“Do you need anything else, Auntie?” Selina slid her hand into Ursula’s again, studying her face for any sign of further pain. “A book, perhaps, or an infusion?”
“I need peace and quiet,” said Ursula firmly. “And a great deal less fuss.”
Lady Aldershot looked shocked, but Selina was gladder than she could say to hear some of the usual vigour in Aunt Ursula’s voice. Her lip trembled, and she slapped a hand to it, determined not to let Ursula see her concern.
“Why don’t you send up my needlework, Selina,” said Lady Aldershot kindly. “I will sit with your aunt until the doctor comes. You will do me a great kindness if you entertain the duke in my absence. Do thank him for his help.”
Ursula looked extremely satisfied with that suggestion. “Yes, Selina. Make sure the dear boy knows how grateful you are.”
“Caversham is not…” Selina choked on the words and gave up. “I will, Auntie. Try to be patient. Don’t bully poor Lady Aldershot into letting you out of bed.”
She kissed Ursula’s forehead and removed herself from the bedroom before she was overcome by the sob that had been building in her chest since the moment Ursula fell.
The door had hardly closed behind her before she let out the first part of it, a long, ragged exhalation. And before she could either master herself or give in to tears, she was in Malcolm’s arms.
He held her against him the way he’d held her in the Whitbys’ secret passageway, one hand at the small of her back and the other pressing her face to his shoulder, fingers curling soothingly against the nape of her neck. This time there was nothing in it of either lust or deception. He was warm, strong, safe. She felt the way she had as a child when she ducked her head under the bedcovers to protect herself from the ghosts her brother swore haunted her bedroom.
She held herself stiff for a moment, but there was no helping it. His warmth melted her. She let her head rest on his shoulder and let out two more long, gasping breaths.
Silence. He held her, and the world moved onward around them. Selina slowly became aware of the ticking of the clock on the wall, the increasingly irate murmurs coming from Aunt Ursula’s bedroom. She lifted her head.
Malcolm moved to cup her face with his hand, but she backed away before he could do it.
“I am sorry,” she said, smoothing out her dress. “That was ridiculous of me. Ursula is not badly hurt, after all.”
“It was a shock,” said Malcolm. “It is natural to be distressed. Though I am sure the doctor will be able to tell us that Lady Ursula is not in any danger.”
A hysterical bubble rose in Selina’s throat. “No, it is not natural. I don’t succumb to fits of silly tears under pressure. I fix things. I solve problems. I take charge.”
He scratched the back of his neck, his bafflement evident. “Did I usurp your position?”
“You unsettled me.” Irrational rage had Selina by the throat, burning and tight, and she could not shake it free. “I would have known exactly what to do if only you had not feigned a carriage accident and thrust yourself in where you were not invited.”
He folded his arms, a sign of contemplation rather than anger, and regarded her coolly. “You would have known exactly what to do. Solved the problem. Taken charge.”
“Yes.”
“Because you are so accustomed to being the only person you can rely upon that you are unable to ask anyone else for help.”
Her mouth opened. Closed again.
“I must fetch Lady Aldershot’s needlework,” she said, and turned on her heel. She heard Malcolm groan behind her.
“Selina –”
“I have asked you before not to address me in that familiar way,” she said, without looking back. “My name is Lady Selina Balfour.”
She picked up her skirts and marched away down the stairs before she had a chance to hear his response.
Taking Percival for a walk was a fool’s errand. The little dog’s injury had opened his eyes to a world of indolence, and Percy was not much inclined to leave it. Malcolm did not make it more than three steps at a time through Lady Aldershot’s gardens before the familiar tugging at his trouser leg announced Percy’s desire to be picked up.
But Malcolm had embarked upon several fool’s errands lately, and one more made little difference. He persevered until the sun dipped low beneath the woods at the edge of the Aldershot estate, and only gathered Percy into his arms when they reached the steps up to the terrace at the back of the house. Percy forgot his distress in an instant and became a wriggling bundle of joy, licking adoringly at Malcolm’s face.
“Enough,” said Malcolm. “You must take me for a soft-hearted fool. I will not have my chin licked by an idle wretch.”
Percy’s command of English was not strong enough to understand that he was being chastised. He settled into Malcolm’s arms with a yip of contentment, his four legs dangling aimlessly.
Malcolm paused at the bottom of the steps, the weight of the dog comfortable in his arms, the sun sending streaks of vibrant colour across the sky.
“Forget I said anything,” he murmured to the dog, scratching his ears apologetically. “At least there is someone here who appreciates me.”
Percy’s ears pricked. He let out a soft bark of greeting. Malcolm guessed who had caught the dog’s attention before he saw her.
Selina was sitting on the wide terrace steps, watching the sun set, her elbow resting on her knee and her hand propping her chin. Malcolm set Percy down, unsurprised that the duplicitous creature suddenly regained his enthusiasm for walking. Percy hop-skipped up to Selina and rested his head on her knee.
It was one thing to be jealous of a dead man. It was quite another to be jealous of a dog. Malcolm coughed, alerting
