“Clever dog,” she said fondly. “He knows what you’re about. You’ve no intention of returning me in good time at all. Percival can sense deception.”
“The ungrateful wretch,” Malcolm sighed. “After all I’ve done for him, to be betrayed in this way! It’s too much to bear.”
She lifted her head from Percy, a mischievous light in her eyes. “Don’t be too hard on him. He kept our secret of yesterday evening, after all. He could have wreaked terrible damage, if he chose.”
The horses were barely moving. Malcolm dropped the reins. Selina straightened, caught, perhaps, by the sudden tension in his jaw.
“Is something the matter?”
“I meant what I said about behaving differently. I think I have given you the impression that I’ve been toying with you. That is not the case.” He let his eyes linger on those parts of her that he too often had to tear his attention from in public. The dark shimmer of her hair, what was visible of it beneath her bonnet. The elegant lines of her collarbone, just seen beneath her fichu. So much of her was hidden from him still.
Then he raised his gaze to hers. “I kissed you because I want to take you seriously. It wasn’t a game. It wasn’t a trick. When I return to London, I will call on your brother and ask his permission to court you.”
“Alex won’t give it without speaking to me first.”
“Then I’ll wait.”
“And if I don’t give my permission?”
He risked a slow, teasing grin. “If you don’t agree to let me court you properly, Lady Selina, I will never kiss you again. There. The choice is yours.”
She held his eyes gravely, and then, slowly, deliberately, pulled her lower lip into her mouth to moisten it. Malcolm’s breath stilled in his chest.
“Interesting that you imagine Lady Icicle would be susceptible to a threat like that,” she said, settling back against the seat with a glow of triumph in her cheeks.
“Ah.” Malcolm coughed, taking off his hat and running a distracted hand through his hair. “I, ah, I didn’t think you knew…”
“Oh, I’ve known about your charming pet name for me for some time.”
“I never meant any offence by it.”
She cut her eyes to him, brief and devastating. “Yes, you did.”
Blast. “Yes. You’re right.” He glanced up at the sky, where a few lonely clouds were drifting in the wind. “You’ve wounded my pride, Selina. Time and again. But it was only what I deserved.”
“You’re not the only man I refuse to dance with. It was never personal.”
Malcolm was willing to bet that he felt those refusals more deeply than any of the others. “I am sorry that I ever called you that name. It was unkind. No, worse. It was hypocritical.” He gave a half-shrug, as though he were not saying anything of note. “I’m cold enough myself, beneath all the flirting and the glamour of the title.”
“You were not cold yesterday, when Aunt Ursula fell.” To his surprise, he felt the gentle pressure of her hand on his shoulder. “And you are not cold now.”
Far from it. Malcolm was burning. The gentleness in Selina’s voice was like paraffin poured on the banked coals of his heart. He longed to turn back to her, to let his eyes drown in hers, and yet he could not bring himself to do it.
He knew what he would see when he looked at her. A Lion Duchess, only lacking her duke. What would it take for her to accept him in place of her lonely freedom? He might have every seat in Parliament in his pocket, and yet Selina would remain unmoved.
“Let me be your second strike of lightning,” he said, his lips moving heavily around the words. He forgot what he had said about refusing to kiss her. He forgot why it was dangerous to meet her eyes. “Let me win you. Let me give you everything you deserve.”
Her lashes fluttered low, as though she, too, saw too much to bear in his gaze. Malcolm took his opportunity while it lasted.
He leaned forwards and pressed his lips to hers.
They returned to Lady Aldershot’s house as late as Selina had expected. She took the prudent step of going up to her bedroom before she sought out her sisters. One glance in the mirror confirmed her suspicions that she had some work to do to restore her appearance to its usual standard.
It would not do to enter Lady Aldershot’s drawing room looking like a woman who had been thoroughly, expertly and passionately kissed.
When her hair was back in order, her cheeks less flushed, and the secret smile banished from her lips, Selina went to Aunt Ursula’s chambers only to find them empty of both invalid and sisters. A brief search located them all in the drawing room, where Aunt Ursula was propped up on the sofa by many cushions, and Isobel was playing a lively jig on the piano. Anthea had taken Lady Aldershot’s hands and was enticing her through the steps of a dance. George was leaning on the mantelpiece and talking to Malcolm, though his eyes kept darting across the room to rest lovingly on his lively wife. Malcolm, for his part, turned as Selina entered and let his eyes flash their pleasure as they took her in.
“My goodness, Lady Isobel!” Lady Aldershot protested, through her laughter. “You are playing much too fast for me!” She gasped for breath and clung to Anthea for balance. “Oh, Lady Selina, do come and rescue me! I was foolish enough to ask your sisters to show me the latest dances from the London ballrooms. I cannot keep up at all!”
Selina shook her head in mock disapproval. “Anthea, Isobel, really! I was gone less than an hour, and in that time, you have dragged our aunt from her bed and run poor Lady Aldershot off her feet!”
Anthea looked boldly from Selina to Malcolm. “I think you were gone longer than that, Selina, since
