And how he looked. It was a wonder that the air between them did not burst into flame.
“Forgive me for appearing before you in this state, ladies,” he said, shrugging away Mr Forrester and making an attempt at his usual easy stance. “Some fool drove my carriage into a ditch a few weeks ago, and as it turned out, it was not fit for the road any longer.” He bowed to Mrs Forrester and Anthea, and then his eyes darted back to Selina. The heat fading now, uncertainty in its wake. “At least, not at the speeds I drove it.”
It sounded like a boast, but it fell flat. The echo of his customary pride had no substance behind it. Malcolm’s voice was as hollow as his eyes.
“Your Grace, please take my coat,” said Mr Forrester, shrugging it off. “You must be frozen stiff.”
That brought Selina back to herself again. Here was a crisis, after all. A man shivering himself to death after running through a winter downpour. And what did she do, if not solve the crises facing the people she loved?
She turned to her maid. She should have done it sooner. The sight of Malcolm had rendered her stupid. “Run back to the inn,” she said, her voice crisp and calm. “Tell the innkeeper to have a room prepared at once for the Duke of Caversham. If he has none immediately available, he must use one of those set aside for our party. A hot bath must be drawn up straight away, and a set of clean clothes laid out. The duke has arrived with no attendants, so will require a man from the inn’s own staff.”
Malcolm had returned his weight to Mr Forrester’s arm, but he was watching Selina still. The smile on his face was very like the one he had worn so many nights ago, at the ambassador’s ball.
It was pride. And at last, she saw it was a different kind of pride than she had always thought. He was proud of her, and judging by the gentle shake of his head as she met his eyes again, he knew he had no right to be. Selina’s lips parted, knowing the shape of what she had to say, but with no idea of the words to express it.
“I’ve brought my valet,” said Lord Louis, shattering the moment with his usual bull-headed enthusiasm. “He’ll look after you nicely, Caversham.” He clapped Malcolm on the back, withdrawing his hand quickly as cold water soaked through his delicate glove. “I must say, I cannot tell you how much I – how surprised – how pleased –” Louis pulled out an embroidered handkerchief and dabbed at his eyes, overcome with emotion. “I should have had faith in you!” he cried. “I should have known you’d do the right thing in the end! You’re a fine man, Caversham. A fine, fine man.”
Malcolm’s jaw clenched tight. Selina started forwards, afraid he was in pain, but the suppressed laughter that shook his shoulders revealed quite the opposite was the case.
“I, ah, am glad I have proved myself worthy of your friendship, old boy,” he said, coughing once or twice to disguise his mirth.
“Oh, Caversham, Caversham!” Louis blew his nose noisily. Malcolm caught Selina’s eye, and she could bear it no more.
“In fact, I will come with you,” she said to her maid, who was poised to leave. “I must see that everything is done properly. Come along, quickly now!”
Anthea said something as she hurried back out into the rain, but she did not dare stop to hear it. Nor did she dare look back at Malcolm.
The world which had been so grey as she made her way across the square only a few minutes earlier had entirely transformed. The still-falling rain sparkled from the cobblestones with unbearable brightness. Its steady patter filled her mind with music. She was sure that if she looked up at the sky, it would be bright with rainbows from horizon to horizon.
But she did not dare look up. Not now. Not yet.
A celebratory meal was called for – by Lord Louis, chiefly, but with the firm agreement of everybody else. Mr Forrester’s supporters had mysteriously swelled in number after the afternoon’s revelation, and the inn’s kitchens were busily preparing a feast to feed them all. In the meantime, there was brandy, claret, sherry in every glass, and a cheerful buzz of laughter rising to the rafters of the private dining room.
Selina sat in a corner, understanding at last how Isobel must feel at every ball. The gathering was by every measure a success, and yet the joy in the room oppressed her. She felt stifled each time a friend asked after her health. Her mind was somewhere in the rooms above her head, in a room which she hoped was warm and full of hot bathtub steam. She’d had a tray prepared to send up to Malcolm. He was not expected to join the party.
“Ten miles, he ran!” Lord Louis’s deep voice boomed above the rest. “Ten miles, in calfskin boots and driving rain! But that is Caversham’s true nature, gentlemen. Once he has his mind set on something, nothing will stand in his way.” He raised his glass, tipped it back and drained it. “What a day!”
Selina closed her eyes and ran her fingers lightly over the silver pins in her hair. Every one in place. All as it should be.
Apparently, the wanton desire to run upstairs and interrupt a duke in his bathtub was not outwardly visible.
“Are you unwell?” Anthea’s soft voice woke her from what
