“Of course, Alex.”
Malcolm was certain now that Daisy had guessed a great deal more than her husband about the nature of the business at hand. She gave Malcolm a nod of encouragement. It didn’t have much effect on the tension winding tighter in his chest.
He passed Selina on his way out of the room. His hand trailed at his side with what he hoped was enough subtlety to escape notice. It caught on hers, briefly, and imparted a squeeze which was swiftly returned.
She lifted her eyes to his. There was no anxiety in them at all. Only excitement, and an adoration that took his breath away.
All very well for her. She had only to wait. He had to convince her brother to relinquish all care of her to a reprobate of a man who had done very little, as yet, to prove his worth. Loxwell wouldn’t be impressed by a title, of course. There’d have to be more.
Malcolm stared into Selina’s eyes for a second that felt like an eternity. Then he followed her brother out of the room.
Selina turned to her siblings, knowing full well that her smile was ungraciously smug.
“The poor man looks as though he’s walking to the gallows,” said Daisy, settling back down among her cushions. “I do think you might have given Alex a hint.”
“I did, in fact. I told him to expect something.” Selina glanced at the door, picturing the scene that would shortly unfold inside her brother’s study. “But I doubt he’s expecting Malcolm.”
“It’s much more fun this way,” said Isobel, her fingers still running lightly through the notes of the waltz. “Though you didn’t have to tease him so, George. You very nearly gave the game away with all your mugging.”
“Was my brother really so frightening when you asked for my hand?” asked Anthea, rising on to tiptoe to straighten out George’s lapel.
“Not at all. He was delighted. Shook my hand and poured out a brandy and made me promise to treat you like a queen for the rest of my days.” George brushed an imaginary speck of dust from his cuffs. “But I saw no need to tell Caversham that.”
Daisy extended her hand to Selina, who left her easel and the now-dozing Percy and sat down beside her. The baby was slumbering against Daisy’s chest, occasionally making peaceful little murmurs.
“My darling Selina,” she said, clasping Selina’s hand tightly. “I do believe I am nearly as happy as you are. It is wonderful to think of you settled so well. I have no idea how you can be calm!”
Selina pressed a hand to her chest. She thought of all the years she had spent hiding her emotions. The pain she had felt that nobody suspected. The loneliness she refused to admit, even to herself.
The man who had seen it all, right from the start.
She let a little more of her joy free to dance across her face. “I am happier now than I have ever been.”
Aunt Ursula looked up from her knitting. “So, Caversham has taken Alex off for a private word, has he? To whom is the dear boy proposing?”
“To me, Auntie,” said Selina, pride swelling in her heart. “To me.”
Loxwell had not spoken for exactly twenty-five seconds. Malcolm had counted them all.
It was easy to do. The dry tick-tock of the clock on the wall was the only sound in the room, and if Malcolm did not concentrate his energies on it, he’d go mad.
Twenty-six. Twenty-seven. Loxwell folded his arms.
Twenty-eight seconds ago, Malcolm had announced, with a composure that belied his pounding heart, that he had made Selina an offer. She had accepted.
Twenty-nine. No response from Loxwell but a furrowed brow.
It was not as if they strictly needed his blessing. Selina was well past the age of requesting a guardian’s permission. And if she had been too young, Malcolm would happily have fought her brother, thrown Selina over his shoulder and carried her off to Gretna Green.
But that would be missing the point. Selina loved her family. If Loxwell did object –
Thirty. The younger duke stirred as though the thirtieth tick had rung an alarm bell somewhere deep in his thoughts. He folded his arms a little tighter and looked at Malcolm with an expression caught between puzzlement and suspicion.
“I was not expecting that.”
“Well.” Malcolm’s hands were thrust stiffly behind his back. He shifted his stance. “Selina did not want to distract you this past week.”
“You asked her a week ago?” One eyebrow dared to break Loxwell’s mask of severity and inch upwards. “She’s had time to change her mind, then.”
“Thank you,” said Malcolm coldly. “She tells me her mind is quite made up.”
Loxwell gave him a long, sober look. “You are a fortunate man.”
“I know.” Malcolm cleared his throat, willing his tight muscles to relax. “Believe me.”
Loxwell glanced down, his frown deepening. “Of course, there is no possible objection on material grounds. You already know that you and Selina are the ideal match… in terms of rank and fortune. Besides, Selina has known for years that her fate is her own to decide. I would part with her to a beggar if it were a love match.” His eyes returned, piercingly, to Malcolm’s. “Is it a love match, Caversham?”
Understanding dawned.
What words Malcolm could form would be stiff and unfit for the purpose, he knew. He was unaccustomed to speaking of his heart. It felt dashed strange to talk about such things with Loxwell.
But the Balfour family held a different set of values to the ones Malcolm had always known. Affection was encouraged, nourished, cherished.
The home he would make with Selina would be just such a one, if he could manage it. Golden with laughter. Sweet with caresses.
He hadn’t thought such a thing was possible. Not for him. But she had a way of making him believe he could be something more.
“I wouldn’t dream of
