One week to the day, and Selina was as excited now as she’d been when Edmund had first asked her to marry him.
Excited?
Smiling, she tapped the quill against her writing desk and looked out her window at the sunny morning.
No, excited sounded too tame a word for the giddy, swooping feeling that tied her stomach in dizzying knots. The happiness bubbling inside her eclipsed all else. Annabelle continued to tease her about her constant smiling and laughing, but Selina didn’t care. She enjoyed seeing her cousin step from her shell.
And she was happy — joyous, even.
And in love. So very in love with Edmund, she wondered how her heart contained all she felt for him. The laughter they shared, the childhood stories, even the little everyday things they talked about as they walked the parks or sat in the parlor long after supper.
Nothing else mattered.
Only a faint echo of those nervous, underserving feelings remained. After all, an earl courting a shopgirl? Even a former shopgirl. Marrying her? It sounded wild, mad. A fairy tale. Selina still wondered if this was all a dream.
Yet she couldn’t deny the warm look of love in Edmund’s eyes as they sat and talked. Or the hunger in his gaze as he watched her. He wanted her, and Selina never doubted his love.
Autumn held London firmly in its windy, rainy grip, but this morning was cloudless, and she enjoyed the sunlight. It streamed through the window, and she tilted her face up to its faint warmth.
Selina looked at the half-finished letter in front of her. She had meant to be writing the Duchess of Strathmore — or Isabella, as she insisted she be called, though Selina had yet to be formally introduced to Her Grace. In confinement as they expected their first child, Isabella wrote Selina shortly after Edmund began courting her.
She’d been quite understanding and sympathetic as to the differences in Selina’s current social position versus her future one, and had promised her full support. Not only was it a thoughtful gesture, but it eased some of Selina’s fears over her merchant class, newly wealthy origins.
She took a deep breath and gazed at her reflection in the window panes. Selina looked forward to finally meeting Isabella when she and Edmund visited his country estate after their marriage.
She absently reached for her teacup and sipped the cooling brew.
After their marriage — a flush heated her cheeks at the thought. She could not wait to wake with him beside her in their marriage bed.
Selina pressed cool fingers to her flushed skin. She didn’t care how scandalous her thoughts — she wanted Edmund. He made her happy, made her laugh, and she wanted to spend her life with him.
Her fingers reached up to brush over her hair combs, a gift from Edmund when she accepted his proposal. They’d laughed over his choice, but his thoughtfulness, his remembrance of their first meeting, touched her. They’d shared a light kiss that quickly turned far more passionate. As all their kisses did.
Oh, she wanted him. Wanted to know him in that final, erotic sense, with a deep-seated want she had no words to adequately describe.
“Selina?”
Her father’s voice jerked her from her thoughts. She upset the teacup, mostly empty now, and banged her elbow on the writing desk. Rubbing her elbow ruefully, she turned to her father and hoped her flushed cheeks could be attributed to her being startled.
“Father.” She smiled and willed her cheeks to cool. “Did all go well with Mr. Blake from the emporium?”
Arthur entered the room with a smile and kissed her cheek. “Yes, yes, my dear.”
He looked at the letter that was barely saved from her tea, and shook his head. “But you should concern yourself with the likes of the duchess rather than with Mr. Blake of the emporium,” he admonished with a smile.
Selina resisted rolling her eyes. “I’ll always concern myself with your affairs.”
Arthur sat with a light sigh. “I know I did you a great disservice, Selina.”
She tilted her head curiously. She had no memory of her father ever doing her any disservice in her entire life. When she was young and her mother fell ill, he’d often apologized for being away from home, but he had his fledging business to run. Without Lyndell Imports, they’d have no income and they’d not have been able to afford what little medicine she’d been able to give her mother.
“After your mother passed and I took you with me to the offices,” he clarified and lifted her hand from her lap.
“No, no,” she insisted. “Being there was a fine education, better than most girls receive. I learned things most people never do.”
“Precisely.” He shook his head. “We already had the money; I should’ve made sure you attended the correct schools and forged connections with the right sort from a younger age to prepare you for this. Marriage to an earl. I’m so very proud of you, Selina.”
“I would never change a day,” she told him fiercely.
It was true. She loved every minute spent in those offices, first by her father’s side as she learned numbers and contacts then later when she took charge of the offices.
“When you’re married, I’ll miss you in this house,” he said. Arthur sighed again and looked around her sitting room. “What shall I do with these empty rooms? It’ll be so quiet then, especially since you’re taking Annabelle with you.”
Selina laughed, that giddy bubble once more threatening to explode with her joy. “You won’t have time to miss me with all the visits I plan to pay you. And I’m certain you’ll enjoy visiting us at Pembroke Manor. I can just imagine the mischief we’ll find up there!”
Her father laughed, as Selina meant him to. Some of the tension eased from his face, the lines bracketing his mouth softened, and his eyes, much darker than hers, brightened with genuine mirth.
“What are we laughing over?” Annabelle asked as she entered the sitting room. “What’s so amusing?”
With a smile, Selina gestured her closest friend to join them. “Can you imagine Father hunting?” She laughed as she tried to envision her work-oriented father engaged in so leisurely a sport.
“No,” Annabelle agreed, chuckling. She shook her head and grinned wider. “No, absolutely not.”
“I’ll leave you women then,” Arthur said and stood. He waved a helpless hand, suddenly the very epitome of maleness.
“Leave you to your wedding lists and other” — he waved his hand again — ”things. If you need me, I’ll be in my study going over the settlement papers for Mrs. Ashworth.”
He shook his head and sighed again. The tension returned, and whatever lightness Selina had managed to instill vanished.
“Such a tragedy.” He sighed and left. “Such a tragedy.”
“Your father’s right,” Annabelle said as she turned from the now-closed door. “We have many lists to go over. But before we attend to those, I want to tell you… ” She trailed off and shifted her chair closer, as if anyone eavesdropped on their conversation in Selina’s private sitting room.
“I met Miss Norwood,” Annabelle confided in a whisper.
Selina jerked back in surprise. “What?”
“I wouldn’t have known who she was, had the milliner’s shopgirl not called her name,” Annabelle continued in the same whisper.
Annabelle had very few connections outside her and Arthur, and because of that, society paid her little attention. So Annabelle listened and, as such, heard everything.
“I just so happened to overhear her conversation.”
“Annabelle!” Selina scolded.
Shocked, yes, but oh, she wanted to hear what Miss Norwood had said. Licking her lips, Selina was torn between begging Annabelle to continue and taking the higher road.
Annabelle saved her the choice. “I don’t know who the other woman was Miss Norwood spoke to, but I did hear them mention your engagement.”
She let out a long sigh and gave in. “Did you overhear her wish a witch would put a curse on me? Or invoke a carriage to trample over me?”
“No, no.” Annabelle laughed, and some of the tension knotting her stomach eased. “I heard her say she resigned herself to it. I don’t believe she’ll present any hardship for you.”
Selina blinked. “Oh.” She swallowed and stared at her friend. “I had not expected that.”
“She’s to leave London in a fortnight. There was another prospect for her.” Annabelle shrugged. “I’m unsure what those details are. Is this not a good thing? That she won’t interfere between you and Edmund?”
Annabelle took her hand and squeezed. Selina nodded, though Edmund assured her he had no commitment to nor affection for Miss Norwood outside a slight family obligation.
“There’s naught to concern yourself with,” Annabelle added.
“How long did you listen in on their conversation?” Selina wondered.
Annabelle cleared her throat. “Some little time,” she hedged.
Choking out a laugh, Selina shook her head. She didn’t know what to say to Annabelle about that, but on the other hand, she was grateful to her cousin’s eavesdropping methods.
“Excuse me, ma’am,” Sara, her lady’s maid, said from the doorway. “Lord Granville is here to see you.”
Selina was very proud of the fact she had not leapt up and raced from the room. She may have been on her feet far faster than was right or proper, but she realized her mistake soon enough and walked sedately from the sitting room.
Apparently she had not fooled Annabelle, whose laughter followed her down the hallway.
“Perhaps Lady Octavia and I should plan another sitting!” Annabelle’s voice followed behind her.
Selina stopped and turned. She sniffed and shook her head, but couldn’t stop the bubble of laughter at her cousin’s words.
Edmund awaited her in the front parlor. Forget proper. Selina raced the few steps from the foyer to the parlor and into his arms.
“Selina.” His face buried in her neck and his lips grazed the sensitive skin there. She shivered at the contact.
That warmth, foreign and so very welcomed at the same time, spread through her, and Selina didn’t care that the curtains opened to the street and the parlor doors stood wide to any servant who cared to look in.
“We need to stop these long absences,” she agreed softly, voice heavy with intent. But she pulled back, one hand tracing down his cheek.
His dark eyes stared down at her, and she found herself lost. Feeling ridiculously girlish, she shook her head but couldn’t banish the happy smile as she looked up at him.
“Perhaps we should follow Strathmore’s lead and elope to Gretna Green,” he said, not releasing her.
Selina leaned closer, unconcerned for watching eyes. “And ruffle everyone’s feathers?”
“I don’t care about everyone,” Edmund said firmly. “I only care about you.”
Oh.
The word never made it past her lips. Breathless from his declaration, when he kissed her, Selina forgot completely what they were talking about.
His tongue swept against hers, his mouth a warm caress. His hands settled on her hips and pulled her closer. Selina shivered at the contact and arched into his touch. Deepened the kiss. She wanted more, wanted to feel all of him, wanted to know more of these heady new sensations.
“Edmund,” she gasped, her hands combing through his hair.
“I can’t stay,” he said and his voice was harsh, low, and curled through her like a seductive promise. “I’m meeting Hamilton at the club — we’re discussing the purchase of the bazaar.”
“All right,” she said. Then stronger, Selina nodded and forced herself to step back, away from him. “When will I see you again?”
Selina couldn’t help herself; the words slipped out.
“Oh, I don’t know.” He smiled. “In a few weeks, maybe.” His grin broadened. “Or perhaps a few hours.”
“All right.” Selina nodded again. “Good. Don’t let Hamilton turn your head.”
Edmund’s laughter rumbled deep and rich, and his sheer pleasure captivated her.
“No.” He pressed his lips to hers again, too quickly, there and gone. “Never.”
Selina watched him leave, her stomach swooping with that giddy feeling again. With reluctant steps, she climbed the stairs. Annabelle had no doubt started their lists already.
But her lips still tingled from where Edmund kissed her, and she wanted him, wanted him more than she realized it possible to want a man.
Could they always go on like this? Happy and lightheaded, and so in love that it burst inside her? Or was this only the first blush of love and it’d fade in time? Selina walked up the stairs, her feet suddenly heavier than they had been moments ago.
A knock sounded at the door, and she paused. Edmund returning? The male voice was not Edmund’s, and she continued upward; she had wedding preparations to see to. And even if she could somehow divine the future, Selina would not wish to.
Whatever their future brought, Selina thought as she walked down the hall toward her sitting room, she only wanted it to be with Edmund.
“What’s this about?”
Her father’s strident voice echoed sharply through the townhouse. Normally Arthur was jovial, but now his voice was harsh and angry, reverberating throughout the house. She stood at the top of the stairs before she realized her intent.
“You cannot come into my house like this!” he continued, angry and forceful.
Selina raced down the steps, suddenly terrified.
“We have an order from the magistrate to take you to Newgate,” the man said. His ill-fitting coat hung off him, and he shrugged it more securely onto his shoulders.
Her heart beat erratically in her chest, and anger overrode the fear that threatened to choke her. “My father has done nothing wrong!”
She stood between the Runners and her father. Behind the Bow Street Runners she saw the staff gather and heard Annabelle on the steps, but she did not look away. “What is he accused of?”
The Runner looked at her, his pale eyes awash with indifference. He shrugged in his coat again, scratching absently at his neck.
“Murder.”