Despite the cold day outside, when Selina and Edmund entered the Old Bailey, a stifling wave of heat and close bodies made her stomach roil again. The room was packed, and Edmund had to push their way through the whispering crowd.
Their voices surrounded Selina like a cacophony of buzzing — whispers that the Earl of Granville arrived with the murderer’s daughter.
Edmund bent around her, protecting her from the whispers and stares, the aggressive bystanders who wanted a look. Even with her absolute fear for her father and the terrifying uncertainty of what lay ahead, Edmund’s shielding of her warmed Selina.
His body covered her, one hand on the small of her back, the other pushing people out of their way. They walked through a gauntlet but Edmund’s presence steadied her.
As soon as they arrived in the courtroom, she sought out her father. Arthur stood in the prisoner’s box, irons clasped around his wrists. His clothes were disheveled, but he had cleaned up well enough and stood impassive in the box.
The band tightening her chest eased at the sight of him, but she still clasped Edmund’s arm tightly and stood as close to him as the courtroom allowed. He miraculously found two seats and steered her to them.
Mrs. Ashworth stood in the witness stand and dabbed her eyes with a black mourning handkerchief.
“He often threatened my husband,” she said.
Selina stopped dead and turned to stare at the woman.
“Demean him in so many ways,” Mrs. Ashworth continued, her voice choked. “Nothing my husband did was ever good enough for Mr. Lyndell.”
“That’s not true!” The words left Selina before she realized they were there.
“Young lady, control yourself,” the wigged judge snapped.
Edmund pulled her toward the benches, but her gaze was only on her father. He looked to her and offered a very small smile and faint nod.
“It is true,” Mrs. Ashworth said haughtily.
“Arthur Lyndell was a tyrant at the office. The only respite my husband had was when he took journeys on one of their ships to find goods. Mr. Lyndell worked him like a slave. It was not right.” She shook her head and dabbed again at her eyes.
“It’s not right. I know that man murdered my husband.” Mrs. Ashworth pointed dramatically at Arthur, and Selina wanted to smack her hand away. “
Gritting her teeth, Selina clenched her hands into the skirts of her gown. “None of that is true,” she told Edmund quietly. “My father is a good, kind man. He treated Mr. Ashworth like a brother. How could she say such things?”
Edmund didn’t respond but merely took her hand and held her. He sat straight and stiff beside her, but his touch was reassuring — an anchor in the storm Selina found herself adrift in. She clung to him as if he knew the only way to guide her to a safe port.
“My lord.” The wigged and robed man stood and turned toward the judge. “This should be sufficient evidence to indict the criminal Arthur Lyndell.”
The mass of voices surged with the man’s words, their murmurings pushed against her. Selina took a deep breath of thick air and shuddered. Only Edmund’s hand on hers kept Selina seated.
Beside her, Edmund cursed. “That is not the barrister I sent for to represent your father.”
“They did not give us a chance to arrange for our defense,” she whispered back, her words rough. “What is this?”
His fingers tightened around hers. “This is merely an indictment. We’ll prove his innocence at trial.”
Her father’s barrister raised his voice over the whispers of the crowd. “A woman’s opinion should not be enough for indictment. Particularly that of a wife.”
“My lord,” the prosecutor interrupted. “Mrs. Ashworth’s testimony establishes motive and a longstanding animosity between the two.”
Selina swallowed hard and watched the judge stare impassively at his papers. He took his quill, dipped it in the inkpot, and wrote something before he handed it to the clerk. The clerk stood, and despite her firm belief in her father’s innocence, Selina knew what the note was going to say.
Her fingers tightened around Edmund’s. It hurt to breathe, the air thick and cloying. Edmund remained steady and she took comfort in his presence. Selina shifted closer to him, felt the solidness of his body against hers.
She swallowed hard and held her breath as the clerk took his position before the room.
“Arthur Lyndell is hereby indicted on this day, 24 October in the year of our Lord 1817, for the crime of felony murder perpetrated on his business partner, Mr. Clayton Ashworth.”
All the breath left her even as the courtroom once more swelled with chatter. Selina couldn’t move. She couldn’t stand or protest or find words.
“Remanded to Newgate,” the judge intoned, though his words sounded distant, “until set time of trial, two weeks’ hence.”
How? How had this happened? The words caught in her throat. Helpless, Selina could do no more than watch as her father was taken away.
“I need to see him,” she managed.
She turned completely into Edmund for more of the support she needed from him. His arm wrapped around her shoulders and he bent his head close. Once more protecting her from the surrounding gossip.
“Not today,” Edmund said, so quietly no one else overheard. “We’ll go tomorrow, I promise I’ll take you tomorrow.”
She nodded, or thought she had. But her gaze focused on the now-empty doorway where they removed her father. Selina searched for Mrs. Ashworth, a woman she had no cause to suspect until now. Narrowing her eyes, she found the woman, the liar, being escorted from the courtroom.
Selina wanted to leap across the room and scratch Mrs. Ashworth’s eyes out for lying. Force her to tell the judge the truth. Only Edmund’s steadying presence allowed her to hold onto her last shred of control.
People shoved their way out — she supposed whoever else was on the docket held no interest for the curious, not like the father to the fiancée of the Earl of Granville.
“Granville.”
The voice shattered her daze, and she blinked to see Mr. Hamilton standing before them.
“How could this be?” Hamilton demanded, low and angry.
Selina looked up and saw him watching Edmund then glance to the side. She followed their gaze. A sketch artist sat close by, his sketchbook no doubt filled with all manner of drawings from the trial.
How had she not seen the man before? Beside her, she heard Edmund’s angry growl.
Whatever else Mr. Hamilton was going to say died on his lips. He stalked to the sketch artist and tore out the top page. It was of her leaning on Edmund. Bile rose in her throat at the glimpse she had of the drawing.
The heavy paper crumpled in Hamilton’s fist. Edmund jerked his head and Hamilton grabbed the entire book, ignoring the irate cries of the artist.
“Take her home, Granville,” Hamilton said.
He glared at the artist, now hastily backing away. Beside her Edmund offered a nod in thanks but didn’t move from her side, didn’t release his hold on her. Mr. Hamilton turned to her, his face soft and voice understanding.
“I’ll see to your father today,” he said.
A surge of affectionate gratitude enveloped her, and she nodded. However Edmund teased Hamilton, he was a good friend.
Selina didn’t remember the drive back to her townhouse. She barely remembered Thompson opening the door or Edmund ushering her inside. Shock made her limbs rigid, and every step felt heavy and arduous.
“Where’s Annabelle?” she managed to ask Thompson.
“Miss Barton has gone to the Old Bailey,” Thompson said.
“I didn’t see her,” Selina said quietly.
Annabelle had to have heard by now. The gossip would no doubt be all over the street, even now on its way to the newspaper offices. The thought made her ill.
Edmund guided her into the parlor, and she vaguely heard him order tea.
“I feel like everything’s out of control,” she said and forced her eyes to focus on Edmund. “I don’t know why that woman said such things.”
She grabbed his hands and added, almost desperately, “Edmund, I swear they were all lies!”
He gripped her cold fingers tightly, his warmth just penetrating her skin. She met his gaze, begging, pleading for him to understand. To believe in her father. To believe her.
“I don’t doubt that,” he said softly. “That woman was in service of herself only.”
Selina pulled her hands from his touch, wanting to tell him the truth, wanting him to understand. Edmund waited and listened, one hand on her leg, a comfort she barely registered.
“Many a day I was at the office with them,” she said, the words still rushing out, though he seemed to believe her. His hand hadn’t moved; his gaze never wavered. “I saw how they related; there was no malice between them.”
He nodded, and the simple act of staying nearly broke her.
“We will fight this,” Edmund promised. “We’ll speak to the barrister. We’ll do what we have to do.”
She let his words flow over her, the promise, the love. Selina wanted nothing more than to lead him back upstairs and let him hold her.
She pulled back, away from his touch, his love.
They’d had enough scandal on them. She had enough scandal on her — she did not want to mire him in more. Not if she could help it. The deep breath she took brought his scent, the musk of his skin, and she savored it.
Selina swallowed convulsively and pushed all that aside. A heaviness settled in her stomach, but she had to do this, needed to say it. She had to. Sitting up straighter, she tilted her head back and watched Edmund’s gaze.
“You do not have to do this,” she said, each word harder to speak than the last.
His hand tightened on her thigh for a heartbeat then he gathered her hands in his. His grip was cool and firm, unyielding. “What?”
But she knew he understood what she meant. He always did.
“You don’t have to stay.”
“No.” Edmund’s eyes narrowed. But he didn’t move, didn’t jerk back, didn’t drop her hands. “I will not abandon you. Nothing,” he swore, the word a low vow in the small space between them, “will change that.”
“Edmund, this is different,” she tried to say. The words caught in her throat, and she swallowed hard, licking her suddenly dry lips. “This isn’t simply choosing a wife not of your station. You’d be choosing a wife burdened by scandal.”
His expression didn’t change, and she gathered what little argument she had left to speak again.
“I don’t care about the scandal. I don’t care about any of them except you.” And he said it with such conviction, Selina believed him.
His mouth was hard on hers, sealing the vow he’d made. She shuddered beneath his touch and opened to him. She combed her hands through his hair and drew him to her, her tongue brushing his, body straining closer.
His touch set her afire, yet Selina felt as if he saved her from the fire. Kept her stable, no longer adrift in the madness her days had become. She knew she needed to push him away but didn’t know how to let him go.
“Annabelle!” Selina gasped and pulled back.
“No, Edmund,” he said, and she heard the smile in his voice.
Selina released a breath, the slightest of laughs. She touched his face with the tips of her fingers, looked into his eyes. Finally she shook her head.
Her breath came harsh and her body ached for his touch. Sitting in the parlor, lips tingling from his, Selina felt wanton and exposed. She licked her lips and tasted him there.
A shudder of pure need washed through her.
“Annabelle should be home soon,” she managed.
Edmund didn’t move. With courage Selina was unaware she possessed, she stood. Already mired in scandal, a ruined woman for making love to her fiancé, she took Edmund’s hand and stood.
No servants loitered in the hallways, no one to see her lead Edmund to her rooms. She trusted her staff, knew they wouldn’t gossip. But the servants didn’t matter. Only Edmund did.
She believed he should leave her, break off the engagement and protect himself, his name and Octavia’s. But oh, when he promised to stand by her, his words melted the frozen fear seizing her heart.
He’d stayed. Edmund had stayed; even knowing the scandal that now tainted her and her father, Edmund had still stayed. He chose to stay. Because he believed in her, believed in her father’s innocence. Because he loved her.
They’d prove her father’s innocence, and she and Edmund would marry. And that was all she wanted in this world.
Last night she hadn’t the chance to explore his body, to taste and touch and feel him. Sensation exploded along her nerves and swept her away. Selina wanted to feel that again, wanted to drown in the feel of Edmund moving in her body.
She led him down the hall, the curtains opened to the last afternoon light. The wind had picked up, but Selina ignored it. Nothing matter but the look in his eyes; hungry and dark, it coiled through her and made her want.
She wanted to forget. Wanted to spend a few hours in Edmund’s arms and not think of anything else. Wanted to lose herself in Edmund’s touch and taste before she needed to face the reality that awaited her.
The door closed quietly behind them, and Selina led Edmund to the bed. She ran her hands up his chest and pushed his coat off his shoulders. She took it and flung it over a bench, only to immediately return to him.
With as much care as she’d stripped him of the coat, she unbuttoned his vest, lifted his shirt, and laid them carefully by the coat. He tugged off his shoes, but Selina stopped his fingers on the buttons and ties of his trousers.
“I want to do this,” she whispered, her words almost silent in the rapidly darkening room. “I want to see you.”
His hands dropped to his sides, and with exquisite care she removed his trousers and stockings. He was hard and thick, and Selina ran her fingers over the tip of him. He jerked against her touch, and a surge of feminine power went through her.
Leaning forward, Selina licked his chest. She tasted his skin and let his scent wash over her. Edmund said something, a strangled word that sounded like her name, and Selina looked up.
Even in the dim room his gaze was dark, aroused. Another shudder of need made her knees weak. He pulled her close, his breath harsh, and kissed her. His mouth took hers, possessive and hard and demanding, and Selina loved it.
Fingertips pressed to his back, she slowly, tentatively moved them down his skin to the top of his bum. He growled against her mouth, but that only further emboldened her.
Without warning, Edmund lifted her and set her on the bed. He bunched her skirts to her hips and stood between her legs. Warmth rushed through her, and Selina whimpered. He’d barely touched her and she wanted him so badly that her entire body ached with the force of it.
His hands smoothed up her thighs, found her center. She bucked against his touch even as he spread her wider, his fingers slipping into her wetness.
“Selina,” he groaned against the side of her neck.
“Yes,” she panted, her nails scraping down his chest. “Edmund, yes.”
Edmund knelt before her and kissed up her thigh, his tongue flicking against her as he had last eve. His fingers pumped in and out of her, pleasure building higher and tighter until she was there, right there, hovering on the edge of that magnificent cliff. Then he pulled back and straightened.
She let out a strangled whimper, clutching at his shoulders.
“Stand up, Selina,” he ordered, his voice gravelly.
She did so and just as he had last night, Edmund undressed her. His mouth caressed each exposed bit of flesh, long fingers pinching and rolling her nipples until they were hard, aching points.
When he laid her back on the bed, Selina opened herself to him. She still wanted to touch him, explore him as he had her. But then he entered her with slow, short thrusts as she once more accustomed herself to the feel of him. His hands gripped the backs of her thighs, opening her wider to him, and she gasped.
She wanted to stay in this moment, suspended in time. Hovering on the brink of orgasm, Edmund surrounding her, moving so slowly within her. Selina wanted their joining to last forever, to stay here and not face what lay outside their door.
Body shuddering, straining for completion, she arched into him, and he slid fully home. Selina sighed and wrapped her legs around his waist, bringing him that much deeper. At her movement, one hand flexed on her thighs, the other fisting in the coverlet.
She looked up at him, felt him moving inside her, and felt whole.
“Will it always be like this?” she asked, the words slipping out before she could stop them.
“Like what?” he asked, pulling out and thrusting back in, slow and building, and it was wonderful.
“Like this,” she tried again, her voice hitching with every movement. Frustrated she didn’t have the words to describe everything within her, the entire scope of pleasure and love, Selina added, “Perfect.”
Edmund leaned down and kissed her. “Yes. Always.”
Selina smiled up at him and tilted her hips. When he thrust back into her, it sent a wave of shuddering need dancing along her nerves.
“Yes, more,” she gasped.
He moved faster, pounding into her, and she loved it. It sparked along her skin and built higher and higher. She wanted more. Selina strained for that edge, her nails digging into his lower back, drawing him deeper, legs wrapped around his hips.
Suddenly she shattered, bursts of light flashing behind her eyelids and setting her blood afire. She cried out his name, or maybe she merely thought she had.
Edmund continued to move, harder now, and even faster. Improbably Selina felt that delicious pleasure build within her once more. It built and crested, shattered over her. Just as she cried out again, fingers digging into his skin, sobbing his name, he stiffened above her.
His face buried in the crook of her neck, his fingers flexing on the back of her thigh. She held him tight, pulled him even closer, and held him for long minutes as his orgasm overtook him.
She struggled to catch her breath, unwilling to let him go. His weight was a comfort against her, a connection she was unwilling to part with. Her body still hummed from her climax, and her legs felt like jelly. They fell from round his hips, useless, at her sides.
But she still held him; Selina needed him close, wrapped around her, where she felt safe and loved.
When Edmund finally moved, he rolled onto his back and pulled her half atop him. His hand stroked down her spine, slow and steady, and she purred in contentment.
Body exhausted, Selina wanted to close her eyes and sleep, but her mind whirled with all that had happened the last two days. Guilt mixed with nerves in her stomach, but even so, she hadn’t the willpower to move away from him.
She hadn’t since that first day they’d met.
He deserved so much better than what she had to offer. So much more than a woman from the merchant class swamped in horrific scandal — scandal that now clung to her lover, no matter how she wished otherwise.
Selina loved Edmund, the way he made her laugh, how he spoke to her of everything from parliament to her father’s business to his own partnership with Hamilton. He included her and he listened.
She loved him for standing beside her these last days. Had she the strength to push him away?
Her arms tightened around him and she pressed a kiss to his chest, just below where his heart beat beneath her ear. Selina breathed deeply of him, of the scent of them. Tears pricked her eyes, but she refused to let them fall.
She loved him so much it hurt. Could she love him enough to keep him safe?