While being the center of attraction seemed to be the wish of most of the young women of the ton, Richard was intrigued to see that Selina did not seem to be enjoying it. The attention seemed only to increase her nervousness, as she had taken to tugging on her skirt and playing with the hem while actively avoiding the gazes of interested gentlemen.

While her candor was attractive to him, he could not overlook the fact that she lacked the proper etiquette needed to navigate polite society. While her beautiful new dresses and naturalbeauty might have attracted the interest of many a gentleman, there was a chance that her lack of proper decorum might be the final hammer that shattered their interest in her.

It didn’t make logical sense that he found her attractive but her candor felt like a breath of fresh air in a society that was always pretentious.

A part of him was still hesitant about the idea of refining her when he so keenly admired the untouched honesty that bled into her deportment. It was part of what made her Selina—the unique woman who had so easily taken over his thoughts.

He watched her scratch a part of her dress and pull at it, almost like the material was irritating her skin. If it was, he would not have blamed her. The sequins that made up part of the sleeve were known to be scratchy sometimes—not that this would excuse such unrefined behavior from a lady.

He was sure she must have had some training on etiquette before she entered Society, but with everything that had happened around that period—her parent’s death, in combination with her natural character that made her a less desirable partner to the less-than-intelligent men of the ton—she had become something of a wallflower, relegated to the edges of the ballroom, content to watch other people dance.

Her etiquette lessons collected dust where she had shelved them among the less important things in her life.

To the untrained eye, she might have seemed content, but she was not. Occasionally, he noted the gleam in her eyes when she stared at a particular lovestruck couple and how long she stared at married couples who were notorious for their inability to keep their hands to themselves.

With time, it had become clear to him that the serious-looking Selina, with her refreshing political views, was, in fact, a romantic at heart.

That was the reason he had vowed to help her achieve her goal, even if it was the last thing he did. He fought the unholy urge to ravish her, captivated by the movement of her lips as she popped pieces of cake into her mouth. For the first time, he found himself envying a sweet dessert its place within the confines of her mouth.

For the rest of the picnic, he learned a lesson in torment, trying to keep his hands to himself while also keeping his mind from slipping into the gutter, as it was wont to whenever he was in her presence.

The picnic ended, and the guests started to step away, dispersing in different directions. He once again offered her his arm—any excuse to have her close to him again.

They walked to the house in silence, her expressive eyes admiring the scenery and the expansive grounds. He, on the other hand, was content to watch her, drinking in her features and every change in her expression as she admired the nature around her.

Just when they were a few feet away from the front doors, he leaned towards her, closing his eyes as he inhaled her unique scent.

“Come and see me later tonight at the library,” he said in a whisper. “It appears we have some crucial matters to discuss.”

He quite enjoyed the tiny shiver that ran through her as he spoke.

He still wore his smug smirk when she turned to look at him, her face a picture of surprise and curiosity. She had opened her mouth to ask him about his invitation, but she must have thought better of it, what with the number of people that moved around them and the possibility of any one of them overhearing her.

The wrong words in the wrong ears might guarantee that they would become the next topic for the gossips to use for entertainment at dinner.

Selina turned her head away, keeping her mouth shut. She might be impulsive at times, but she was also meticulous.

When the guests had retired to their bedrooms after dinner, Selina rose from her bed, where she had lain for the past few hours waiting for them to leave. She felt as though she had beenforced to listen to their raucous laughter for what seemed like an eternity.

Standing up, she belted her robe over her nightdress, then pulled her coat over it, using its hood to further conceal her identity.

Opening her door as quietly as possible, she crept out. After making sure that there was nobody in the hallway, she crept forward, closing her door behind her as quietly as possible.

Descending the flight of stairs, she was a little taken aback to see that the hallways were so quiet—a contrast to how busy and noisy they were during the day.

Turning quickly on her heels, she headed down the hallway on her right, walking until she reached the fourth door. She could see slivers of light spilling out from beneath it, confirming that the room was occupied. Opening the door carefully, she peered in. Her eyes landed on Richard, who was leaning against one of the shelves and nursing a glass of brandy.

His eyes lit up with recognition and something akin to relief, as if he had feared she might not come. As if her curious mind would have allowed her to sleep before getting answers to her questions.

“Please come in, My Lady,” he said gently, spreading his arms wide in welcome.

She came in and hung her coat on the coat hanger at the door, and then she stood there in her night rail. When she turned around, it was to see Richard’s eyes burning down the length of her body. The night rail covered her to the tips of her dainty toes, but it might as well have been transparent with the way his gaze affected her.

When he noted her awareness of his open gawking, he looked away.

It was now Selina’s turn to stare at him. His evening coat and waistcoat were gone. He stood there with only his shirt on. He had rolled the sleeves up to his elbows, revealing muscular, capable forearms dusted with hair. His cravat was gone, and his shirt was unbuttoned to the second button. His hair was slightly tousled, like he had run his hands through it several times.

Overall, the man oozed an easy appeal. His mussed appearance in the dim light of the library was doing strange things to her equilibrium. If she wasn’t careful, she might end up in the same state she had been in the previous night—embarrassed, mortified, and aroused.