Page 10 of Drawn to the Duke
I write to you with regard to Lady Rushworth’s ball on August 14.
Rest assured that the plan to identify the three men currently under suspicion?—”
Selina felt a momentary pang. How wonderful it would be to attend an event such as Lady Rushworth’s ball. Had Selina not been so impetuous and instead married a man of whom her parents approved, she might well have.
She could have made a fine marriage with ‘Lady’ prefixing her name without having to pretend. She could have had a wardrobe finer than Lady Saunders’ or Mrs. Piggott’s.
But it was too late for regrets. She’d made her bed… And right now, time was of the essence.
So, taking the two sheets of paper below the letter in progress, Selina carefully rolled them up and tucked them into her reticule before turning back to the door.
She would have been gone less than three minutes. No one would remark upon her absence or, hopefully, miss the paper.
Tomorrow, she would hide herself in the shrubs beside the conservatory, execute a hasty sketch of Lord Chauncy, finish the finer details that evening, and then the following morning, Edward could present his perfect likeness to his Grace.
Lord Chauncy would be delighted, Edward would be mollified—though of course he should be delighted, also—and Selina would be…
Well, Selina would simply return home to take up the mantle of scandalous widow, pestering Edward to take her with him whenever he had a sketch to execute.
“Is anyone there?”
Horrified to see the doorknob turn, Selina blew out the candle and froze in the center of the room.
Although the curtains had not been fully drawn, the moon was under a cloud and in the inky darkness she could not see whoever approached, though she could hear the stealthy tread across the carpet and the faint protest of a floorboard.
But she had been in this situation before. Hiding. She knew what to do.
So, she regulated her breathing as best she could. Soft and shallow. He wouldn’t hear her; for she knew it was a man.
And she knew exactly which man it was. She could smell the sandalwood and citrus overtones unique to Lord Chauncy and which she’d noted when she first met him. Selina’s senses were highly attuned to a handsome man.
Just as Lord Chauncy’s senses seemed attuned to a foreign presence in the room.
Yet he said nothing as he advanced slowly, stopping when he was within a hair’s breadth of Selina. She could hear his breathing now. Louder than hers. She could feel the faint tickle of his breath against the top of her head.
Selina swallowed. She would not run and she would not declare herself. Perhaps His Grace would simply turn about and leave the room.
It was possible.
But of course, it was improbable. He knew someone was in his study and he would investigate.
In a moment, she would be exposed. Embarrassed, humiliated, and no doubt lambasted when he learned that she’d stolen from their host. He might even order Edward to leave his home, with Selina in tow.
Selina had heard that his Lordship had a volatile temper on occasion.
But he would decide.
So she waited.
Tensing, she felt his hand brush across the top of her head before it contoured her cheek.
Slowly.
Exploring.
With interest.
She drew in her breath, about to swat his hand away in indignation.
