Page 26 of The Duke’s Hidden Duchess

Selina turned them over in her lap and allowed the older woman to examine them without attempting to hide the ink stain or the roughened place upon her finger.

“They are hands accustomed to earning their keep,” Lady Marwood said. “Do you blame your father for making that necessary?”

“I neither blame nor forgive him, my lady. I was seventeen. I loved him, and he was taken from me by a law I had no power to contest. I have allowed him to rest there ever since.” Her voice thinned slightly, and she made no effort to disguise it. “I would prefer that you did not press me further upon the subject.”

The drawing room became very quiet. Somewhere below stairs, a door closed. Neither woman reached for the teapot at Selina’s elbow.

Lady Marwood inclined her head by a fraction, like a duellist acknowledging a touch.

“I shall leave your father where you have placed him.” She raised her cup and studied Selina over its rim. “What persuaded Wexford to act with such haste?”

“Practical considerations, my lady. He requires a wife and an heir, and he judged that my temperament might suit both his household and his sister. At Mrs Ottley’s, a gentleman publicly connected the name Gray with Calvert. It was reasonable to expect that gossip would supply the rest, and that the consequences would fall most heavily upon me. The incident lent urgency to a decision His Grace believed sensible for other reasons.”

“You describe your marriage rather as one might describe a settlement of accounts.”

“It was considered with much the same care, my lady.” Selina set down her cup untasted. “I shall not claim that it was a love match. You would discover the truth soon enough, and then you would know me for a liar.”

A quiet knock sounded before the door opened.

Nathaniel entered, and Selina knew from the brief movement of Lady Marwood’s eyes that he had heard at least the end of her answer. He paused behind Selina’s chair, one hand resting briefly upon its back, then crossed to bow over their visitor’s hand.

“Lady Marwood. You are welcome.”

“Your wife has been explaining the reasoning behind your marriage, Wexford. With greater candour than most brides would consider prudent.”

“My wife generally prefers accuracy to prudence.”

“So I have gathered.” Lady Marwood studied him. “She tells me that the match was founded upon practical considerations. Do you disagree?”

“No.”

“No?”

“The duchess has described its beginnings correctly.”

Lady Marwood looked from him to Selina. “Neither of you appears inclined to make the story prettier for my benefit.”

“You would detect the attempt,” Nathaniel said, “and think less of us both for making it.”

“Certainly. But one likes to know whether people will try.”

She replaced her cup upon its saucer.

“You will dine with me on Thursday at eight. I keep a small table and have grown weary of guests who agree with me merely because they believe it advantageous. Plain speaking may improve the evening.”

Nathaniel drew breath.

“Thursday at eight,” Selina said. “We shall be pleased to attend.”

She answered before he could speak. At the time, the decision cost her nothing. She was already considering the dinner, the guests Lady Marwood might assemble and the questions with which they would test her. For several minutes, she was pleased with herself.

Lady Marwood remained for the correct three-quarters of an hour. Then she rose, took up her cane and crossed the room without assistance. In the hall, she paused before a portrait of Nathaniel’s mother, then permitted the footman to open the door.

Her carriage rolled away.

After seeing Lady Marwood out, Selina returned to the drawing room. Nathaniel remained by the window.

“You handled that very well,” he said.