Page 30 of The Duke’s Hidden Duchess

“We must be seen,” he had told her that morning. “At the fashionable hour. A duke and his duchess taking the air like any settled couple.” He attended to his cuff rather than look at her. “Lady Marwood’s dinner is on Thursday. Half the ton will visit the park before then. I would rather their first sight of us be together and at ease than across her table, beneath her scrutiny.”

“Yes. A marriage which hides itself resembles a scandal that has not yet been named.”

“That.” He abandoned the cuff. “You taught me as much. I am merely applying the lesson.”

“You are learning to fight in the open. I approve. It suits you better than brooding in your study.”

And so, at five o’clock, they walked the fashionable path in the thinning afternoon light, her gloved hand resting upon his arm. The limes were in leaf, and the sunlight descended through them in shifting green patterns. Beyond the rails, the dust of the ride hung golden in the air as the horses passed.

Selina remarked upon the ridiculous hats and upon a spaniel which had escaped its mistress to conduct a private war against the ducks. Nathaniel laughed twice, publicly, where anyone might witness the Duke of Wexford doing so. He had not laughed in Hyde Park within living memory, and the occurrence would undoubtedly be reported before nightfall.

Twice, Selina paused to allow a child with a hoop to pass. The second time, she watched the child disappear around the bend in the path. Nathaniel did not ask what she was thinking, and she did not tell him.

They had gone perhaps halfway along the path when he noticed the woman.

She stood near the rail with two companions, thin and sharp-faced beneath an expensive pelisse. She had turned fully to stare; not with the fleeting glance of ordinary curiosity, but with the fixed, hungry attention of someone assembling a story. Her gaze moved from Selina’s face to the hand resting upon Nathaniel’s arm. She leant towards her companion and spoke behind a raised glove. The other woman looked as well, though they stood scarcely six feet away in the midst of the fashionable hour.

Nathaniel did not alter his pace.

He raised his free hand, placed it over Selina’s where it rested upon his arm and held it there, plainly visible to the woman by the rail, her companions and the entire indifferent park.

His hand was bare. At some point, he had removed his glove and placed it in his pocket, though afterwards he could not remember having done so.

Selina continued walking. Her hand remained motionless beneath his, but she turned her head a fraction so that only he could hear her.

“Is this permitted?”

“In public?” Nathaniel asked, matching her quiet tone.

“By you.”

He walked six or seven paces before answering. A phaeton passed along the road, its wheels grinding over the gravel while a boy called after it. Dust rose from the ride and remained suspended in the air. Near the rail, a woman laughed at a joke which had nothing to do with them.

“By me,” he said after a moment. “Entirely. But if it is not permitted by you, say so and I shall move my hand.”

His hold eased, leaving her free to withdraw, though he did not lift his hand.

“The woman by the rail gave me a reason to place it there,” he continued. “She is not the reason I have left it.”

Selina looked ahead, towards the path and the shifting green light beneath the limes. She did not withdraw her hand.

They passed the woman by the rail and continued beyond the reach of her attention.

Some distance later, Nathaniel said, “You have not asked me to remove it.”

“No. I am considering what that signifies, and I should be obliged if you did not assist me towards a conclusion. The matter is difficult enough without your hand making an argument of its own.”

“I had intended to remain silent.”

“Your hand is less disciplined than the rest of you.”

He looked down at it. “So it would appear.”

He did not move it, and she did not ask him to.

They continued beneath the limes in a silence that was no longer merely companionable. Acquaintances bowed and Nathaniel returned their greetings, though he afterwards recalled none of them. Beside him, Selina devoted an improbable degree of attention to the ducks.

At the gate, she withdrew her hand so that he might assist her into the carriage. The separation was ordinary, necessary and more keenly felt than the touch had been.