Page 66 of The Duke’s Hidden Duchess

“Giles has waited eight years. I doubt he objects to waiting a little longer, provided waiting continues to profit him.”

The fountain went on spilling its inadequate stream behind them. Rowland took another drink. His ease had returned now that he believed the conversation was moving upon ground of his choosing.

Selina held his gaze.

“So we pay you, and Giles remains silent.”

“I said nothing of the kind.”

“No. You were careful not to.”

His expression hardened.

“You are not in a position to be clever.”

“Then what position am I in?”

“A dangerous one.”

Selina let the answer settle. Then she allowed the tremor into her hand.

It was small, no more than a movement of the glass against her fingers, but visible.

Rowland saw it.

The hardness went out of his face by degrees. Satisfaction was more useful to him than anger.

“You think the title protects you,” he said quietly. “It does not. A title makes a fall more interesting. If Merrow chooses to put those papers before the right people, you will discover how quickly the same drawing rooms which received the Duchess of Wexford remember Lady Selina Calvert.”

Selina did not answer at once.

Around them the gathering continued with perfect indifference. A servant crossed the terrace carrying a tray. The musicians reached the end of a piece and began another. No one looking towards the fountain would have seen anything more remarkable than two acquaintances engaged in private conversation.

“And if my husband pays?”

“The letters disappear.”

“And Giles’s papers?”

“Need never become anybody’s concern.”

Selina looked at him.

“Need never?”

The question was quiet.

Rowland realised it then. Not the whole of it. Only that he had said too much.

His eyes narrowed.

The change was immediate enough that Selina knew the conversation had reached its end. There would be no coaxing anything further from him now.

Her hand steadied around the glass.

“Thank you,” she said.

“For what?”