Page 96 of The Duke’s Hidden Duchess

“You are making it very difficult for me to keep my composure,” she said. “I have very little of it left tonight, and I was relying upon the remainder to get me to the carriage.”

“Then you need not spend it on me.”

“That is easily said.”

“I know.”

She looked at him. “You told me once before that you loved me. In the rain, when neither of us was at our most sensible.”

“I was entirely sensible.”

“You were soaked through.”

“The conditions are unrelated.”

A laugh threatened and disappeared. Selina looked back towards the gardens.

“You told me then,” she said slowly, “and I told you why I could not answer.”

“I remember.”

“That the last person I loved was hanged.”

“I remember that too.”

“And you have never asked me again.”

“No.”

“Why?”

“Because you said not yet.” His voice was quiet. “Not yet is not an invitation to ask every morning whether today is the day.”

Her eyes filled before she could prevent them. This time she did not look away.

“I have been very unfair to you.”

“I disagree.”

“You frequently do.”

“Only when necessary.”

She laughed once through the tears and pressed the heel of one hand briefly against her eye.

“I thought if I did not say it, I could keep some part of myself outside it. As though the word were the dangerous thing.” She shook her head. “Which is absurd. I have loved you whether I called it anything or not.”

Nathaniel did not move.

Selina drew a breath.

“I think it began when you ceased being the man I had decided you were. Which was extremely inconvenient. I had formed a very serviceable low opinion of you, and then you insisted upon ruining it.”

“I apologise.”

“No, you do not.”

“No.”