Page 14 of A Duchess Untouched

“Pacing? That is unusual for her. She always says exercise is only fitting to the poor,” Selina mused. Somehow, she felt something stir in the back of her mind.

Was her dear Grandmama, perhaps, feeling a little guilty about something she had done? Selina had no proof, but her grandmama was the only culprit in her mind. Who else could have come up with something so outrageous?

When they reached the door to the sitting room, Selina did not bother to knock. She opened the door and inhaled the sweet scents of dried lavender and tea. She was grateful for the change in scenery. Every dark corner would remind her of how willing she was to be seduced by her dear husband.

Just as Portia had said, Lord Marlow sat near the fire, reading a gazette that covered his whole face. Meanwhile, Lady Marlow looked restless, standing by the window.

At the sound of her granddaughters’ footsteps, Lady Marlow turned. Her sharp eyes swept over Selina, openly assessing, and did not miss the high lace collar she wore, so unlike her usual fashion. Selina had chosen it deliberately to hide the small bruise still marking her neck.

“What happened?” Lady Marlow demanded, without her usual formal greeting. The Baroness quickly left her perch and strode toward Selina. “Any news of your husband?”

“I believe it is you who should tell me, Grandmama.” Selina folded her arms across her chest. She already had her suspicions. Now she meant to have them confirmed, while also avoiding the questions in her grandmother’s eyes. Those large orbs were burning on her unseemly collar.

“Whatever do you mean?” Lady Marlow asked coolly. “You seem upset. Were you able to retrieve your father from that terrible gaming hell, or did he gamble the clothes on his back before you were able to do so?”

“Grandmama!” Selina exclaimed. She had never ever raised her voice to her grandmother before, but she needed answers, and the old lady could not possibly be feigning ignorance over something so important. “Do not play dumb with me. This has nothing to do with Papa. Tell me, what did you do?”

“Did you come all the way here to accuse me of this?” Lady Marlow asked. “Stop behaving like a tragic actress. It is not becoming of a lady of your station. Take a seat and have some tea before you completely fall into hysterics.”

“I will not sit down, Grandmama,” Selina protested. “Not until you tell me what happened. What did you say to my husband? Did you send him a letter?”

“Did I not always try to help you, my granddaughters? I always did what I had to do. Where is your husband? Is he not back in London in less than a week? Is he not back under the same roof as you, as I promised?”

“You sent him a letter claiming that I had died!” Selina cried, indignation rising from within her. “The missive instructed him to ride to London as quickly as he could to attend my funeral! My funeral! Don’t you find this completely preposterous and inappropriate?”

“Grandmama!” Portia gasped, sounding baffled. “You did not! You actually informed the Duke of Wentley that Selina was dead?”

“Ah, there you are, Selina!” Lord Marlow exclaimed, finally noticing her presence and disentangling from his newspaper. “I believe that you should eat as much bread as you like. You look quite thin!”

“Grandpapa,” Selina groaned. “Good day to you, too.”

“Selina, it was a necessary exaggeration,” Lady Marlow said, waving her hand in dismissal. “He has ignored London for four years. What did you think would bring him home? A letter saying you missed him? He has managed his estates from the country well enough without you. His mother’s soirees certainly never lured him back, and heaven knows Antoinette hosts one every week.”

“He rode all day and night, thinking I was dead. When he saw me alive, he thought that I was the one who had sent the lie to trick him. Do you have any idea how furious he was?”

“Good,” Lady Marlow declared. “This means that he is feeling something about what he has left behind. Oh, I am so tired of his apathy! If I had only known he would be like this, we could have married you off to someone else. Another duke. Maybe a prince. You had so many admirers…”

“By the way,” Lord Marlow began, looking at Selina with a kind smile, completely unaware of the topic of the whole conversation. “Did you bring me any sweet lemon tarts like you promised last time?”

“This is not the time for your tarts, Marlow! We have a serious discussion here!” Lady Marlow yelled close to his ear.

“Do not yell at him, Grandmama. It is not Grandpapa’s fault you did something so preposterous. I find it utterly indecorous that you meddled in Selina’s life like that,” Portia rushed to defend her sister and Grandpapa.

“So does this mean there are no lemon tarts to be had today?” he asked in disappointment.

“I am sorry, Grandpapa,” Selina said, feeling truly apologetic as her grandmother sighed. She had come to confront her grandmother, but should at least have brought something for her grandfather. She walked over to one of the chairs and settled in there. Suddenly, she felt truly exhausted. “Perhaps if Portia can accompany me later, we could go out to buy you a tart.”

“Smart?” Lord Marlow repeated. “Yes, Portia certainly is smart, but she needs to take her Seasons more seriously.”

“Grandpapa! I defended you!” said Portia.

“Well, perhaps she does not have to,” Selina muttered. “Look what good it did me…”

At that moment, a large ginger cat strutted toward her. It was Napoleon, the true king of Marlow House and Lord Marlow’s beloved pet. His green eyes locked onto Selina, whom he rarely saw these days. His tail twitched once. Then he did it again twice. His ears even flattened slightly as he trotted near Selina’s skirts. He looked suspicious of his master’s youngest granddaughter.

Napoleon sniffed the hem of her skirts slowly and deliberately. Selina held her breath, her mind turning to her husband’s massive dog, Maximus. Was that why the cat was behaving strangely around her? Just when she thought Napoleon would hiss at her, the cat leaped gracefully onto her lap.

“Oh, you do remember me, Napoleon,” she murmured, resting her back on the chair, hoping it would take away the tension from her body. The cat settled on her knees, purring loudly and rhythmically, and patted his paws on her. He was making biscuits as if they had never truly been apart.