the connection, the physical pull.
‘It won’t make them think any better of your father,’ he said, his voice harsher than usual, his breathing less steady than before.
She shrugged, feigning indifference to the obviously dismissive words. ‘I didn’t expect it would.’
‘Niall will teach them. Two mornings a week.’
Did this mean he supported the idea, after all? ‘He can apply to the vicar with respect to his pay.’
‘He will not require payment.’
Apparently, his pride would not permit Albright money to be spent, but he would begrudgingly accept the loan of the building.
‘Are you sure Niall would be willing to work for no pay?’
‘The children will not come to a stranger. And they need someone who speaks the Gaelic.’
‘The children would obey you.’
A small smile curved on his lips. ‘Aye.’ He brushed by her and out of the door. He stopped and looked back. ‘Thank your father for the use of the barn. I’ll have Will Gair set to making some tables and trestles. Him, your father can pay.’
No wonder he looked so pleased with himself. He had found a way for Father to right what he saw as a wrong. ‘You are welcome, Mr Gilvry.’
His cheeks flushed a little red. ‘Thank you, Lady Selina.’ He strode away.
A proud man, but even so she had managed him quite nicely. And so what if he took it upon himself to provide the teacher and charge her father
for the furniture? The children would have their schooling.
That was all that mattered. A feeling of satisfaction filled her. A sense of a job well done, despite his reaction. Perhaps the people of Dunross would recognise her father’s generosity, even if their Laird would not.
And as for thinking he was going to kiss her, well … that was all in her imagination. More likely, he had wanted to tell her to go to hell, but had put the welfare of his people ahead of his own preferences.
Two days later, a fine drizzle hung over the hilly landscape like mist. It was almost as if the clouds, having brushed against the heather-clad hills, wanted to linger. There was no thinking about setting foot out of doors, not even in the carriage, so Selina stretched out on the sofa in the drawing room with a book to while away the hours until supper.
The drawing-room door opened and Chrissie bounced in. ‘You will never guess who is here.’
Selina put down her book. ‘Who?’
‘Lieutenant Dunstan.’
Her heart took an unpleasant dive. She hadn’t expected him quite so soon. But the sooner the better, surely?
‘Is he here to see me?’
‘He is with your father in his study.’ Chrissie clasped her hands together. ‘I am sure he is here to propose.’
Good news—then why did she feel a kind of panic? She wanted this. It had been all her idea. A new beginning after her accident. ‘Did Father send for me?’
Chrissie frowned. ‘No. But I am sure he will want to see you when they have concluded their business.’
Chrissie was as anxious for the marriage as Selina was herself. She hadn’t said anything, but she and Selina had occasionally disagreed on household matters. Until Father had finally told Selina it was no longer her concern.
It had been a painful truth.
She swung her feet to the ground and set her book aside. She patted her hair and smoothed her skirts, a pomona-green muslin. ‘Should I change, do you think?’
‘You look lovely,’ Chrissie said with a smile. ‘You always do.’
‘Thank you.’ Before her accident, she had taken her appearance for granted. More recently, she had felt unsure. She took a deep breath and tried to keep her steps as even as possible.
The antechamber to the study was empty. Mr Brunelle, her father’s secretary, must be inside with her father, taking notes, recording agreements. Should she knock and go in, or wait for them to come out?
As she dithered, the door to the study opened. She pinned a smile on her face.
‘Lady Selina!’ The lieutenant sounded surprised.
She glanced at her father.
He frowned. ‘Did you want something, daughter?’
Blast. It seemed she wasn’t expected, or wanted, which meant they had not been discussing the betrothal after all. A feeling of relief swept through her, even as she realised they were waiting for some sort of explanation.
Heat bloomed in her cheeks as her mind raced. ‘I heard Lieutenant Dunstan was here and came to bid him welcome.’ She hoped she didn’t sound too feeble. ‘To ask him to take tea with Lady Albright and me in the drawing room.’
Dunstan’s face lit up. ‘Very kind of you, Lady Selina, I must say. I fear I cannot take advantage on this occasion. I have urgent business in the neighbourhood and came to discuss it with your father as local magistrate.’
‘Trouble?’ she asked.
‘Selina,’ her father said in a warning tone.
‘Smugglers,’ Dunstan said at exactly the same moment.
‘Oh, my goodness, are there really such villains abroad around here?’ she said with a hand to her throat and a gasp. She gave him a glance that said in her mind he was a hero.
‘Don’t worry, Lady Selina, my regiment won’t let them escape us, I can assure you. You have nothing to fear.’ The paternalistic tone made her grit her teeth. But he was only trying to soothe the feminine nerves she had put on display and there was nothing in his manner she should resent.
She fluttered her lashes. ‘I am so glad you are in charge, then.’
He bowed, took her hand and kissed it. ‘Until we meet again.’
His touch left her cold, calm, uninvolved. No wild flutters invading her body—just as she preferred.
‘Lieutenant Dunstan is engaged to us for dinner next week, Selina,’ her father said. ‘There will be lots of time for chatter then.’
Next week. Her future would be settled next week. The delay felt like a reprieve from the hangman’s noose, when she should be impatient for it to start.
‘I will look forward to it,’ she said, giving him her most brilliant of smiles and watching him blush with a sense of foreboding. Had she made a mistake in this man? Was he weaker than she had thought? She wanted him malleable, it was true, but not spineless.
It was too late for second thoughts. Too late to change her mind. She had made her choice and must abide by it, or be deemed beyond the pale.
