“Hudson. Wait. I must talk to you.”
He would know Selina Lockhart’s voice anywhere. Not because it stirred fond memories but because it grated.
“What do you want, Selina?” He moved to walk past, but she grabbed his arm.
“Just a few minutes of your time. If you ever cared for me at all, surely you can spare me that. It’s about Terence.”
Perhaps he had cared for her once. Not in the way he cared for Claudia. And he considered the possibility that she might have useful information.
“Five minutes,” he said reluctantly, before offering a weary sigh. “Five minutes. That is all.”
A smile formed on her lips. It was the first time he’d seen a glimmer of happiness since his return. “Come,” she said. “We might have some privacy in the saloon.”
Selina hovered at his side. If she expected him to offer his arm, she was mistaken. He strode off in front, past two Grecian statues standing guard in the alcoves. Their coy expressions made him doubt his decision.
They slipped into the room occupied by men lighting candles and polishing glasses, men waiting to serve those who came to gorge on food and drink when they’d grown bored with the play. A few stragglers were already sitting around a table at the end of the long room.
“Perhaps you might start by telling me why Terence is enjoying the play from the luxury of Mrs Fanshaw’s box.” Lockhart drew Selina towards the window. The saloon’s intimate setting, with its red flock wallpaper and gleaming gilt sconces, added an illicit air to this secret conversation that did not sit well with him.
“Why do you think?” Selina replied evasively.
Lockhart shrugged. “He’s your husband. I imagine you might have something to say regarding the fact Mrs Fanshaw is hanging on his every word.”
“Terence has never been a faithful husband.”
So why the hell had he married her? For propriety’s sake? Perhaps Terence despised him and marrying Selina brought an element of satisfaction.
“Do you love him?” How she answered would prove telling.
Her eyes brightened. “I love you. I have always loved you.”
Ballocks!
Claudia Darling would have slipped her hand into his at the docks, would have walked the gangplank and never looked back.
“Then what a shame you lacked the courage of your convictions. That said, your loss proved to be my gain.”
“Your gain?” She jerked her chin in the air. “Oh, you’re referring to your obedient little wife.”
“You don’t know what love is, Selina.” Claudia’s sweet face flashed into Lockhart’s mind. “Thankfully, your selfish actions provided an opportunity for me to experience what trust and devotion truly mean.”
“My selfish actions?” Selina snorted. “I wasn’t the one who ruined everything because I couldn’t control my temper.” She gritted her teeth and muttered, “I wasn’t the one who drove a blade into a man’s heart and was forced to flee.”
A fury to surpass all others, a raging tempest set to clear the room in one fell swoop whirled in his chest. Despite everything Selina knew of him, she still believed he was guilty of committing such a vile atrocity. Bile bubbled in his stomach.
Lockhart snarled. “You cold, heartless—”
“Cold? Perhaps you’re mistaking me for your wife.” Spite dripped from ev
ery word. “She doesn’t love you. Any fool can see that. And you certainly don’t love her.”
The comments threw him. For a second he wondered if they had let their guard slip. Had Selina witnessed a wooden performance, the work of amateurs?
No!
He desired his wife, lusted after her, craved her company. It had nothing to do with stepping into roles and everything to do with the magnificence of the woman in question.
“Make no mistake,” he said, his words dripping with conviction. “I am in love with my wife.”