The tears she’d been fighting sprang to her eyes, but she was too conscious of Kitty’s curious stare to let them fall. Nothing could keep her voice from thickening with betraying emotion. "Lord Bruard, what a pleasant surprise to see you."
Brock was quick off the mark. She had to give him that. He put on a more formal air and bowed. "Mrs. Martin, any sign of your friend yet? I’m more than happy to drive you to your destination, if you fear she’s been delayed."
To her chagrin, Kitty was no fool either. With unconcealed shock, her sharp gaze shifted from Selina to Brock then back again.
"Madam…" She’d gone as red as a beetroot. So had Selina.
"Excellent, my lord. Thank you. I’ll take you up on that offer." Selina turned back to a dumbstruck Kitty. "So you see, no need to worry about me. Lord Bruard will drive me to my friend’s door. You and John can go back to London now."
"He called you Selina," Kitty said in a flat tone.
"I have no manners," Brock said. "Pardon me, Mrs. Martin."
"Kitty, I’m going to spend next week with a school friend." Selina spoke slowly and with emphasis, in case the maid needed to repeat the details, should anyone inquire about her mistress’s whereabouts. "Then I’m returning to London, so I’m there when Gerald comes home from school. On Boxing Day, I’m marrying Mr. Canley-Smythe. As I told you, a quiet week with a congenial companion is just what I need before what promises to be a busy time."
"I understand," Kitty said.
To Selina’s mortification, she could see that the maid did indeed understand. And not the weak tale of wanting to visit some mythical school friend Kitty had never heard of. The girl could be in no doubt that the congenial companion was in fact one of London’s most notorious rakes.
"A few days out of my usual routine will do me a world of good."
As Kitty’s eyes rested on Selina, they were alight with compassion and far too much comprehension for comfort. She’d never confided in Kitty about her reasons for marrying Cecil. But it was clear now that her maid had long ago recognized what was at stake.
"That they will. I’m sorry to make such a fuss. I’ll go back to London and if anyone asks where you are, I’ll say you’re visiting an old friend."
Selina sought but didn’t find any trace of condemnation in the girl’s bright blue eyes. "I’ll be back next Wednesday."
"As you wish, madam." The girl curtsied. "My lord."
Once Kitty had left, Selina released a deep sigh of relief. "I’m sorry. I couldn’t get her to go. We can trust her not to tell anyone the truth."
"I came so close to making a complete mess of everything." Brock crossed the room to take her into his arms. "I’m sorry, my darling."
The "my darling" went a long way toward soothing her ragged nerves. She sagged against him, resting her head on his shoulder. The scents of leather and horses and lemon soap, and something spicy that was him, made her head swim. It was ridiculous, but she still felt like crying. "For a moment there, I feared that I wouldn’t get away. She’s very protective."
"I’m glad someone is. You seem to have always been so hideously alone."
"I’m not alone now," she murmured, rising to kiss the hard line of his jaw.
His hold tightened. "No, you’re not alone now."
Selina hadn’t been sure how she’d feel when she ran away to give herself to a lover. She’d spent most of the night fretting over whether she could do this wicked thing. She didn’t give a fig about surrendering her virtue to Brock. She’d been his from the moment she saw him. But she owed allegiance to two males, and what she did threatened them in ways she couldn’t justify.
She wasn’t yet wed to Cecil. If she was, however urgent her desire, she wouldn’t sneak into another man’s bed. But nonetheless she’d made promises to Cecil, and her presence here with Brock broke every one of them.
If anyone discovered her transgression and made it known, Gerald would be dragged into the ensuing scandal. Not to
mention that she’d lose any chance to offer him a secure future.
She’d arrived at the Blue Wagon in a lather of nerves and self-recrimination, none of which made her any less determined to grab her one chance at happiness. Having to put Kitty off the scent had tested her to the limit. Then all her effort turned out to be in vain, anyway.
Now she stood in Brock’s embrace and none of that mattered. What mattered was that at last she’d share her body with the man she wanted.
"I must be terrifically wicked," she murmured, half to herself.
"Not terrifically," he said with a hint of tender amusement. "Why so harsh?"
She knew that while this was a once-in-a-lifetime event for her, he didn’t take their affair with anything like the same seriousness. But that was difficult to remember when he spoke as if he understood her better than anyone else in the world. "I’m about to become a fallen woman, and I’ve never been so happy. That makes me wicked."