Danielle, was Selena’s first thought, and then she was immediately ashamed of the jealousy that twisted her heart. With fierce determination, she pushed it aside and looked up inquiringly, wondering why Martha had come to her. “Well then, perhaps you should show her to the parlor and send someone to fetch Mr. Ramsey.”
Martha shook her head adamantly. “She ain’t the kind to let in the house. You best come yourself. I left her standin’ on the veranda.”
Curious now, and chagrined that Martha would treat a visitor so impolitely, Selena quickly made her way down the hall. Finding the front door closed, she drew it open to admit the caller—and immediately realized what Martha had meant. Like Danielle, this visitor had red hair, but this was a vivid, flaming red, not lustrous auburn. And the gown she was wearing had a shockingly low-cut bodice that barely contained her ample breasts and boasted too many flounces for daytime wear. Her beautiful face was painted with the rouge and kohl of her profession. Beyond her, a one-horse gig sat in the drive.
Selena recognized her at once.
For a moment Selena stared at Angel without speaking. “May I help you?” she said finally, her voice weaker than she would have liked.
Angel lifted her chin proudly, though the gloves she had twisted in her hands showed her discomfiture. “My business is with Mr. Ramsey.”
“Please… come in. I will send a servant after Kyle.”
The red-haired woman eyed Selena warily, but she stepped over the threshold and followed her cautiously down the hall.
What did one do in such a situation? Selena wondered frantically as she led the visitor to the small parlor. She didn’t know how to behave or what to say—but then Angel, too, seemed nervous. The woman’s gaze flitted over the yellow damask curtains, the French hand-blocked paper and the Aubusson carpet embellished with floral patterns before she perched carefully on the edge of the brocade settee that Selena indicated.
In the end Selena did the only thing a well-bred lady could do. “It may be a while,” she said from the doorway. “Kyle is out somewhere in the fields. May I have someone bring you tea?”
“Tea? Me?” Angel looked shocked. But then she closed her gaping mouth and drew herself up a little straighter, nodding primly. “Yes, thank you. Don’t mind if I do.”
Selena left then and saw to the refreshments, but when she returned to the office, she couldn’t work. She was too conscious of the red-haired woman in the parlor. Finally she went upstairs to the schoolroom to check on the girls, then to her own room, where she restlessly paced the floor. She didn’t come down again until she heard a carriage drive away and saw Kyle striding back across the courtyard, heading for the stables.
That evening, Kyle came home earlier than usual for supper, but he said nothing about Angel’s visit, and Selena was too proud to ask, especially with his sisters within earshot. Just as she was retiring to bed, however, Kyle announced that he had business in town and that he would be out late. Feeling ice spread through her stomach, Selena searched his face. Kyle’s expression remained impassive, showing no indication of his intentions. She would have liked to demand what his business was, but she bit back the question and went up to her room alone.
Kyle followed her upstairs a short while later in order to change clothes. Shrugging out of his coat and waistcoat, he tried not to remember the troubled look on Selena’s face. He knew he should have told her what he had to do, but after his disclosures about his past relationships with Veronique and Danielle, he couldn’t bring himself to admit to Selena that he would be spending his nights in a bordello. He couldn’t lie to her, either, and so he had pleaded business obligations in an effort to spare her feelings.
At least Bea had promised to reassure Selena if the subject came up. He had told Bea where he would be, of course, in case he was needed, and Bea had understood immediately why he had to go. Angel was calling in a debt incurred years ago, a promise made by his father, and he was obliged to honor it. And at least it would keep him from having to face this torment night after night.
Pulling off his cravat, Kyle cast a fierce glare at the door that separated his rooms from Selena’s. God, he hated that door. How many nights had he spent staring at it and trying not to think of the slender, elusive woman sleeping on the other side? In reality it had only been a week since they had arrived at Montrose, but it seemed like a year.
Now he would be spending those nights at Heaven’s Gate, since Angel thought she needed his help to protect her place of business. He planned to return each day to Montrose and carry out his duties as master, but he would have to miss those early-morning conversations with Selena. He didn’t want to face her and see that wounded look in her eyes.
At dawn the next morning, he was still gone, so Selena ate a solitary breakfast, missing the intimate moments with Kyle that she had begun to cherish. The same procedure was repeated the following night and morning, and by the third night, despair was eating away at her heart. When Kyle had left for town, Selena made her way up to her room and went out onto the gallery. The air was heavy and warm with the scent of jasmine, but she felt too wretched to enjoy it.
Bea found her there moments later, standing in the darkness, staring down sightlessly at the night-shadowed courtyard. Selena stiffened, steeling herself against the pity she knew Bea would offer. She was sure Bea had heard about Angel’s visit. Martha would have told her.
When Bea laid a gentle hand on her shoulder, Selena knew she was right—and Bea’s soft words confirmed it.
“Selena…my brother wouldn’t betray your marriage vows with a woman like that.”
Selena felt her lower lip begin to tremble. Despairingly, she buried her face in her hands to keep the tears from coming. “Oh, Bea, she is so beautiful.” The words were dredged from her throat, as if her fears had to be spoken out loud.
“Not as beautiful as you are.”
Selena shook her head, unconvinced. How many times had her stepmother, Edith, said that her pallid looks weren’t the kind to appeal to men?
After a long moment, however, she got hold of herself and raised her head. “Why is it,” she said with quiet vehemence, “that I feel such a violent urge to scratch that woman’s eyes out?”
Bea chuckled. “Because you’re human, my dear, and your claim on your man is being threatened. And if you have half the gumption I think you do, you’ll fight for him.”
Wide-eyed, Selena turned to gaze at her sister-in-law, wondering if all Americans were so frank and outspoken.
“Kyle doesn’t love her,” Bea added soberly, “any more than he loves Danielle.”
“He loves his son.”
“That’s not the same thing at all.” She paused, then added gently, “You could make Kyle love you if you wanted to.”