“Punishment, my dear.” She sauntered over to him and traced a gloved finger over his jaw. “You see, when you reject a woman and make her feel like a dirty piece of cloth, there are consequences.”
“That was never my intention,” Warrick bit out, hating her hands on him.
“And yet that was how I felt.”
He averted his gaze and grit his teeth. “How you feel is not my responsibility.”
“I beg to differ,” she said cheerily.
Warrick bit down on his teeth. There was no arguing with a woman who refused to own up to her actions.
Unbidden, thoughts of his curse surfaced. If he had wed before thirty, would he be dealing with such a crazed creature?But then, if hehadmarried before thirty because of a curse, it wouldn’t have been Selena.
And he very much wanted to marry her.
Chapter Eighteen
Selena lay onthe sofa in the library, her gaze remained locked onto the arms ticking in her pocket watch—three seconds past noon. Theodosia must be departing by now.
No betting book.
No ties cut.
Although, it would appear that the ties had been cut—again—from Warrick’s side. She hadn’t heard anything of him in two days. Oddly, her brother hadn’t shown his detestable face either. Had they dueled again and shot each other to death?
No, she would have gotten word by now.
Her gaze flicked to the crumpled note on the floor, the one that contained the date and time to meet that cloak woman with the grating voice. It had arrived this morning. She ought to have been elated at the invite. Giddiness should have invaded all her pores. Violins should have struck up a sweet tune in her head.
Why did she need to join a club to find herself anyway?
It’s a super-secret club of women.
Yes, but it wasn’tthatsecret anymore. It hadn’t been a true secret the moment she herself had discovered them. Now her friends knew. And Warrick. The secret element didn’t hold as much of an appeal anymore. Plus, they’d only invited her because they wanted something. Once again, she was overlooked as a person, seen only for her connections and what she could provide.
Andthatwoman was one of them.
Who did she want to be anyway other than Saville’s sister, heiress, lady? Wife? Spinster? Pariah?
Lady adventurer would be nice.Lady rebel had an interesting ring to it as well.
Selena sighed.
Lady Lazing Lazily was her title of today.
Her gaze fell on a cabinet opposite her. A bottle of golden liquor shone like a beacon through the glass pane. Was brandy not Warrick’s preferred method for receiving peace? Selena could do with a touch of that—peace of mind.
Or the reawakening of her inner composure.
She rose and padded over to retrieve the bottle. Saville enjoyed his drink, just like Warrick. She wondered when he ever drank in the library. Her brother was much like her—he didn’t read. With one exception: the papers.
He loved the gossip rags more than the busybodies of theton. Come to think of it, Savillewasone of the busybodies of theton.
She uncorked the bottle and took a swallow without bothering with a glass, wandering back to the sofa, patting her chest as a trail burned from her mouth to her gut, holding back the urge to cough.
Lord, it was strong.
Did all brandy claim a person’s breath like this? This was not peace.
