“You must.” She tried to pull her hand away, but he would not let her. “You must, Peter. Or—if not—I shall go on my own. I shall put it about that you’ve sent me away of your own accord—or—”
“I will follow you. I’ll let Lucinda chase you down with her rapier. The three of us will make camp in your stable and greet you with horse manure and tea every time you try to depart.”
“Stop it,” she said, and now she was crying in earnest, hot terrible tears that burned her nose. “Why are you doing this?”
“You are the heart of us, Selina. There is no family without you.”
“There will be no family if you do not follow this course! They will take the children away!”
He stood, and then he dragged her to her feet as well, pulling her up against his chest. “Come here,” he said. “Hush now. Hush.”
Then he held her, hard and unwavering. “We will figure this out together. I won’t let you go.”
“You’re making a mistake.” She heard herself say the words and knew she was lost. She’d already given in. She was going to let him do this—hold on to her. Despite the cost. Despite everything. Despite the fact that surely he must someday come to regret it.
“Sweetheart,” he said. “Loving you is not a mistake.” He brought his hand to her chin and pulled her face up, a firm, hard pressure with his thumb.
She felt vulnerable and quite thoroughly wrecked as he stared down at her. Her nose was running. He could see—oh, every messy broken part of her. All the depths of want and hope that she tried to keep hidden, the catastrophic desires that drove her.He saw it all with that clear-eyed relentless gaze, saw it all and wanted her anyway.
He kissed her on the mouth. She felt his hurt and frustration in the hard pressure of his lips, the clasp of his thumb on her chin—and when her lips parted and her hands slipped around his torso, she tasted his soft groan of relief.
She kissed him back, fear and want in equal measure inside her.
And when his hand shifted to her hair, pulling her harder into him, all she could taste was love—his and her own, patient and abundant.
When he finally broke away, she whispered into his shirtfront, “I love you too, you know. I can’t bear to hurt you.”
“Then for Christ’s sake stop talking about leaving.” He stroked her hair back off her brow, and then kissed her there too. “Come here. Sit with me. Let’s work this out together.”
He sat again, shuffling her about in the brocade armchair with him. She ended up half curled atop him, her feet tucked between his thighs, her dress spilling in all directions.
“First,” he said, “let’s discuss the worst possible outcome. If we lose”—she started to speak, but he shushed her—“ifwe lose, which I very much hope will not be the case, it’s not the end. We can appeal the ruling. We can bribe whoever it is they appoint. Hell, we can kidnap Freddie and Lu and sail to New Orleans before the ink has dried on the chancellor’s writ of guardianship.”
“But it’s not whatyouwant. Or what I want, either.”
“Right.” He brushed her cheek with his thumb. “That is why it’s the worst possible outcome. But we’ll survive even that.”
She hated the very idea, hated that he would be forced to accept that result because of her. “If you do not cast me out, surely there is another way you can signal your disapproval of myactions? You could take out an advertisement in the newspaper, perhaps.”
He directed a sardonic glance toward her.
“Perhaps not, then.”
“I’m more likely to advertise how infernally clever you are, and you know it,” he said.
“That would not be advisable.”
“Rarely,” he said, “do I do anything just because it is advisable. Or else I’d be married to one of your carefully selected candidates and as miserable as a stump.”
She let herself lean into him, a luxury of warmth and solidity. “Iris Duggleby would not have brought this down upon your head, at least.”
He snorted. “Is that right? Do you mean Iris Duggleby’s not a member of your library, then?”
Indeed she was. In fact, they all were, all of the women she’d proposed that Peter marry—Iris and Lydia and even Georgiana, who evidently would have been as outrageous a duchess as Selina herself.
“Simply having a membership is no mark of shame, at this point,” Selina said. “It cannot be. Half thetonare members by now.” She spared a thought for the imminent wreckage of her business and sighed. “We are going to lose so many customers after this scandal breaks.”
Peter tapped a finger on the arm of the chair, just once. “Is that right? Half theton?”
