Читать книгу The Marriage Rescue - Joanna Johnson - Страница 11

Selina glanced across at Edward, riding next to her on his sleek thoroughbred mare. Even in the silvery moonlight she could see his sharp jaw was tightly clenched as he bent low over his horse’s neck, urging her on at full speed. She swallowed. Even at this pace they might still be too late.

At that first cry Selina had vaulted from her bunk and thrown on her clothes. Something within her had known what was happening even before the woman had stumbled up the steps of her caravan and hammered on the door, shouting out what she had seen and moaning in fear.

‘They’re coming! They’re coming for us! What will we do? How can we defend ourselves?’

‘We can’t.’ Zillah had stumped the short length of the cabin, unbolted the split door of the vardo and taken the wailing woman outside firmly by the shoulders. ‘The only hope we have of surviving this is to lock ourselves in and pray for a miracle.’

‘Is that all?’ The woman had stared at Zillah, and Selina had seen the horror in her eyes. ‘Is that all we can do?’

‘Yes. With the men away we have no protectors. We don’t even have any tools with which to arm ourselves—curse our foolishness! We should have planned for this.’

In the dim light Zillah had looked haggard with fear, and for the first time in her life Selina realised her grandmother was afraid. The knowledge had shaken her to the core. If weathered, unflappable Zillah was frightened, their situation must be every bit as bad as Selina feared.

‘We bolt our doors and we pray.’

‘And if they break down our doors? What then?’

Zillah closed her eyes. ‘Then we try to save the children. Whatever the cost.’

That was when they’d heard it: men’s voices, perhaps ten in all, punctuated by the excited baying of a pack of hounds. The woman had paled and fled back to her caravan, to drive home the heavy bolt across her door and gather her children round her, as though there was something she could do to keep them safe.

‘So this is where you’re hiding, is it?’

‘Did you think we wouldn’t find you, child-stealer?’

Selina’s blood had run cold. She had known those voices—Harris and Milton, Edward Fulbrooke had called them. She’d remembered their threats, and her stomach had begun to knot in animalistic terror.

‘We’ve brought some friends with us. Why don’t you come out and meet them? Such a shame you ran from us before—if you hadn’t we wouldn’t have needed to come and find you...’

Selina’s heart slammed into her ribs now, as she and Edward rode onwards. They were so close. Was there a chance they would get there in time? She imagined the children, cowering behind their shaking mothers as the sound of the men’s mocking laughter echoed around the camp and heavy clubs began to whistle towards shuttered windows—

She gasped for air. No. She couldn’t allow herself to think like that. If she went to pieces how would Edward find the camp? She had to stay strong and do whatever it took to protect her people. She had already taken the biggest risk, in the name of salvation.

Zillah had stared at her, eyes wide with horror. ‘What? What did you say?’

‘You said yourself—we need a miracle!’

‘That would be no miracle, girl, only madness!’ Zillah had backed away from her. ‘You would go to them for help? Our enemies?’

‘What choice do we have?’ Selina cried. ‘He gave me his word; I mean to test it!’

‘But, Lina—’

‘This is all my doing. I’m the only one with even the smallest hope of getting us out of this unscathed.’ Selina had grasped both of Zillah’s hands in her own and felt them tremble. ‘Do you think I would go if there was any other way? You know I would not. You know I don’t make this decision lightly.’

From outside the caravan both women had heard a fresh scream, followed by a bray of boorish laughter.

‘Grandmother, please. I have to try.’

Zillah had peered up at her, an unreadable expression in her ebony eyes, and given a shuddering sigh. ‘Your mother wouldn’t want this, Selina.’

‘Perhaps. But I know she wouldn’t want anyone getting hurt if I had a chance to protect them.’

She’d slipped from the caravan and out into the meadow. Keeping to the shadows, she’d called softly to Djali and been up onto his back and gone from the camp before anybody could stop her.

She felt Edward’s eyes upon her, although she didn’t dare turn her head to look. She’d been grateful when he’d saddled up and followed her—more grateful than he would ever know—and amazed, too. She hadn’t really expected him to keep his word, but to try had been her only option. What had been the real chances that an upper-class gentleman would honour his promise to a Roma?

She had obviously underestimated him in that moment, but that didn’t mean she trusted him. The canker of suspicion ran too deep, and even now Selina had the unpleasant feeling of having jumped from the frying pan into the fire.

Even the horror of her current circumstances hadn’t managed to completely obliterate her disloyal senses, however. A furtive glance towards him was like a swift punch in the guts. Once again she was assailed by the handsomeness of his face and the powerfully masculine frame of his body, and she felt her throat contract as she caught a glimpse of a tantalising expanse of toned chest: Edward’s shirt had apparently been thrown on in great haste, with a few buttons left unfastened. There was a smattering of hair there, far darker than the gold on his head—fascinatingly so, in fact...

Selina wrenched her eyes away before he could turn and catch her looking. Even more mortifying than she ever would have believed was the realisation that she was enjoying the sight of him improperly dressed. It caused her great agitation, and her cheeks were flushed with both shame and guilt as she rode next to him in pained silence. Shame for appreciating such a trivial thing at such a time, and guilt at being appreciative of such a man at any time whatsoever.

Her instinctive attraction to Edward seemed to be tightening its grip on her, not loosening as she had hoped, and her grip on Djali’s reins tightened likewise at the thought.

‘Are we getting close?’

Selina swallowed hard, trying to force her voice into some semblance of normality. ‘Yes. The camp is just beyond the line of trees up ahead.’

Edward nodded and spurred his horse onwards. Refusing to be outpaced, Djali surged forward too, and the horses flew neck and neck across the final stretch.

As they approached the screen of branches Edward began to slow. ‘Miss Agres. Stop.’ He pulled his mare up short.

Frowning, Selina did the same, and watched as Edward dismounted and hooked his reins over a branch. ‘I want you to wait here.’

‘What? No!’ She slipped down from Djali’s back and moved to stand at his head. ‘Mr Fulbrooke, there’s no way I’ll be leaving my people to face this alone!’

‘Be sensible.’ Edward’s voice was steady. ‘If what you have told me is true, these men were drawn here by your presence. What effect do you think it will have if you suddenly appear in front of them?’

Selina opened her mouth, but her reply was quickly cut off by Edward’s outstretched hand. He stood so close he could have touched her if he’d chosen to. His proximity made Selina’s heart skip an unwilling beat and she quickly took a step backwards.

‘The last thing either of us wants is to make things worse. I would consider it a personal favour if you would stay here until I come to find you.’ He looked away. ‘I would also like to know that you’re safe.’

Selina blinked at him. He actually sounded concerned for her welfare. In all probability it was an affectation, born out of some misguided upper-class notion of honour, although she might have been fooled, had she been the foolish type, into believing he was genuine. And yet—to her shame—the notion that he might harbour some kind of regard for her wasn’t unpleasant. Certainly some small part of her—a disloyal part, she thought crossly—hoped, against her better judgement, that he might be sincere.

Why, Lina? Because he’s handsome? Selina scoffed at herself, irritated by her own brief weakness. You should know better than that. Why should he feel any kind of concern for you? And why should you want it?

‘I’ll stay here,’ she said reluctantly. ‘But only because I know you speak the truth. I can well imagine what would happen if those men laid eyes on me again.’

Edward nodded. ‘I’m glad. Now I’ll go and see what can be done to help your people.’

Selina stared at the ground. Edward’s boots really were the best she had ever seen, and it was much easier to look at them than into the eyes of their owner. ‘Thank you.’

‘Don’t thank me yet.’

There was an edge of grim humour to Edward’s voice, and Selina chanced a glance up at his face. His firm jaw was fixed, and even in the pale light of the moon she could see the set of his expression. He looked determined, yet calm, and the combination only served to emphasise the handsome lines of his features. Selina twisted her fingers together beneath the cover of her cloak.

‘We need to make sure I’m successful first. I intend to seek out every man who thinks he has the right to do this, and show him the error of his ways. Now, please, hide yourself. I hope to be back soon.’

Selina watched as he moved cautiously through the trees and vanished from her sight. Well, I did what I could. It was all up to Edward now, she supposed as she settled herself against the thick trunk of a spreading oak.

And what of Mama? Zillah’s earlier rebuke echoed through Selina’s mind. Would she really be so appalled? Or would she understand that family came first and must be protected even if at great personal cost?

Edward had taken her by surprise so far, she could not deny it. His conduct towards her had been far better than she would have expected from a gentleman—and a Fulbrooke, come to that. His face was undeniably pleasing, though his fair looks were in stark contrast to the dark Roma handsomeness, strange but not unappealing in their novelty.

Not that you should care for such pretty manners, or notice the colour of his eyes, she reminded herself sternly. It took more than such trivial things to impress her. It was just an observation, and one she would continue to strive to banish from her mind.

She shivered. A glance down at her hands showed that they still shook—with cold or fear? she wondered. She strained her ears, both hoping and dreading to catch a whisper of a clue as to what was happening beyond the trees, but there was nothing save the quiet breathing of the horses and the sigh of leaves stirring in the night air.

Selina squeezed her eyes shut. Oh, Mama. What would you have done?

* * *

Edward felt the brutal atmosphere change to one of shamefaced fear almost as soon as he stepped from the camp’s shadows into the light of Harris’s torch and swept it from his hand with rough force. One glance at Edward’s flame-lit face—rigid with cold fury—was enough to make the group of men, frozen in the act of battering the spoked wheels of a caravan, decide that perhaps the Roma had learned their lesson, and Edward might almost have laughed at the instantaneous change of their voices from jeering to pleading.

‘We were just trying to protect Miss Ophelia, sir,’ Milton ventured meekly, attempting to hide a club behind his back as his friends shuffled from foot to foot, their eyes sliding past Edward to fix on the ground.

‘Do you think me a simpleton, man?’

Edward turned to him, feeling the rage that bubbled within him course hotly through his veins. The Roma women inside their caravans must have been beside themselves, he thought disgustedly. What kind of man could take pleasure in such a thing?

‘We both know this has nothing to do with my sister and everything to do with your need to bully those you feel beneath you. Am I wrong? Do you disagree? Answer me!’

The gamekeeper stared down at his boots, the ashen shade of his face visible even in the moonlight. ‘I... I’m not...’

‘Not a bully? Of course you are. You all are. What other possible explanation could there be for ten men to go to the effort of seeking out and then attacking a camp full of women and children?’

Edward glared down at the man from his great height. The image of Selina’s terrified expression and shaking body flashed before him and he felt his fury surge upwards. Even if the Romani woman hadn’t been such an undeniable beauty—which, he had to admit to himself, was part of the reason he had extended the hand of friendship in the first place—he still would have interceded on her behalf. How dared these men take it upon themselves to behave so appallingly on his estate? And, to add insult to injury, to pretend they did so out of loyalty to his sister?

‘You didn’t do this for Ophelia.’

He gestured across the camp, catching glimpses of the damage as he turned. Cooking pots and blankets lay strewn across the ground, evidently kicked about by heavy boots, and more than one lantern had been hurled down to burst into shards of glass. The caravans had fared better than he had feared, at least. The half-hour it had taken for Selina to return with him hadn’t left the men enough time to destroy any of them, although several now bore the marks of savage blows to their wooden walls.

‘Not for her. You did it because you wanted to.’

It was an ugly truth, Edward knew, but a truth nonetheless. He’d heard tales of abuse before, from the Roma boys he had played with as a child, when their easy laughter and unselfconscious warmth had seemed poles apart from the stiff propriety of playmates in his own class and their welcome of him had left a permanent impression of their decency.

There was no basis for this mistreatment—no justification at all. But folk inherited their intolerances from their fathers, as had their fathers before them, and prejudice was passed down through generations to rest in the hearts of men such as Harris and Milton—men with little power of their own, whose low social standing fanned the flames of their desire to find someone, anyone, they perceived to be worth less than themselves to bear the brunt of their frustrations.

He surveyed the men surrounding him, taking in their various attempts at contrite expressions, and felt his rage renew its vigour. He could dismiss them—throw them off his land just as they had wanted to drive off the Romani—but they had wives who had committed no crime other than making a dubious choice of husband, and children, too, reliant on their fathers’ employment for survival. To remove the men from his service would be to punish their families, some of whom had served the Blackwell estate for generations, and he felt a twinge of conscience at the thought of that.

Damn it all. These animals should count their blessings.

He looked down at them, his face set in an expression of grim dislike. ‘I have decided on this occasion to let you off with a warning. Make no mistake, however,’ Edward went on. ‘I will not tolerate this kind of behaviour on my property. If I hear anything of this nature has happened again, next time I will not be so lenient.’

The light of their torches illuminated the men’s faces, each sagging with relief.

Only Milton looked mutinous, and Edward raised a challenging eyebrow. ‘Something troubles you?’

‘No, sir.’ Milton shook his head quickly, although resentment gleamed dully in his sunken eyes. ‘Thank you for your kindness, sir.’

‘Very well.’ Edward nodded his head in the vague direction of where the estate workers’ cottages lay. ‘You may all return home now, to reflect upon what I have said.’

The men slunk off, dogs creeping at their heels. No doubt to tell their wives of Squire Fulbrooke’s unfair and malicious treatment of his well-intentioned, faithful servants, Edward imagined. He snorted as he watched them go, slouching away between the trees. It was almost an anti-climax, how easily he had been able to intervene. They were cowards indeed.

Long grass knotted about his boots as he fought his way back up the bank and through the line of trees to where Selina waited, a silent shape at the base of an ancient tree.

‘Mr Fulbrooke!’ She leapt to her feet when she saw him coming, one hand at her throat and the other on the tree’s trunk to steady herself. ‘What happened? Is the camp—?’

‘Do not fear.’

Edward could hardly keep himself from reaching out to touch her shaking hand. She looked as though she might faint, he noted in alarm. Not that he would blame her if she did. She’d had the most terrible experience, and if anything he was rather impressed by how well she’d handled it.

The notion almost made him frown. ‘The men have gone and your camp is safe.’

‘Gone? Safe?’

Edward looked at Selina a little more closely. Pale and beautiful in the soft light of the moon, she appeared to be swaying now. ‘You look a little faint. Here, take my arm. We can walk together.’

‘No.’ Selina shook her head wildly. ‘I’ll ride—it’ll be quicker. I have to get back now.’

‘You’re in no fit state to ride anywhere. Let me help you. You’re no use to anybody unconscious.’

‘But Djali—’

‘Will follow us, I’m sure. Now, come. Take my arm.’

She hesitated, suspicion sparking in her eyes once more. Edward sighed, supressing a flicker of irritation. Mistrustful as a feral cat.

‘Miss Agres. I have risen in the middle of the night, ridden for miles and dispersed a mob—all in the name of your safety. Do you really think it likely that I undertook all that only to lunge at you on the pretence of offering my arm?’

Selina’s eyes flashed, and she opened her mouth to reply before evidently thinking better of it. She took a shaky step forward and, with the air of one with a gun to her head, slipped her hand beneath his arm and gripped tightly.

It was a warm little hand, Edward noted with a jolt of surprise. The night was chill, but the patch of forearm covered by her palm suddenly didn’t seem cold at all. It was an unexpectedly pleasant sensation. Usually having a woman on his arm felt intrusive, but Selina’s touch, although firm, was not invasive.

He wondered for a moment at how it was that her grasp was so much more bearable than anybody else’s had ever been. If he were to be honest with himself, it was more than merely bearable... At the first touch of her fingers he’d felt a sharp pulse of something unexpected shoot through him—a bewilderingly quick nameless rush that had caused him to frown in surprise. He glanced down at Selina, searching her face for any indication that she had felt a similar sensation, but she studiously avoided his gaze, the faintest suggestion of a blush colouring her cheeks.

‘Can we go now, please, Mr Fulbrooke?’

Edward smothered a smile at the careful politeness of her tone. ‘Of course. Watch your step.’

The slight pressure of her hand on his arm was the only way Edward knew she walked beside him. Her steps were almost silent, graceful as any wild animal.

It was only a short distance to walk: down a small slope, through a band of trees and then out into the secluded meadow that Selina’s Roma community had thought so safe.

Edward surveyed the scene in front of him. Fires had been lit in his absence, their orange tongues dancing in the night air, and a group of women stood to one side, conversing in low voices that flared with both sorrow and relief. Among them a young girl was singing softly in a tongue Edward didn’t recognise, gently rocking a baby on her hip. An old man, bent almost double with age, seemed to be tending to an injured horse, while a small boy carefully swept up a heap of spilled oats from an upended sack. Another cluster of women were gathered around one of the caravans, its painted sides still gleaming cherry-red in the firelight but heavily dented by brute force.

He approached cautiously. Despite Selina’s presence at his side he could almost feel the cold stares of the women upon him, their fear and uncertainty palpable.

‘Grandmother!’

Selina slipped away from him and the place where her hand had rested on his arm felt suddenly cold. She had held it there for mere minutes, and yet he felt a curious sense of loss at the withdrawal of her touch. Edward pulled his coat closer about himself, shrugging off the uncanny sensation. He must be getting tired... His mind was beginning to play tricks on him.

Selina was in the arms of an old woman, being folded into a fierce embrace. The woman was small and frail-looking, but with a similarity around the cheekbones that suggested a family connection. The embrace ended and the two began to talk. He heard the rise and fall of their voices, soft at first, but swelling to such a pitch that the neighbouring Roma glanced across in concern.

He thought he saw the glint of tears on Selina’s face, shining like rubies in the light of the fire, and turned away. You shouldn’t be here, he warned himself. You’ve played your part. Selina and her grandmother evidently had much to discuss, and none of it his business. He should enquire as to whether he could be of any further assistance and then leave these people in peace.

‘Mr Fulbrooke?’ Selina stood close to him, her fingers working in apprehension. The fire lit up one side of her face, making flames dance in one jet iris while throwing the other into shadow. ‘My grandmother told me what happened, and what you did to help us. We are so grateful.’

Edward smiled. ‘It was a pleasure.’ The tears had gone, he saw: she’d rubbed them away with the back of her hand when she’d seen him looking. There was softness under her tough facade, he was sure. Why was she so determined that he not see it?

‘We are forever in your debt.’

‘There is no debt, Miss Agres.’ He shook his head. ‘You were kind to my sister when she was in need and I’ve just shown the same kindness to you and yours.’

Selina nodded, although Edward saw unhappiness in the lovely oval of her face. The sight niggled at him, creating an uncomfortable feeling of concern that took him by surprise. ‘Has something else occurred?’ he asked.

‘Something else?’

‘You were so relieved before we arrived in camp. Now you’ve spoken with your grandmother and you seem distressed again. What has she said to you?’

‘It’s nothing that need trouble you.’ Selina’s voice was quiet and she looked away from him across the camp.

Edward followed her gaze to where a little girl was attempting to coax her trembling dog out from beneath a caravan, the wheels of which were scarred by the blade of an axe.

‘It’s only—they said they’d be back.’

‘What?’

Selina turned to him, her eyes huge with worry. ‘As they were leaving Grandmother heard them. They said it was only on your land that you would feel obliged to protect us, and that as soon as we moved they would come to find me.’

Edward felt his pulse quicken. Those two-faced, disobedient rogues. How dared they make new threats? How dared they try to get around his express word? And yet...

There isn’t much I can do to prevent it, he thought darkly. Edward couldn’t control what they did outside his estate, and short of catching them in the act he would have no concrete proof of their involvement in any future incidents.

Selina’s voice was hoarse. ‘It’s all my fault.’

‘It is not.’

‘Oh, but it is.’

She smiled then, a tight stretch of her lips filled with such sadness and fear that Edward felt another sharp stab of that something lance through his chest, only to flicker and fade the next moment.

‘Why do you say that?’

‘Because it’s me they want. And they’ll continue to hound us, over and over, until they find me.’

He gazed down at her. Out of the corner of his eye he could see the group of women watching him, Selina’s grandmother among them. Nobody seemed willing to come nearer, and the contrast between their wary distance and the way women of his own class clustered around him at any given opportunity was so absurd a part of him wanted to laugh.

The sight of Selina’s rigid face stopped him. ‘What is your plan?’ he asked.

She sighed—a long drawn-out shudder of breath that seemed to come all the way up from her toes. ‘I’ll have to give myself up to them. There is no other way.’

‘You cannot possibly!’ Edward stared at her, hardly able to express his disbelief. ‘You cannot mean that!’

‘What choice do I have?’ Selina stepped away from him, her face shuttered and blank. ‘Apparently I’ve made fools of them—and they won’t stop until they’ve proved they’re the victors and I’ve lost.’ She shook her head slowly. ‘They’ll continue to terrorise us when we leave here, and with the health of the babies and our menfolk’s jobs we can’t get far enough away to escape them. This is the only way.’

Edward passed a hand through the tousled thatch of his hair. Selina had given him a brief outline of the Roma’s current situation as they had ridden out from Blackwell. To move the community now would indeed spell disaster.

‘So, you see, it’s what I must do. Grandmother forbids it, of course.’ There was a ghost of that terrible smile again. ‘But I won’t allow a repeat of what happened tonight.’

It was unthinkable. Edward paced a few steps away from her, noting with perverse amusement the way the group of women standing nearby flinched backwards. She couldn’t. The very idea that Selina would consider sacrificing herself for the good of her community was madness.

A commendable sentiment, Edward thought, but utter madness.

The fact that he couldn’t see how to prevent it from happening pained him more than he cared to admit. He had no choice other than to acknowledge that she was a remarkable woman, quite unlike any he’d met before, and the notion of her in such danger was abhorrent to him. Of course she would face that danger bravely—there was that damned flicker of admiration again—but still...

If only there was a way he could reliably intervene...a set of circumstances that meant Harris and Milton could never touch her and she would be permanently out of their reach...

They would continue to hunt Selina, of that he was certain. Their lust for vengeance for her perceived victory and the pull of that generations-strong prejudice was too powerful. Neither common decency nor the pleas of their wives would prevent them from attempting to punish Selina and the other Roma. She had escaped them not once, but twice, and now their resolve would be firm.

No doubt it was the rumours of his family’s mistreatment of the Roma that had made the men feel safe in persecuting them, Edward mused darkly. Charles had done something terrible, and Ambrose had all but chased the travellers off his land. Their prejudices had been clear to all—perhaps people suspected that Edward shared their sentiments.

The idea that he might so easily have followed their unthinking bigotry was uncomfortable. Thank goodness I was taught better than that, he thought, his eyes on Selina’s silent face.

His childhood Romani friends had done him that favour, by including him in their play and allowing him to be himself in a way frowned upon at his austere home.

And that little Roma girl who showed me such rare kindness will never know the difference she particularly helped to make.

Her tender care of him was something he hadn’t experienced at Blackwell Hall; his mother had been only occasionally attentive, in a detached sort of way, and Ambrose had never so much as lain an affectionate hand on his shoulder.

The thought of his father caused a pain in his chest Edward could have done without, and resentment swelled within him once again as the contents of that enraging final letter ran through his head.

Having been temporarily replaced by the severity of Selina’s situation, his own troubles now returned to the forefront of his mind with a vengeance, and Edward felt his insides twist with renewed anger at the late Squire’s meddling. Time was running out for him to claim his inheritance—a needless pressure born out of one man’s obsession with control.

But Edward was his own master and always had been—that was what his father had hated so much. To make Edward obey him in death in a way he hadn’t managed in life would have been Ambrose’s final victory.

An idea exploded into Edward’s consciousness with such vigour he could have sworn he heard it. Of course. It was so simple—and wouldn’t it neatly solve Selina’s problem at the same time as his own?

He would obey his father’s will to the letter—right down to the final dot of the final ‘i’. He would marry as instructed—but not to the kind of woman Ambrose would have so ardently desired, nor one in any way reminiscent of the lady who had taken his heart only to grind it into dust.

It was risky. People wouldn’t like it. Certainly his father would have been beside himself with rage. But the opinion of society had never mattered much to Edward and, given the desperate circumstances of both parties involved, it now mattered even less. There was even some satisfaction to be taken in knowing he was, as always, acting according to his own wishes—dictated to by nobody but himself.

‘Miss Agres?’

Selina had turned away from him. Standing before the fire, only her silhouette was visible to Edward’s gaze, outlined in sparks and tongues of curling flame. He could see the tension in her back and knew it was only by sheer willpower that she was maintaining her composure.

‘Yes.’

‘I think I may have a solution to your current dilemma—depending on your answers to two questions.’

‘Have you?’ Her tone was flat and devoid of curiosity. ‘And what would those questions be?’

Edward ignored how dull she sounded, feeling his hopes beginning to build. ‘The first is: What is your age?’

She didn’t turn to look at him, her eyes still fixed on the flames before her. ‘How is that of any relevance?’

‘Please. Humour me.’

She sighed, as though it was an effort to find the words to reply. ‘Very well. I am recently turned twenty.’ The fire crackled, sending sparks swirling into the night sky. ‘Your second question?’

Edward reached for her. At the first touch of his hand on her shoulder Selina jumped and swung round to face him, a frown of distrust clouding her features. Edward smiled as the expression in her dark eyes, at first wary and fearful, turned to frozen astonishment as she watched him drop to one knee and take her small hand in his own.

‘Selina Agres. Will you marry me?’