"But Downing will leave,” Sir Lucius said. His tone was severe, and there was that crease between his brows that had become dear. “He will not trouble you here. Woolmer Green is a quiet place, one where you can escape Society's censure."

Selena shook her head. "I cannot escape it anywhere. I thought the same when I went to Bedford, but as soon as news had reached there of my father's demise, the whispering started, and the mockery. The invitations stopped. This was the reason I decided to come here and start fresh, but this time with no expectations of being received anywhere as anything but a companion. Still, it has happened again.”

She picked at her skirt in a nervous gesture until she realized what she was doing and folded one hand over the other. “And it is likely to happen wherever I go."

"If that is so, then why leave?” Sir Lucius insisted. Selena looked up then, examining his face. Why would he care?

“Why not face it here in Woolmer Green, since you must face it at all?" He leaned toward her, and his knee brushed hers in what was probably a careless gesture, but she was so unused to such nearness that she felt as though she would jump out of her skin.

Then the anger came in a rush, and Selena whipped around to meet his gaze. "It is easy for you to say, Sir Lucius. You may go where you please, and nothing even close to vicious rumors need ever trouble you. Nothing disturbs your very orderly existence."

"I…" Sir Lucius did not answer right away and stared at the floor. He drummed his fingers on the armrest, and Selena waited, her nerves taut. At last he put an elbow on his knee and brought his head close to hers, his face inches away, and his eyes boring into hers. “You disturb my very orderly existence.”

Selena thought she would faint from exhaustion—from the well of emotions Sir Lucius had stirred. It was all so fatiguing, and she put her hand to her cheek, creating a barrier of protection. He wore away at her dignity. To turn a blind eye to such heartless behavior as he had shown last night—if she had meant anything at all to him—would mean she was the most spineless of creatures.

He leaned back, which she thought merciful, until he continued his assault. “What I am trying to say in a hopelessly inadequate way is that I do not wish for you to leave. I want you to stay."

Selena could not have been more surprised if Sir Lucius had leaned over and pushed her off her chair. She turned to face him, expecting him to break into laughter or mockery, or to recant what he’d said. He did none of those things. His gaze softened, beseeching, and in it she could see longing, but he did not move closer again. She forgot how to breathe.

“How am I supposed to respond to that?" Selena’s hands were now tightly clenched on her lap, anchoring her, surely, from flying off the chair, powered by such turbulent emotions. After all these years of sinking further and further from Society. After last night…it was too much to hope that he had any proper intentions toward her.