Rebecca scoffed, her face flushed with derision. “How can you help me? You’re a governess. In the horridest dress. You can have nothing to teach me.”

Selena breathed in through her nostrils, calling upon all her training to answer in a manner becoming of a lady. “Perhaps. But as your governess, I will give you advice on making a good match, as that seems to be your objective. I can teach you to go about it in a suitable way, and one that will give you no cause to blush for your actions. And I will do what I can to help you find a match that pleases you.” Selena promised herself that she would either reform Miss Woodsley’s character or she would put a spoke in any suit that could harm a guileless young gentleman.

Rebecca smiled—a sincere smile for once. “You are determined to help me make a match? Good! You may arrange for me to meet Sir Lucius again.”

Selena froze at Rebecca’s words, and her breath fled. Surely the sense of dread that crept over her was because Rebecca had clearly learned nothing from her recent misadventure, nor had she taken Selena’s words to heart. Or Selena’s heart sank because Sir Lucius would be troubled to find such a determined flirt settled a hair’s breadth away.

It could not be because Selena wanted Sir Lucius’s attention for herself.

Chapter Nine

“Mrs. Holbeck to see you, sir.” Briggs stepped aside to allow Lucius’s sister to enter the study, as she generally did not wait to be invited in. Lucius dropped his quill on the desk, splattering ink on his correspondence.

“Maria,” he said, frowning at the paper and wondering if he would be obliged to copy the entire thing over. Probably. “You were never one to announce your visits ahead of time, were you?”

“Why should I when I know you will only find some excuse not to be present?” Maria untied the ribbons to her velvet bonnet. “I came to deliver the promised invitation to the Twelfth Night ball.”

“Since when do I need a formal invitation to your ball? And if I did, you could have spared yourself the trouble and sent your man to deliver it.” Resigned, Lucius stood to greet his sister with a kiss on the cheek.

“Come now, that would never do. I would much rather hear an acceptance from your lips than a polite refusal from your pen.” She looked at the departing butler and added, “Will you order some tea? It is not warm outside.”

Lucius signaled for Briggs to have tea sent. “You will have to prepare it, then. I take it sparingly.”

“No, I know what you drink in the afternoons,” she retorted. “But tea is really so much better for you, you know.”

“Undoubtedly. So, will this be a prolonged visit?” Lucius took a seat across from her and affected a long-suffering look that made his sister laugh. Better she think he was only joking, although in truth, he was in no mood for company.