The look the woman sent her husband confused Selena, because it was not one of self-assurance. Was she newly married then and not comfortable in her position? Selena narrowed her eyes. Perhaps this house was run by a despot whose own wife cowered before him, which would be very like this gentleman if his initial greeting were any indication. But she could not give up this chance to appeal to another woman. Her whole safety depended on it.

“I assure you, I shall not trouble you for long,” Selena said, ignoring the gentleman. “If word can be sent to Harrowden, I am quite certain they will send someone immediately to fetch me.”

“This is rich,” the gentleman murmured, as he looked at his wife. He took a step back and folded his arms, a mocking smile on his face. Without sparing him a glance, Selena turned the full force of her pleading gaze on the one who could help her.

“I…I…” the woman hemmed.

“Go on,” the gentleman urged his wife, waiting for her to speak. He almost seemed to take pleasure in her discomfiture. Had Selena stumbled on a madhouse?

With a timid glance at her husband, the young woman said, “I am sure a supper might be prepared for you in the kitchen—is that not so?”

A voice came from beyond the hosts. “Sir, the supper has been brought up and is waiting for you in the dining room.”

His gaze fixed on Selena, the gentleman called over his shoulder. “Set another plate.”

So he was intending to let her in. Good. She could no longer feel her toes, and even her warm cloak was beginning to be ineffective against the biting cold. He opened the door wider, and she took a step in.

“Thank you, sir.” She turned to his wife and graced her with a small curtsy. “And you, ma’am.”

“Miss Woodsley is not, in fact, my wife,” the gentleman said, as he led the way to the dining room.

He did not look back as he said it, and Selena was left to decipher its meaning. The implication came upon her at once, and she felt a flush mount to her cheeks. She had not stumbled into a madhouse—no! She had stumbled into a house of vice. No wonder that poor girl looked so uncomfortable. Would he expect something of Selena? Was she to be another one of his conquests? Even the snow was preferable to that.

She followed behind numbly. At long last her courage deserted her, and Selena felt tears prick at the back of her eyelids.

Her host stopped before a dark wooden door and opened it, ushering the young lady in before him. When Selena came to the door, he glanced at her face and stayed her with a light pressure on her shoulder. She trembled from cold and fear, unable to meet his gaze, but he stepped closer until she was forced to look up. He seemed to be studying her, searching for something in her eyes, and Selena’s heart beat strangely.