“Thank you.” She returned to the chair, tried to think of what else she might say to reassure them, was grateful when the butler strode in, carrying a package wrapped in brown paper.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, Your Grace, but this was just delivered for Lady Alice.”

“For me?” The look of surprise on Alice’s face was a bit comical, but then she had no swain to send her little gifts and it was unusual for something to be delivered this time of night. She took the proffered package, and the butler made his exit.

“What is it?” Connie asked.

“Well, I don’t know.” Alice glanced over at Selena. “Shall I open it?”

“Yes, of course.”

After pulling the string, granting the bow its freedom, she folded back the paper and gasped as a book came into view. A note rested on top. She smiled. “It’s from Mr. Aiden Trewlove.”

“What does it say?” Connie asked impatiently.

Alice handed it to Selena.

The best escapes are found within the pages of a book. Enjoy your journey Through the Looking-Glass.

—Your ever-faithful servant, Aiden Trewlove

“He caught me reading it at the shop,” Alice confessed. “But it wouldn’t be appropriate for me to keep it, would it?”

Oh, Alice had certainly passed the test, and for some unaccountable reason his gifting her with the book made Selena’s eyes burn. “Under the circumstances, I think it’s entirely appropriate. Write a letter to thank him and give it to me before you retire. I’ll post it tomorrow on my way to Sheffield Hall.”

“He might be a commoner,” Alice said, “but I don’t believe he is common.”

No, Selena thought, he wasn’t common at all.

Chapter 18

The following dawn, Selena wasn’t at all surprised to see Aiden standing by a lamppost outside his club. The coach had barely slowed when he opened the door, hopped in, and pounded the ceiling before settling in across from her. The vehicle carried on, the horses barely breaking stride.

And the confines suddenly seemed far too small. His presence enveloped the space, his scent of bay rum wafted around her. She had a strong urge to invite him to sit beside her, to have the warmth of his body seep into her on this chilly morning. Although to be honest, she wouldn’t object to his warmth seeping into her on a sultry afternoon. It was somewhat torturous to have him so near and yet so far away. She finally found the wherewithal to greet him properly. “Good morning.”

“You smell differently in the morning.”

He couldn’t have unsettled her more if he’d leaned in and kissed her. Words failed her.

“You carry the scent of sleep.” His voice was low, raw, as though he were imagining awakening with her in his arms and sniffing every inch of her skin.