The Marriage Rescue. Joanna Johnson

would have to stay, incriminating embroidered initials and all, and Selina could only pray nobody would find it.

      ‘You’re still awake, child.’

      Selina jumped, and sat up so quickly she almost hit her head on the low shelf above her bunk. ‘I thought you were sleeping, Grandmother.’

      ‘So I was—until you decided the early hours would be a good time to begin talking to yourself. A sign of madness, as well you know.’

      ‘Sorry. I didn’t realise I’d spoken aloud.’

      ‘You didn’t.’ Zillah rose up in her bunk, arthritic bones creaking. ‘You’ve been tossing and turning all night; any fool could tell you have something on your mind. I’d wager it’s the reason why you rode back into camp three days ago as if the devil himself was after you.’

      ‘It’s nothing, Grandmother. Go back to sleep.’

      ‘I will not. Make a cup of tea, girl, and tell me what ails you.’

      Selina groaned inwardly. There really was no stopping Zillah once she got the bit between her teeth. A lifetime on the road—a hard path for any woman—had instilled in her an almost legendary resolve. There was no room for weakness in a vardo. At past eighty years old, with silver hair and a face lined with the countless creases of age, Zillah had a mind that was still sharp as a knife, and she was revered among the Roma for her experience and wisdom.

      Of course she’d noticed Selina’s absence from camp, and how distracted she had been for the past few days—how could Selina have expected anything less?

      She swung her legs down from her bunk and shuffled, still cocooned in blankets, the few steps towards the stove. She could have made a fire in her sleep by now, she was sure, and it wasn’t long before their copper kettle was whistling shrilly. Two doses of strong, sweet tea were poured into china cups, and she conveyed them back to where her grandmother sat, swathed in a thick woollen shawl and regarding her expectantly.

      ‘Well?’

      ‘Well, what, Grandmother?’ Selina hopped up into her bunk, cup clutched to her chest.

      ‘I would like to know what it is that bothers you. Start from the beginning, and don’t leave anything out.’

      ‘I don’t know what you want me to say.’ Selina glanced at Zillah from beneath her lashes. Even in the darkness she could see her grandmother’s eyes were fixed on her, gleaming bright as a pair of new pins. ‘There isn’t anything I can think of.’

      Edward’s face rose up before her mind’s eye before she could stop it, his hazel gaze locked onto hers, and she frowned down into her teacup. How was it that the only man ever to make her blush was a gentleman, and a Fulbrooke at that? She had every reason to loathe his family, and yet the pull of Edward’s powerful appeal was impossible for her to ignore.

      No Roma man had ever tempted her so much, that was for sure. Although plenty had vied for the hand of Tomas Agres’s pretty daughter, Selina had never felt more than a passing flicker of interest in any of them beyond a stolen kiss or two.

      The only one who had ever made her think twice was a handsome youth named Sampson, and even his charms had quickly vanished when she’d overheard him boast of his confidence in winning her without even needing to try. Since her swift and loud rejection of him nobody else had dared approach her, for which Selina felt nothing but relief.

      The only man whose good opinion she needed to consider was Papa, and that had suited her just fine—until Edward Fulbrooke had come striding back into her life, his handsome face making her question every rational thought she’d ever had.

      ‘Are you absolutely sure?’

      ‘Yes.’

      ‘You lie,’ stated the old woman flatly. ‘Do you think I’m blind? That I’ve finally lost my aged mind after all these years?’

      ‘Of course not!’

      ‘Then don’t play games with me, girl. I can read you like a book.’

      Selina sighed, shoulders slumping in resignation. Perhaps it wouldn’t be such a terrible idea to talk things over, she mused. There had never been any secrets between the two of them; living in such close quarters didn’t really leave much room for intrigue. Besides, she had too much respect for Zillah to continue with such an unconvincing lie.

      Edward’s image surfaced once again, all disarming smile and broad shoulders, and she forced it back roughly. It was definitely because she was overtired. She wouldn’t waste a single, solitary second thinking about him or the musculature hidden beneath his coat under usual circumstances. The distress of that day must have disturbed her more than she’d realised, and now her mind was playing tricks on her. Perhaps the benefit of her grandmother’s wisdom would help her regain her mental equilibrium. She just wouldn’t tell her every detail.

      ‘Very well.’ Selina took a sip of tea and braced herself for the inevitable. She had no doubt it would not be pleasant. ‘There was an incident while I was scouting for food.’

      ‘What kind of incident, child?’

      ‘I was set upon by two men. They chased me for a few miles, then I managed to climb a tree and hide until they left.’

      ‘Did they hurt you?’ Zillah’s voice was soft in the darkness—ominously so.

      ‘No. No doubt they would have done, had they caught me, but another man came and threw them off the scent. I suppose it’s to him I owe my escape.’ She hadn’t thought of it that way before, she had to confess, and, looking at events in such a light, didn’t it make her earlier behaviour towards Edward seem a little ungrateful?

      Not to mention rude, she chided herself. You didn’t do much to show him Roma aren’t really insolent and ill-mannered.

      But, no. One good act could never hope to negate generations of malice. Even if Edward had surprised her that day, there was nothing to say he wouldn’t revert to his class type on any other. Besides, she thought grimly, if he’d known where they were camping would he have acted entirely less chivalrously?

      ‘I see. And this heroic figure of a man—what of him?’

      ‘What do you mean?’

      ‘I mean what of him, Lina? Why did he intervene? What manner of person was he? Roma?’

      ‘No, Grandmother.’ Selina’s mouth twitched at the thought as a sudden recollection of Edward’s refined features flitted through her mind, his lips curved yet again into a distressingly attractive smile. ‘Most definitely not Roma.’

      Zillah’s eyes narrowed. ‘Come along, Selina. At my age I don’t have time for guessing games. What is it you think you cannot tell me?’

      Selina took a deep breath.

      ‘He was gentry.’

      There was silence.

      ‘Grandmother...?’

      ‘Speak on, girl.’

      The mound of crochet blankets shifted as Zillah turned to face her directly with a close scrutiny Selina could have done without.

      ‘What strange circumstances led such a high and mighty gentleman to concern himself with the likes of you?’

      ‘I found his sister lost in the woods. I was trying to return her to where she came from and I was seen. The men who saw me assumed I was trying to steal her—and they weren’t pleased.’ Selina shivered suddenly and drew her blankets round her more tightly. What exactly would they have done if they’d caught her? The endless possibilities made her feel sick. ‘The gentleman saw where I was hiding but sent the men away before they realised. He said his sister had told him what happened, and if I ever needed help I was to call on him.’

      Zillah gave a short caw of laughter. ‘Call on him? What does he think we would ever need him