Page 119 of The Duke's Jilted Bride

Despite everything, Rowan laughed. “I promise.”

Grainger approached them, removing his hat. “Your Graces. I’ll need statements from both of you, but that can wait until tomorrow. You’ve been through enough tonight.”

“Thank you, Mr. Grainger,” Selina said. “For everything.”

“Just doing my duty, Your Grace. Though I’m glad this business is finally finished.” He gestured toward the constables examining the scene. “We’ll clean this up. You two go home.”

Robert offered to escort them back to London, but Rowan declined. They had only one horse, and he wanted time alone with Selina. Time to hold her, to convince himself she was truly safe.

As they prepared to leave, Felix rode up beside them.

“For what it’s worth,” he said quietly, “she was mad at the end. Completely mad. Nothing you could have said would have changed what happened.”

Rowan nodded, though guilt still gnawed at him. Annette had wasted her life loving a man who wasn’t worth her devotion. In the end, that obsession had destroyed her.

“Come,” he said to Selina, helping her onto his horse. “Let’s go home.”

Behind them, the constables continued their work by torchlight. The cottage that had sheltered his father’s affair now witnessed its final, violent end.

But that was the past. Selina was warm and alive in his arms, and they were riding toward their future together.

The rest could wait for daylight.

CHAPTER 41

“Do you need anything else tonight, Your Grace?” Agnes asked softly as she placed a tray of tea beside Selina’s chair.

Selina shook her head. “No, thank you. You’ve done more than enough.” She gave her a small smile, trying to reassure her. “Get some rest. It’s been a long day.”

Agnes curtsied and left, the door closing gently behind her.

Selina stayed by the fire, the quiet crackle of flames the only sound in the room. The warmth helped, but only on the surface. The inside of her still felt cold, shaken. She had bathed, dressed in a soft nightgown and a worn wrapper. The salve had soothed the rope burns on her wrists, but not the memories. Annette’s voice, her wild eyes, the sharp fear of not knowing if she would survive. It all lingered.

A knock broke the stillness.

“Come in,” Selina said quietly.

Rowan stepped inside. He looked uncertain, like he wasn’t sure he belonged. He had changed out of his travel clothes, but his hair was still damp and a little wild. He didn’t move right away.

“May I talk to you?”

She nodded toward the chair across from her. “Of course.”

He sat down slowly. They didn’t speak. The fire popped gently between them. Selina watched the flames. She didn’t trust her voice yet.

“Thank you,” she said at last, her voice low. “For finding me. For coming.”

Rowan looked like he might shatter. He gripped his hands together and stared at the floor.

“I almost lost you,” he said, his voice raw. “And it would’ve been my fault.”

She didn’t answer, not yet.

“I thought I was protecting you. That if I kept my distance, you’d be safe. But I was wrong. I see that now.”

He looked at her then, really looked, and what she saw in his eyes nearly undid her.

“I’ve made so many mistakes. I let fear make choices for me. I shut you out when I should have let you in. I didn’t trust you, and I didn’t trust myself.”

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