Page 15 of The Duke's Jilted Bride

Last night, she had gathered every ounce of courage to fulfill her marital duty. She had steeled herself for what must come, only to be sent away like an unwanted child.

The humiliation still burned.

Clearly, her new husband found her repulsive. Or perhaps he had a mistress tucked away in London who satisfied his needs, making Selina nothing more than a convenient brood mare to be used when an heir was required.

The thought brought unexpected tears to her eyes. She blinked them away furiously. She would not waste tears on a man who had forced her into marriage only to reject her.

“More coffee, Your Grace?” The footman approached, silver pot in hand.

Selina straightened her spine. “No, thank you. I believe I shall speak with Mrs. Wilson about the household accounts.”

If the Duke did not want her company, she would make herself useful elsewhere. She was Duchess of Aldermere now, whether or not he desired her, and there were duties to attend to.

Mrs. Wilson looked surprised, but pleased, to find Selina at the housekeeper’s door an hour later.

“Your Grace! I did not expect you so soon.” She hastily cleared a stack of ledgers from a chair. “Please, sit down.”

Selina smiled, taking the offered seat. “I thought we might review the household arrangements together. I would like to understand how Aldermere is managed.”

“Of course, Your Grace.” Mrs. Wilson beamed, clearly delighted by this show of interest. “Where would you like to begin?”

The morning passed swiftly as Selina immersed herself in the intricacies of running a ducal estate.

Mrs. Wilson proved an excellent teacher, explaining everything from the ordering system for household supplies to the rotation of seasonal staff.

“I see you’re ordering candles from London,” Selina noted, examining a ledger. “The chandler in the village produces excellent beeswax tapers at half the price. My first husband’s estate used them exclusively.”

Mrs. Wilson looked surprised. “I did not know, Your Grace. We’ve always ordered from Fortnum’s, as the late Duchess preferred their product.”

“Perhaps we could try the local option,” Selina suggested. “It would support the village economy and reduce our expenses.”

“An excellent idea, Your Grace.” Mrs. Wilson scribbled a note. “The Duke has always emphasized prudent management, but I confess some of our arrangements are based more on tradition than efficiency.”

Selina smiled. “Then let us see where improvements might be made without sacrificing quality.”

By luncheon, they had identified several areas for immediate change: consolidating orders to reduce delivery fees, adjusting the laundry schedule to conserve coal, and reassigning two underutilized maids to areas of greater need.

“You have quite a talent for household management, Your Grace,” Mrs. Wilson said admiringly as they concluded their session. “His Grace will be most impressed.”

Selina doubted the Duke would notice or care, but she kept the thought to herself.

“Thank you, Mrs. Wilson. I’ve enjoyed our morning together.”

After a light luncheon taken in the morning room, Selina explored the house further.

Aldermere Hall was magnificent, its elegant proportions and refined decoration speaking of generations of wealth and taste.She wandered through drawing rooms and galleries, studying portraits of stern-faced ancestors.

She paused before a painting of a beautiful woman with ash-brown hair and serious gray eyes—the Duke’s mother, presumably. The resemblance was unmistakable: the mouth’s shape, the proud tilt of the head. But where the Duke’s expression was guarded, almost hostile, his mother’s eyes held a gentle wisdom.

“Your Grace?”

Selina turned to find Simmons, the butler, standing in the doorway.

“Forgive the interruption, but a package has arrived for you from the Duchess of Emberford.”

Her spirits lifted at the mention of her friend Georgiana. “How wonderful. Where is it?”

“In the blue drawing room, Your Grace. I took the liberty of having tea prepared as well.”

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