Page 21 of The Duke's Jilted Bride

“Nothing concrete,” Rowan admitted. “The trail grows colder with each passing day.”

“Then perhaps it’s time to focus on the life before you rather than the year behind,” Felix suggested gently. “You have a wife, an estate, responsibilities. The past can wait.”

“No,” Rowan said firmly. “Not until I find the person responsible.”

Felix studied him for a long moment. “And when you do? What then? Will you finally allow yourself to live again?”

Rowan had no answer. The truth was, he didn’t know who he was anymore—not the carefree youth he’d been before his father’s death, nor the hardened sailor he’d become aboard the Intrepid.

He was caught between worlds, between selves.

And Selina, with her direct gaze and uncomfortable questions, threatened to unravel what little control he had managed to maintain.

“Another whiskey,” he told the serving girl, ignoring Felix’s knowing look. “Make it a double.”

CHAPTER 8

“She’s nothing but a charity case, if you ask me,” a voice drifted from the laundry room as Selina passed in the corridor. “The Duke could’ve had any young lady in London, but he chose her out of pity.”

Selina froze mid-step, her hand gripping the banister.

“Hush, Mary. That’s unkind,” another servant replied. “Her Grace seems a proper lady.”

“A proper lady with no fortune and a tarnished reputation,” the first maid insisted. “The Duke is showing remarkable generosity by taking her in. My cousin works for Lady Jersey, and she says the ton was shocked when he pursued her after abandoning her the first time.”

“Still, to speak of Her Grace this way?—”

“What? It’s just us here.”

Selina backed away quietly, her cheeks burning. She ought to be accustomed to such gossip by now. She had endured worse in London drawing rooms, but hearing it from her own household staff cut deeper than expected.

Charity case. The description echoed in her mind as she climbed the stairs, her steps quickening each moment.

Was that truly how everyone saw her? A pitiful creature rescued by the magnanimous duke?

Without a conscious decision, her feet carried her toward the library. Books had always been her refuge. Perhaps they would bring comfort now.

The Aldermere library was magnificent. It had two stories of floor-to-ceiling shelves filled with leather-bound volumes, comfortable chairs positioned near tall windows, and a massive oak desk dominating one end. The scent of paper and binding glue wrapped around her like an embrace as she entered.

Selina moved through the room, trailing her fingers along spines. Philosophy. History. Classical literature. She paused at the poetry section, finding volumes she recognized. Her hands selected a slim volume of Byron’s works.

Opening it, she was surprised to find a small, neat notation in the margin beside “She Walks in Beauty.” The handwriting was delicate, feminine.

For my beloved Catherine, whose beauty outshines even Byron’s finest verses. You hold my heart eternally, G.

And beneath it, in a different, more delicate hand:

So like your eyes, my dearest G. May our son one day know the joy we’ve found in each other. With all my love, Catherine

Selina stared at the words, her heart squeezing. A glimpse of tenderness between Rowan’s parents that she hadn’t expected, given Rowan’s evident hatred for his father’s memory.

Curious now, she replaced the Byron and continued exploring. In the fiction section, she discovered an illustrated collection of fairy tales. The book fell open naturally to “Beauty and the Beast,” where Selina spotted another marginal note:

For my Rowan—Remember, darling boy, that true beauty lies within. Look past appearances to find the goodness in others, as I see the goodness in you.

All my love, Mother.

The note was dated, showing Rowan would have been about eight years old when his mother wrote it. Selina traced the words gently. The Duchess had clearly adored her son.

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