Page 27 of The Duke's Jilted Bride

“Your Grace,” she said, closing her book. “We did not expect you back until dinner.”

“My business concluded earlier than expected.” Rowan moved further into the room, standing before the unlit fireplace. “We need to return to London.”

Selina’s brow furrowed. “When?”

“Tomorrow, if possible. The day after, at the latest.”

“May I ask why?”

Rowan hesitated. How much could he safely tell her? He had resolved to keep her ignorant of his investigation, to protect her from potential danger. But after witnessing her strength and resourcefulness at the village, he found himself reconsidering.

“Business matters require my attention in town,” he said finally, choosing a partial truth. “Financial affairs primarily.”

“I see.” Selina’s voice cooled. “And I am to accompany you because…”

“Because you are my wife,” Rowan said simply. “Your place is with me.”

Selina regarded him for a long moment, her hazel eyes searching his face. “I see. I’ll do my duty by you, husband.”

Husband. It made him wince, for she’d not spoken it with affection.

Why would she? Had he given her any prompting to do so? And why on earth had that bothered him?

After their time at Aldermere village, Rowan knew he didn’t deserve her, a kind, intelligent, beautiful woman by his side.

God help him, he wanted her constantly.

It lived in his blood now—that slow, burning hunger. The need to touch her, taste her, feel her body under his hands, and her breath catch in his ear.

She deserved a better man. And Rowan, the wretched excuse for a man he was, had ruined hertwice.

“If there’s nothing else you require of me,” Selina rose, smoothing her skirts. “Then I shall begin preparations for our departure.”

“That is all,” he could only reply.

She moved to the door with quiet dignity. Rowan felt a strange impulse to stop her, to explain everything. The danger he was investigating. The enemies who might use her to get to him.

Instead, he remained silent, watching her go.

The folio in his coat seemed to grow heavier, a physical reminder of the secrets he carried.

Secrets that might put Selina at risk if she knew them. Or so he told himself.

The truth, which he was not yet ready to admit, was far simpler: he feared her judgment should she learn the full, sordid history of his family. The blackmail. The gambling. His father’s mysterious “indiscretions.”

Better to keep her at a distance than risk her disgust.

For she was bound to a deplorable man forever.

CHAPTER 10

“I’ve received word that Mozart’sThe Magic Fluteis being performed at the King’s Theatre tonight,” Selina said, setting aside the morning correspondence that Agnes had brought with her tea. “I would like to attend.”

Rowan looked up from the letter he was reading. “Of course. I’ll accompany you.”

Selina hadn’t expected this response. She had mentioned the opera hoping for a night away from her husband’s distant presence.

“That’s unnecessary,” she replied carefully. “Agnes can be my chaperone.”

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