Page 34 of The Duke's Jilted Bride

Felix’s townhouse reflected its owner’s personality, elegant but with unexpected touches of whimsy. A footman took their hats and coats, and Felix led the way to his study.

“Now,” he said, pouring amber liquid into two crystal glasses, “tell me what’s troubling you. And don’t spare the details. I want to know everything.”

Rowan accepted the brandy but remained standing, too restless to sit.

The events of the past year pressed against him: the abduction, the months at sea, the hunt for whoever had arranged it all. And now Selina, complicating matters with her beauty and strength and the way her lips had yielded beneath his.

Felix waited, unusually patient. When Rowan finally spoke, the words felt torn from his throat.

“I was kidnapped on my wedding day. Press-ganged into the Royal Navy.”

Felix’s glass froze halfway to his lips. “Good God.”

The story poured out in brief, clipped sentences. Waking aboard the Intrepid with a false name. The year of brutal service nearthe Spanish coast. His eventual escape and return to England. The ongoing search for whoever orchestrated his abduction.

Felix listened without interruption, his expression growing darker with each revelation.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” he asked when Rowan finished.

“I needed to understand what happened before involving others.”

“Others?” Felix shook his head. “I’m not ‘others,’ Rowan. I’m your oldest friend.”

“Which is precisely why I’m telling you now.” Rowan drained his glass. “I need your help.”

Felix set down his untouched brandy and stood. “You have it. Whatever you need.”

For the first time in months, Rowan felt the weight on his shoulders lighten fractionally. He wasn’t alone in this hunt anymore.

“Whoever did this, they had resources and connections,” he said. “They knew my movements, had access to naval officers willing to commit crimes, and harbored enough hatred to destroy my life.”

“Or enough fear,” Felix suggested. “What do you know that someone might want to suppress?”

“Nothing. At least, nothing I’m aware of,” Rowan moved to the window, looking out at the London street. “But my father might have. His death, my abduction…they must be connected.”

“Then we’ll find the connection.” Felix’s voice was firm with conviction. “And when we do, they’ll answer for what they’ve done.”

Rowan turned from the window. “Thank you.”

Felix smiled, though his eyes remained serious. “That’s what friends are for.” He lifted his glass. “Now, while we’re being honest with each other, perhaps you’d care to tell me what’s happening between you and your duchess?”

Rowan’s expression closed. “Nothing is happening.”

“Nothing? Then you should’ve seen me last night. A few sessions of ‘nothing’ with Lady Umberton. She’s got a real talent for it.”

Rowan glared at the Marquess, his voice a low growl. “Keep talking like that, Felix, and I’ll knock that smirk off your face. You won’t be able to speak for a week.”

Felix chuckled, raising an eyebrow. “Oh no, my face and my wit? Please, Rowan, I couldn’t possibly lose those. What would youdo without my charm to brighten your miserable existence? And it’d disappoint half the widows in Mayfair, you know.”

Rowan groaned, “Are you done with your prattling?”

“Are you going to tell me anything about your kiss with your wife?”

“A momentary lapse in judgment,” Rowan said stiffly. “It won’t happen again.”

Felix studied him for a long moment. “You’re lying to yourself, my friend.”

Rowan didn’t argue. The complicated feelings Selina stirred in him—desire, protectiveness, guilt—would remain his secret for now.

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