Page 37 of The Duke's Jilted Bride

“Mother insisted I order new waistcoats for the season.” Matthew tugged self-consciously at the forest green fabric. “Too ostentatious, I fear.”

“Not at all. The color suits you.”

Agnes stepped discreetly away to signal a hackney, leaving them in relative privacy on the crowded sidewalk.

“I never properly apologized,” Matthew said, lowering his voice. “For the way things ended. I fear… I fear that I acted quite cowardly.”

Selina felt a rush of appreciation for his honesty. “There is no need for apologies. Everything worked out as it was meant to.”

“You’re very generous.” His expression brightened. “Are you and the Duke attending the Rutherford ball next week? I hear it’s to be the event of the season.”

Before Selina could answer, a sharp voice cut through their conversation.

“Matthew! There you are.” Lady Penderwick appeared at her son’s elbow, her critical gaze sliding over Selina with barely concealed distaste. “We have an appointment with the tailor in fifteen minutes.”

“Mother, you remember the Duchess of Aldermere,” Matthew said, gesturing toward Selina.

Lady Penderwick offered the barest nod. “Indeed. Your Grace.”

“Lady Penderwick,” Selina replied with equal coolness. “How lovely to see you again.”

“Matthew, we must go.” Lady Penderwick took her son’s arm with unmistakable possessiveness. “Lord Harlow is expecting us, and it would be most improper to keep him waiting.”

Matthew hesitated, clearly embarrassed by his mother’s behavior. “Of course. Your Grace, it was a pleasure.”

“Likewise, Lord Penderwick.” Selina maintained her composure as Lady Penderwick practically dragged her son away, though she noted with some satisfaction that Matthew glanced back with an apologetic smile.

Agnes returned to her side. “The carriage will be here momentarily, Your Grace.”

“Thank you, Agnes.”

As they waited, Selina reflected on the encounter. Although there was no lingering affection for Matthew, their brief exchange had reminded her of what respectful interaction felt like.

How long had it been since anyone had looked at her without calculation or judgment?

The ducal carriage arrived, and they settled inside for the quick journey home.

Selina gazed out the window at the fashionable shops and elegant townhouses, wondering what Rowan was doing at that moment.

The memory of their kiss at the opera floated unbidden into her mind, bringing with it a confused tangle of emotions. Anger at his subsequent coldness. Embarrassment at her own eager response.

And beneath it all, a traitorous flicker of desire.

She pushed the thoughts away as the carriage turned onto their street.

CHAPTER 13

“Another brandy, Your Grace?” Felix’s butler asked, holding the crystal decanter aloft.

“Yes.” Rowan sat rigidly in the leather armchair, his fingers white against the polished wood of the armrests. “Leave the decanter.”

The butler poured two generous measures, bowed, and departed, closing the study door with practiced discretion.

Silence fell between the two men, broken only by the faint ticking of a clock on the mantelpiece and the occasional pop from the fireplace.

“I need details, Rowan,” Felix said, leaning forward intently. “If I’m to help investigate your abduction, I must know everything. Names, places, anything that might lead us to whoever orchestrated this.”

Rowan took a long swallow of brandy, letting it burn a path down his throat. Even now, weeks after his return, speaking of his time aboard the Intrepid filled him with a burning mixture of rage and shame.

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