Page 4 of The Duke's Jilted Bride

Rowan pulled free of his grip. “She’s still my betrothed.”

The shock on Felix’s face would have been comical under different circumstances.

“Legal documents were signed,” Rowan continued. “The special license was issued. All that remained was the ceremony itself.”

“Which never happened because you disappeared!”

“Not bychoice,” Rowan’s voice turned icy. “And now I’ve returned to claim what’s mine.”

He strode from the room, his mind made up.

Lady Galerton belonged to him, regardless of what arrangements she might have made in his absence.

And no fresh-faced viscount was going to take her from him.

CHAPTER 2

“Lady Penderwick, might I be of help with the dessert arrangement?” Selina offered, stepping into the dining room where her future mother-in-law was berating a trembling footman.

Lady Penderwick turned, her pinched face barely concealing her displeasure. “Oh, Lady Galerton. How kind of you to offer, but I believe I have the situation well in hand.”

The footman shot Selina a grateful look as Lady Penderwick redirected her attention to the petit fours, which had been arranged in rows rather than the circular pattern she had specified.

“Perhaps another pair of hands would speed things along,” Selina persisted. “The guests are wondering about the delay.”

“I am certain they are,” Lady Penderwick replied, her smile not reaching her eyes. “But you need not concern yourself withhousehold matters just yet. Best save that for after the wedding, when you will have ample opportunity to learn how things areproperlydone in a viscount’s home.”

The dismissal stung, but Selina maintained her composure. “Of course, my lady. I shall return to the guests.”

She retreated from the dining room, smoothing the silk of her peach gown. It was the finest she owned, purchased with the last of her quarterly allowance. The color suited her golden hair and hazel eyes, but she knew many would consider it too plain for an engagement celebration.

The drawing room buzzed with conversation as she reentered. Nearly fifty guests had gathered to celebrate her betrothal to Viscount Penderwick.

Or rather, Selina thought wryly,to witness the spectacle of a poor widowed countess finally securing another match.

“Did you hear she was left with almost nothing when the old earl died?” A woman’s voice floated from behind a potted fern.

“Entirely her own fault,” replied another. “She should have secured her position better. And then that business with Lord Stanton?—”

“Dead before the engagement was even announced! The poor man must have realized what he was getting into and expired from shock.”

“And let’s not forget the Duke of Aldermere,” a third voice added in a theatrical whisper. “Left her standing at the altar without so much as a note.”

“Perhaps he had a premonition about his bride. Fled while he still could.”

Laughter followed, not quite muffled enough.

Selina lifted her chin and moved through the crowd, nodding politely to familiar faces. Six years in London society had taught her to wear dignity like armor.

“Lady Galerton,” a honeyed voice called out. “What a lovely gathering.”

Selina turned to find Viscountess Amesbury and her daughter, Miss Prudence Newton, approaching. Their identical forced smiles showed too many teeth.

“Thank you, Lady Amesbury,” Selina replied. “How kind of you to attend.”

“We wouldn’t miss it,” Prudence said, her eyes sweeping critically over Selina’s gown. “Congratulations are in order, my lady. I suppose one must settle for the hand one is offered, no?”

Lady Amesbury nodded with false sympathy. “Indeed. And the Penderwick family will certainly elevate your standing, given your previous… failures.”

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