Page 48 of The Duke's Jilted Bride

“The distinction is lost on me,” Felix replied cheerfully. “In any case, I predict a marked improvement in the gossip columns tomorrow. ‘Duke Defends Duchess From Vicious Cat.’ Delicious scandal, with you two as the sympathetic figures.”

“Your talent for manipulation is truly remarkable,” Rowan said dryly. “May we return home now? I’ve had quite enough of public performance for one day.”

As they walked back toward their carriage, Selina studied her husband’s profile. The stern line of his jaw, the subtle furrow between his brows, the way his hair curled slightly at his collar.

She had married him for security, expecting nothing more than a businesslike arrangement. Yet today, he had defended her with genuine anger, looked at her with something close to admiration during their discussion of finance, and laughed at Felix’s story of his childhood mishap.

Small glimpses of the man beneath the ducal facade. A man who might, perhaps, be worth knowing beyond the confines of their practical partnership.

The thought was as unsettling as it was intriguing.

CHAPTER 16

“Lord Atwood will see you now, Your Grace,” the butler announced, his tone carefully neutral.

Rowan nodded, rising from the stiff-backed chair where he had waited these past fifteen minutes. The delay was deliberate, he suspected—a small reminder that even a duke had to wait at Lord Atwood’s convenience.

He followed the butler through a corridor lined with ancestral portraits, noting the subtle signs of faded grandeur. The gilt frames needed polishing, and the carpet showed wear in high-traffic areas. House Atwood maintained appearances, but clearly their finances required careful management.

The study door opened to reveal a lean, austere man with silver-streaked hair. Lord Atwood stood behind his desk, his surprise evident despite his disciplined features.

“Your Grace. This is unexpected.”

“Lord Atwood. Thank you for receiving me without prior notice.” Rowan inclined his head slightly.

“How could I refuse the Duke of Aldermere?” A hint of irony colored his voice. “Please, be seated.”

Rowan settled into the offered chair, taking measure of his father’s old rival. Atwood’s study reflected its owner—orderly, traditional, without ostentation. No visible vices like the brandies that had crowded his father’s desk.

“May I offer you refreshment?” Atwood asked, resuming his seat.

“No, thank you. This won’t take long.” Rowan reached inside his coat and withdrew a flat package wrapped in brown paper and tied with a string. He placed it on the desk between them. “I’ve come to settle an old account.”

Atwood eyed the package with undisguised curiosity. “An account?”

“My father’s debt to you.”

With deliberate movements, Rowan untied the string and folded back the paper, revealing a substantial stack of banknotes. Atwood’s eyes widened fractionally.

“I don’t understand,” he said carefully.

“I believe my father borrowed this sum from you twelve years ago, regarding a land dispute in Northumberland.” Rowan kept his voice neutral, watching for any reaction. “I am here to repay it, with interest.”

Atwood’s fingers touched the edge of the stack, as if confirming its reality. “This is unexpected.”

“I could have handled it through my accountant,” Rowan said, “but I thought it best to settle the matter in person. To put the rivalry between our families to rest.”

Something like respect flickered in Atwood’s eyes. “Most honorable of you, Your Grace.”

Rowan inclined his head, noting how Atwood’s reserve had softened at the sight of the money. Greed, but not rage. Not the burning resentment that might drive a man to arrange a duke’s abduction.

“May I offer my belated condolences for your father’s passing,” Atwood said, pulling the stack toward him with practiced casualness. “A tragic end to a complex life.”

“Thank you,” Rowan replied automatically. “Three years now.”

“And for your own troubles.” Atwood’s gaze sharpened. “Your disappearance caused quite a stir. I had resigned myself to never seeing this debt repaid.”

The statement confirmed what Rowan had suspected. Atwood was pleased by the unexpected windfall but showed no signs of knowing more about Rowan’s absence than general gossip provided.

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