Page 49 of The Duke's Jilted Bride

Not the vengeful type who would orchestrate an elaborate scheme for revenge.

“While we’re settling old accounts,” Rowan continued, “I wonder if you’re aware of any other unofficial debts my father might have incurred. Perhaps to individuals he wouldn’t wish publicly known.”

Atwood’s eyebrows rose. “Clearing the family ledger, are you?”

“Something like that.”

The older man leaned back, considering. “Your father was not known for financial prudence, but you likely know that already.”

Rowan nodded, waiting.

“He frequented a certain establishment. The Jackal’s Den. An exclusive gaming hall, not the sort that advertises its presence.” Atwood tapped his fingers on the desk. “I heard rumors he ran up considerable debts there in his final years.”

“And you know this because?”

A thin smile. “London is a small city for men of our class, Your Grace. Word travels.”

“Do you know the proprietor’s name?”

“A man called Loughton, I believe. Though I couldn’t say with certainty.”

Rowan committed the name to memory. “And you think my father might have owed him money?”

“It’s possible.” Atwood shrugged. “Though if they haven’t sought you out by now, perhaps the debt died with him. I would advise against stirring that particular nest of hornets. The Jackal’s clientele values discretion above all else.”

“I appreciate the warning.” Rowan rose. “And thank you for your candor.”

“Not at all.” Atwood stood as well, the banknotes now safely tucked into his desk drawer. “I must say, you’re not much like your father.”

“So I’ve been told.”

“He would not have been so… forthright in his dealings.” Atwood extended his hand. “Perhaps the next generation can move beyond old grievances.”

Rowan accepted the handshake, noting the firm grip. “That was my hope in coming today.”

As he took his leave, Rowan mentally crossed Lord Atwood off his list of suspects. The man had seemed genuinely surprised by his appearance and pleased by the unexpected payment.

The Jackal’s Den, however, presented a new avenue of investigation. An exclusive gaming hell would attract powerful patrons, men with the resources and connections to arrange a duke’s disappearance. His father had evidently been a regular, accumulating debts that might have followed him to the grave—or beyond.

Rowan descended Lord Atwood’s steps to where his carriage waited. His next move was clear, though not without risk. He would visit this Jackal’s Den, seek out the proprietor Loughton, and discover what secrets might be hidden in its shadowy interior.

But first, he would need to inform Felix of his plans. After the confrontation with Lady Penderwick in Hyde Park, his friend had proved himself a valuable ally. And Rowan had a growing suspicion that he would need all the allies he could gather before this hunt was finished.

As his carriage pulled away from Lord Atwood’s residence, Rowan found his thoughts drifting unexpectedly to Selina. She had shown surprising spirit in the park, defending young Penderwick from his mother’s interference.

The flash of animation in her eyes when she argued, the determined set of her chin—these had revealed aspects of her character he hadn’t fully appreciated before.

There was more to his wife than the composed, practical woman he had married for convenience. Perhaps, when this business was concluded, he might take the time to discover exactly who Selina truly was.

The thought was oddly appealing.

CHAPTER 17

“Look who’s come to visit, Your Grace!” Simmons announced with unusual enthusiasm as he opened the drawing room door.

Selina glanced up from her correspondence to see a familiar face framed in the doorway.

“Georgiana!” She sprang to her feet, letters scattering forgotten across the desk. “What a wonderful surprise!”

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