Page 6 of The Duke's Jilted Bride

Selina sighed. “Those two come as a package. I have no choice.”

“There is always a choice, darling.”

“Not for women with empty purses and fading reputations,” Selina replied bitterly.

Lady Penderwick, having restored order to the room, beckoned to Selina. “Come, Lady Galerton. Let us salvage what we can of this evening.”

The next twenty minutes passed in a blur of introductions and polite conversation. Selina smiled until her cheeks ached. She answered the same questions about her first marriage and expressed appropriate gratitude for Matthew’s proposal.

Finally, Matthew returned without the beagles. He made his way to Selina’s side and took her hand with a nervous smile.

“I apologize for the disruption, my dear,” he whispered. “Mother is quite upset.”

“It’s forgotten,” Selina assured him, though the set of Lady Penderwick’s shoulders suggested otherwise.

Matthew cleared his throat and raised his voice to address the room. “My dear friends and family, I would like to propose a toast to my beautiful bride-to-be.”

The guests turned expectantly, raising their glasses. Selina forced her smile to remain in place.

“To Lady Galerton,” Matthew began. “Whose grace and kindness have captured my heart. I promise to?—”

He stopped as the drawing room filled with gasps, followed by an intense hush.

Selina looked around and saw that the crowd had parted near the entrance of the drawing room.

There, a man stood in the doorway, tall and imposing. His ash-brown hair curled softly at the edges, close to his head, and a neatly trimmed beard shadowed his jaw. His gray eyes swept the room with cool authority before settling on Selina.

“Who is that?” Selina whispered to Isabella.

An older woman nearby murmured, “That’s the Duke of Aldermere!”

“Impossible,” someone else murmured. “He’s been missing for over a year!”

“It’s him, I tell you. Though he looks different. Harder somehow.”

The whispers grew, swirling around the room like leaves in a storm.

“The Duke of Aldermere has returned from the dead.”

“Where has he been all this time?”

“Abandoned his estates and disappeared without a word.”

“They say he fled to avoid gambling debts.”

“No, I heard he fled a vicious duel.”

Selina felt the blood drain from her face as understanding dawned.

Rowan Blackmore. The Duke of Aldermere. The man who had arranged to marry her and then left her standing at the altar a year ago, humiliating her before all of society.

The room tilted. Isabella’s steadying hand on her arm was all that kept her upright.

Matthew looked between Selina and the newcomer. Confusion was evident on his face.

“Your Grace,” he said uncertainly. “This is an unexpected pleasure.”

The duke gave no sign he had heard him. His eyes stayed on Selina, steady and unreadable. He started forward, weaving through the crowd as guests slipped aside to let him pass.

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