Page 89 of The Duke's Jilted Bride

Though the tearoom was crowded, their status secured them a small table by the window, overlooking the Thames. As they waited for their tea, Selina noticed that Rowan’s attention never wavered from her. He seemed entirely unaware of the other guests.

“What are you thinking?” she asked, folding her hands on the table.

“That I’ve wasted time,” he said. “Too much of it. Since I came back.”

“We’re here now,” she said carefully, unsure how to respond to his sudden openness. “We can’t change the past.”

His expression darkened slightly. “Some parts of the past don’t stay buried so easily.”

She was about to ask what he meant when their tea arrived, and the moment passed. The conversation turned light again, touching on the exhibition, the fashions on display, and plans for the days ahead.

“I thought we might dine with Felix tomorrow,” Rowan said as they finished their tea. “He’s been asking to know you better.”

“I’d like that,” Selina replied. She had grown fond of Felix’s irreverent charm. “Though I suspect he already knows more about me than I know about him.”

“He’s always been nosy,” Rowan said with a faint smile. “But loyal. That matters more than I used to realize.”

There was a note in his voice she couldn’t quite place. She was about to press him, but again, he moved the conversation on.

“Shall we go into the portrait gallery before we go?”

They spent another hour there, and Selina was surprised to discover that Rowan knew many of the subjects in the paintings. His commentary was full of wry stories and personal observations that made her laugh behind her gloved hand.

By the time they returned to their carriage, the afternoon had faded into early evening. Selina leaned back against the squabs, pleasantly tired from walking.

“Did you enjoy yourself?” Rowan asked as the carriage pulled away.

“Very much. I’m glad we went.”

“I should have taken you sooner.”

She turned to him, catching the regret in his tone. “We can’t go back, Rowan. But we can make better use of the time ahead.”

He reached for her hand, lacing his fingers with hers. “That’s exactly what I intend to do.”

They rode the rest of the way in silence, her hand resting in his. The ease of it surprised her. Just days ago, such a gesture would have seemed impossible.

When they arrived home, Simmons informed them that dinner would be served within the hour. Rowan suggested they might rest before the meal, but Selina found herself too awake to sit still.

“I think I’ll visit the library for a bit,” she said. “There’s a book I’d like to finish.”

“May I join you?” he asked, his voice quieter than usual.

“Of course.”

The library was cool and dim, lit by the last rays of the setting sun. Selina moved between the shelves, searching for the slim volume of Keats she had started earlier in the week.

“Is this what you’re looking for?” Rowan’s voice came from just behind her.

She turned, startled to find him so close. He held the book in his hand, his expression unreadable.

“Yes,” she said, reaching for it.

He pulled it just out of reach, a spark of mischief in his eyes. “Perhaps I should read it to you.”

“If you like.” She stepped in, closing the space between them.

His free hand settled at her waist. “At the moment, I have other plans.”

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