Page 9 of The Duke's Jilted Bride

“I speak as a man who intends to honor his commitments,” Rowan countered. “Our marriage was arranged because it benefited us both. Those circumstances have not changed.”

She studied him, her gaze searching his face, anger flashing in her eyes. “Why now? Why return after a year and insist on this marriage? You could have simply stayed away,” she demanded, her voice rising. “Do you enjoy making me a spectacle? First abandoned at the altar and now forced into marriage with the very man who ruined me?”

“I have my reasons,” he said. “And you have yours for needing this marriage. Security. Position. Protection from financial ruin.”

Selina flinched as if he had struck her. “You knownothingabout me or my needs.”

“I know enough.” Rowan softened his tone. “I will be a fair husband. You will want for nothing.”

“Except choice,” she whispered. “Except the dignity of not being forced into a marriage with a man who abandoned me once already.”

Guilt pressed against Rowan’s chest, but he pushed it aside. This was not about feelings. It was about duty, about righting a wrong and reclaiming what was his.

“I will not abandon you again,” he said. “The marriage will proceed as originally planned.”

Selina looked past him to the hackney driver, who was watching their exchange with undisguised interest.

“I will be ruined regardless,” she said finally. “No one will have me after tonight’s spectacle.”

“Then accept the solution I offer.”

She was silent for a long moment. Rowan could almost see the calculations behind her eyes. She was weighing her limited options and considering the harsh realities of her position.

Finally, she stepped back, her shoulders slumping in defeat. “Very well, Your Grace. I will marry you. But not because I want to, but because you have left me with no choice.”

Instead of relief or satisfaction, an unexpected twinge of regret pierced his stomach.

“I will call on you tomorrow with the arrangements,” he said.

Selina pushed past him toward the carriage. “Don’t bother, Your Grace. Send word through your solicitor. I have no desire to see you before I must.”

She climbed into the hackney without assistance, slamming the door behind her.

Through the window, Rowan glimpsed her face. Proud, angry, and beneath it all, wounded in ways he had not expected.

As the carriage pulled away, Rowan remained motionless in the street.

He had won, secured what he came for. Yet victory felt hollow.

CHAPTER 4

“Are you ready, My Lady?” Isabella asked as she adjusted the small cluster of white roses pinned to Selina’s pale blue gown.

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” Selina replied as she studied her reflection in the mirror.

She had chosen simplicity for this third trip to the altar. No elaborate white gown this time, no veil, no fanciful dreams of romance. Just a well-made walking dress that was her finest garment. Her hair was arranged in a simple twist and adorned with a pearl comb that had belonged to her mother.

Two days had passed since the disastrous engagement party. Two days of scandal, whispers, and hasty preparations for a wedding she did not want. The special license had arrived yesterday, along with a brief note from the duke’s solicitor outlining the arrangements.

St. George’s Church, Hanover Square. Ten o’clock. No delay.

“You look beautiful,” Isabella said softly. “Despite everything.”

Selina attempted a smile. “At least this time, I’m certain the groom will appear.”

Isabella’s eyes filled with concern. “You don’t have to go through with this. David and I could take you in. You could stay with us until?—”

“Until what?” Selina interrupted. “Until the scandal fades? It never will, Isabella. Not after two broken engagements and a duke’s public claim on me.” She turned from the mirror and clasped her friend’s hands. “I appreciate your kindness more than I can say. But we both know this is my only option now.”

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