Page 2 of His Ruined Duchess

“Mother, his lack of care for you and the girls, the way he has been so flippant about his duties, and the utter lack of concern he has over what had been established under Easton show this new Duke’s character. He is not a man to hold in high regard. Clearly. Why are you going out of your way to impress him?”

Stepping around her, Selina watched her mother speed down the hall toward the study. The staff practically ran to keep up with her, and Selina herself was forced to weave in and out of the bodies to keep her mother in eyesight. As they all pushed into the next room, Bridget complained about the insignificant amount of dust on the shelves, which was practically nonexistent, and the way the chandelier in the hall hung slightly crooked to her eyes.

It was going to take an entire bottle of wine to ease Selina’s nerves at this rate.

“Mother! You can’t even be bothered to answer me?” She huffed, the woman not even facing her, but the collection of Selina’s late husband’s books.

“These are so terribly dull in color. Could we perhaps move these tomes to a more suitable space and replace them with lighter ones? They all clog up the room with darkness and drab tones.”

When she reached out for one, Selina was quick to yank her mother’s hand away from the books, putting herself between the shelves and the woman who sought to disrupt them.

“You will not touch these. They were Easton’s prized possessions. I will not allow them to be moved.”

Her mother rolled her eyes, turning on her heel to wreak havoc in some other location. Selina rushed up to her, taking her mother’s arm so that she might actually listen to her.

“Mother, please. The man is demanding that I wed. Does that not concern you in the slightest? I have expressed that I do not wish to marry again.”

“Selina,” her mother slipped past her, carrying on with this endless assessment of the estate, which was entirely unnecessary, “whether you like it or not, and trust me, I am aware that you don’t, the new Duke of Soulden, the man coming to see us who will arrive any moment, is the head of this household now.”

She froze, the words both unexpected and unsurprising. Bridget Figgins, Dowager Viscountess of Hickling, was a practical woman and not romantic or fanciful in the least. It was a wonder that Lydia was related to her at all, and even Myra was not as clinically single-minded. Selina’s stomach churned, the pressure of her overly tight corset squeezing down on her all the more.

“The man may have been from the lower middle class. He may be a self-made man of business, not accustomed to a title orwhat it is to be an aristocrat by birth. However, he has achieved success, rising from humble beginnings to become one of the wealthiest men in England. If you wish to continue living the life you are used to…”

Selina felt her skin prickle under her mother’s stare, the way her similar brown eyes blazed with purpose. She was familiar with how stubborn her mother could be, how concerned with perfection and duty. Right now, it felt as if those concerns were multiplied to an incredible magnitude.

“…the life that affords you the opportunity to live with a certain level of freedom not usually seen among the ton, one that also benefits your sisters, particularly when it comes to choosing matches, and me, then you will need to learn to get along with the man. Dare I say,impresshim.”

“Mother, I?—”

“Selina, sacrifices are necessary in every part of life, and this time is no different. It will be expected of you to secure our futures.”

Selina scoffed, pulling herself back from her mother as the words slapped her harder than a hand.

“Surely, you are jesting with me.” Selina couldn’t contain the venom in her voice. “Surely, you are not implying that I, the daughter who said nothing about being married off when she had only just become a woman, do not know what it is to makesacrifices. I have done it freely, and frankly, I have done it enough.”

Stepping forward, her mother reached for Selina’s cheek, brushing her thumb across her flesh in slow, gentle strokes. The elder Dowager sighed, shaking her head as an expression of recognition and sorrow passed over her older features.

But as quickly as it was there, Selina watched it die on her mother’s face as she clicked her tongue and shook her head. With a firm pat on her cheek, the woman straightened herself and dropped her chin to stare harshly into Selina’s eyes.

“If you had had an heir, this would not be a problem. We’ll never know if it was your husband’s advanced years that prevented it, but a fact is a fact. And alas, this is where we have found ourselves, and we must make the best of it.”

Nausea struck Selina like a lightning strike. She fought to school her expression, not hinting at the deep, painful secret that Selina still carried to this day.

He never touched me once, Mother. Not a single time. I willneverknow if I could have conceived for him, and webothwanted it that way.

“And ensure you are presentable, hmm?” Her mother straightened a bow on Selina’s dress, twisting the fabric into the position she demanded from it though Selina could see it beginning to angle itself again. “Weallneed to make the best possible impression.”

“Don’t blame her mother,” Lydia cut in. “She hasn’t had to worry over being presentable since her husband died.”

Fury roared up Selina’s throat, choking her, and she shot a glare back at her younger sister. Keeping the vitriol that she wished to unleash upon Lydia was like fighting back the need to breathe. As it was, the compression of her corset still dug into her, and Selina again tried to relieve some of the ache in her ribs by adjusting herself within the sheath of fabric.

“At least we get to attend a ball,” Lydia added. “It has been so long since we’ve been able to enjoy ourselves properly. I am so excited about purchasing a new dress!”

Selina would not roll her eyes at that. She vaguely remembered the joy of her youth before responsibility pressed down on her like a lead weight. Still, Lydia was working her last nerve, and Selina was becoming more and more desperate for some time alone to relax. Moreover, she needed to keep up a level of pretense with even her family. Her sisters and mother didn’t know how much she simply tolerated shopping and balls. To them, she was as excited about them as Lydia.

But the need to speak up wouldn’t be quelled. “Sister, it is a ball in the new Duke’s honor. It is not a celebration but a means to butter up the man. That’s hardly the occasion for such exuberance.”

“That isyouropinion, Selina.” Lydia eyed her, pulling Myra closer by looping her arm through the youngest’s and yanking her to her side. “We are looking forward to it.”

---