Page 17

“ S o,” Felix said, bursting through the drawing room door with a newspaper clutched in his hand. “The gossip rags are having a field day with your performance at the Marlows’.”

Selina looked up from her embroidery, startled by the intrusion. Rowan, who had been reading by the window, merely sighed.

“Good afternoon to you too, Felix,” he said dryly. “Do come in. Make yourself at home.”

Felix ignored the sarcasm, thrusting the paper at Rowan. “Page three. Society column.”

Rowan scanned the page, his expression darkening. “Absurd speculation.”

“Let me see,” Selina said, setting aside her needlework.

Rowan hesitated, then passed her the paper. The column was bordered with an ornate design, the ink still fresh enough to scent the air.

“ The Duke and Duchess of Aldermere made their first public appearance since their hasty nuptials ,” Selina read aloud.

“ While the couple performed an admirable charade of marital harmony, this correspondent notes that their affection appeared rehearsed rather than genuine. One wonders what urgent circumstance precipitated such a match, particularly given the Duke’s mysterious year-long absence and subsequent determination to claim a bride who had already pledged herself elsewhere . ”

She lowered the paper, her cheeks warm with indignation. “How dare they.”

“Society thrives on scandal,” Felix said, dropping into a chair. “And your situation has provided a feast.”

“Let them talk,” Rowan said, turning back to his book. “It will pass.”

“It will pass faster if you give them something else to talk about.” Felix leaned forward, his expression unusually serious. “You need to be seen together, behaving like an actual married couple rather than polite strangers.”

“And how do you propose we accomplish that?” Selina asked.

Felix grinned. “A promenade through Hyde Park, of course. It’s four o’clock, the fashionable hour. Everyone who matters will be there.”

“Absolutely not,” Rowan said without looking up.

“Come now, what could be more innocent than a husband and wife taking the air with a friend?” Felix rose, plucking Rowan’s book from his hands. “Fresh air, sunshine, strategic public appearances. All vitally important.”

“Felix,” Rowan growled, “return my book.”

“After our walk.” Felix turned to Selina. “Your Grace, perhaps you could fetch your bonnet?”

Selina hesitated, torn between amusement at Felix’s audacity and understanding of Rowan’s reluctance. The idea of another public performance held little appeal after the strain of the Marlows’ garden party.

Yet the gossip column bothered her more than she cared to admit. Not for her own sake—she had weathered social disdain before—but for the implication that she had somehow trapped Rowan into marriage. As if she had wanted this arrangement.

“I think Lord Halston is right,” she said finally. “A casual appearance might help quiet the rumors.”

Rowan’s eyes met hers, surprise clear in their gray depths. After a moment, he sighed in resignation.

“Very well. But you’ll pay for this, Felix.”

“Threats, threats.” Felix waved a dismissive hand. “Hurry along, both of you. The fashionable hour waits for no man, not even a duke.”

Twenty minutes later, their carriage rolled toward Hyde Park. Selina sat beside Rowan, acutely aware of the scant inches separating them. Felix sat opposite, chattering about the latest on-dits with cheerful disregard for Rowan’s thunderous expression.

“Did I ever tell you about Rowan’s first hunting expedition?” Felix asked Selina, his eyes twinkling. “He was twelve, determined to prove himself a man. Insisted on riding the most spirited mount in the stables.”

“Felix,” Rowan warned.

“The horse took one look at a pheasant, reared, and deposited our future duke directly into a mud puddle,” Felix continued, undeterred. “But that wasn’t the best part. When he crawled out, covered head to toe in muck, he discovered he’d landed in a patch of nettles.”

Despite herself, Selina laughed at the image of a young, dignified Rowan flailing in mud and nettles.

“He couldn’t sit comfortably for a week,” Felix finished with relish. “Ate his meals standing up.”

“I was eleven, not twelve,” Rowan corrected, but Selina noticed the corner of his mouth twitching upward.

“The precise age hardly matters,” Felix replied. “The point is the future Duke of Aldermere, pride of Cambridge, terror of the fencing school, once danced around the stables like a demented marionette, trying to remove nettles from places nettles should never be.”

Selina’s laughter bubbled over. She pressed her gloved fingers to her lips, trying to contain it.

Rowan glanced at her, and something in his expression softened. “If we’re sharing embarrassing stories, perhaps I should tell Her Grace about your debut at Almack’s.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” Felix gasped in mock horror.

Their banter continued until the carriage reached Hyde Park. As they stepped down, Felix nudged Rowan meaningfully.

“Must I tell you every time?” he said under his breath, motioning at Rowan’s arm.

Rowan extended his arm without comment. Selina placed her hand upon it, feeling the solid strength beneath his coat sleeve.

The park bustled with fashionable Londoners taking their afternoon exercise. Open carriages paraded along Rotten Row while pedestrians strolled the graveled paths. Everywhere, heads turned as they passed, whispers following in their wake.

“Smile,” Felix murmured. “You look like you’re marching to execution.”

Selina adjusted her expression, though the scrutiny made her skin prickle. Beside her, Rowan remained rigid, acknowledging greetings with curt nods.

“Tell Her Grace about your shipping ventures,” Felix prompted when the silence stretched uncomfortably.

“I doubt the Duchess has any interest in cargo manifests,” Rowan replied.

“On the contrary,” Selina said, seizing the opportunity. “I would like to understand your business interests.”

Rowan looked skeptical but began a stilted explanation of his merchant fleet.

As he spoke, his posture gradually relaxed, his natural intelligence clear in his simple explanations.

Selina asked questions that revealed her own knowledge of finance, gleaned from managing her meager widow’s portion for two years.

“You understand currency exchange rates?” Rowan asked, surprise coloring his voice.

“My situation required financial literacy,” Selina replied with a shrug. “I couldn’t afford to be ignorant of my own affairs.”

Something like respect flickered in Rowan’s eyes before Felix interrupted.

“Hawkins!” he called, waving to a portly gentleman approaching from the opposite direction. “Just the man I wanted to see.”

The gentleman joined them, bowing to Selina with more curiosity than courtesy. “Lord Halston. Your Graces.”

“Your Grace, may I present Mr. Hawkins, a business associate,” Felix said. “Hawkins, Her Grace, the Duchess of Aldermere.”

“A pleasure.” Hawkins turned to the men. “I’ve been meaning to speak with you both about the Liverpool venture. The warehouse lease is nearly completed.”

The conversation quickly turned technical. Selina listened for several minutes before touching Rowan’s arm.

“If you gentlemen will excuse me, I believe I’ll take a turn by the Serpentine.”

Rowan frowned slightly. “Allow me to accompany you.”

“No need to interrupt your business,” she assured him. “I’ll remain in sight.”

Before he could protest, she moved away, following a path that curved toward the lake. The spring afternoon had drawn many visitors to the park’s shores—nursemaids with their charges, young couples strolling arm in arm, ladies pausing to admire the swans.

Selina found a secluded bend in the path that offered a view across the water. She breathed deeply, grateful for a moment’s respite from performance and scrutiny.

Movement on a bench some distance away caught her attention. A young couple sat in conversation, their heads inclined toward each other with the absorption of the new attraction.

A maid stood nearby, maintaining a proper distance while ensuring propriety was observed.

With a start, Selina recognized Matthew. The young woman beside him was pretty, with dark curls peeking from beneath a fashionable bonnet. They looked happy, untroubled, until Selina noticed Lady Penderwick hovering nearby, her lorgnette trained on the couple like a weapon.

Poor Matthew. Even in courtship, he couldn’t escape his mother’s surveillance. The young lady shifted uncomfortably under Lady Penderwick’s scrutiny, her smile dimming.

Before she could reconsider, Selina was moving toward them, summoning her most gracious smile.

“Lady Penderwick! What a delightful surprise.”

The older woman turned, her eyes narrowing. “Your Grace.”

“Such a beautiful afternoon for the park,” Selina continued, undeterred. “I was just admiring the new plantings by the east gate. Have you seen them? The gardeners have created the most charming arrangement.”

Lady Penderwick glanced toward her son, clearly reluctant to move away.

“I would value your opinion on the design,” Selina pressed. “You have such renowned taste in horticulture.”

Vanity won over suspicion. Lady Penderwick allowed herself to be guided a short distance away, though she continued to glance back toward Matthew and his companion.

“What are you playing at?” she hissed once they were out of earshot. “I recognized your interference the moment you appeared.”

“I’m simply making polite conversation,” Selina replied. “Though I wonder why you feel the need to hover so closely over your son. He’s hardly a child.”

“My son’s affairs are none of your concern.” Lady Penderwick’s voice sharpened. “You would do well to keep your distance from my family.”

“Matthew is a grown man,” Selina said quietly. “Capable of managing his own courtship without constant supervision.”

“What would you know of proper courtship?” Lady Penderwick’s eyes glittered with malice. “A woman twice passed over, forced to accept a man who abandoned her once before. I protected my son from such a humiliating match, and I thank Providence daily for it.”

The words stung, but Selina maintained her composure. “Matthew deserves happiness. As does the young lady he’s courting. Your interference does neither any favors.”

“How dare you?” Lady Penderwick sputtered. “A woman of your questionable reputation, lecturing me on proper behavior? One might ask what desperation drove the Duke to marry you so hastily upon his return. Perhaps the rumors of an impending birth are not so far-fetched after all.”

“That’s quite enough, Lady Penderwick.”

Rowan’s voice, cold and authoritative, came from directly behind Selina. She turned to find him standing there, his expression glacial as he regarded Lady Penderwick.

“Your Grace.” Lady Penderwick’s face flushed. “I was merely?—”

“Insulting my wife,” Rowan finished. “In a public park, no less. Such behavior reflects poorly on your breeding.”

Lady Penderwick opened her mouth, then closed it again, her complexion moving from red to purple.

“Your Graces!” Matthew hurried toward them, the young lady and her maid following more slowly. “I thought I recognized you. How delightful to see you both.”

“Lord Penderwick.” Selina smiled, genuinely pleased to see him. “Are you enjoying the afternoon?”

“Very much so,” he replied with a warm smile. “Miss Thornfield and I were just discussing her father’s collection of botanical drawings.” He turned to Rowan. “Your Grace, an honor to see you again.”

Rowan inclined his head stiffly. “Lord Penderwick.”

“Matthew, we’re leaving,” Lady Penderwick announced, seizing her son’s arm. “Miss Thornfield’s mother will be wondering what has delayed her.”

“But we’ve only just—” Matthew began.

“Now, Matthew.”

With an apologetic glance at Miss Thornfield, Matthew allowed himself to be led away, though Selina noted with satisfaction that he managed to bow to the young lady before departing.

“Charming woman,” Felix remarked, joining them as Lady Penderwick marched her son toward their waiting carriage. “Has all the warmth of a January blizzard.”

“She was unforgivably rude,” Rowan said, his voice still edged with anger.

“To be expected,” Selina replied, surprised by his vehemence. “She’s never approved of me.”

“That doesn’t excuse her behavior.”

Felix cleared his throat. “On that note, perhaps we should continue our promenade? Half the ton is watching this little drama unfold.”

Selina glanced around and realized he was right. Nearby strollers had slowed their pace, openly staring at the confrontation.

Rowan offered his arm once more, but this time, the gesture seemed protective. His hand covered hers as she placed it on his sleeve, the light pressure both reassuring and startlingly intimate.

“Thank you,” she said quietly as they walked away.

“For what?”

“Defending me.”

Rowan’s expression was unreadable. “You are my wife. Whatever our private arrangement, in public you are the Duchess of Aldermere and deserve to be treated accordingly.”

The words were formal, correct, yet Selina felt a peculiar disappointment at their coolness. For a moment, his anger seemed personal, as if the insult to her had truly affected him.

“I believe you’ve put on a sufficient show for today,” Felix said as they completed their circuit. “Though I must say, the confrontation with Lady Penderwick was an unexpected bonus. Nothing unites a couple like a common enemy.”

“She’s hardly an enemy,” Selina protested. “Merely an unpleasant acquaintance.”

“The distinction is lost on me,” Felix replied cheerfully. “In any case, I predict a marked improvement in the gossip columns tomorrow. ‘Duke Defends Duchess From Vicious Cat.’ Delicious scandal, with you two as the sympathetic figures.”

“Your talent for manipulation is truly remarkable,” Rowan said dryly. “May we return home now? I’ve had quite enough of public performance for one day.”

As they walked back toward their carriage, Selina studied her husband’s profile. The stern line of his jaw, the subtle furrow between his brows, the way his hair curled slightly at his collar.

She had married him for security, expecting nothing more than a businesslike arrangement. Yet today, he had defended her with genuine anger, looked at her with something close to admiration during their discussion of finance, and laughed at Felix’s story of his childhood mishap.

Small glimpses of the man beneath the ducal facade. A man who might, perhaps, be worth knowing beyond the confines of their practical partnership.

The thought was as unsettling as it was intriguing.