Page 3

“ Y our Grace,” Lord Penderwick stammered, approaching with an extended hand. “A pleasant surprise!”

Rowan didn’t spare the viscount a second look. His gaze stayed on Selina: his betrothed, his almost Duchess.

No—breathtaking. Far lovelier than the matchmaker’s letter had suggested, and the letter had not been ungenerous.

Her golden hair was swept up in a style that revealed the slender line of her neck and the delicate curve of her shoulders. Light caught in the loose tendrils framing her face, turning them to silk. Her gown was modest, yet it hinted at a figure both elegant and arresting.

But it was her face that held him. Her wide hazel eyes, fringed with dark lashes, met his for the briefest moment—and in that instant, the world seemed to still.

Shock. Horror. Fury.

And then she looked away.

“Lady Galerton,” Rowan said, his voice cutting through the hushed whispers of the crowd. “I must speak with you privately.”

Selina lifted her chin. “We have nothing to say to each other, Your Grace.” Her voice was steady but cold. She turned to Lord Penderwick. “Please continue your toast, my lord.”

“I’m afraid I must insist,” Rowan replied, stepping closer. “After all, you are still legally my betrothed.”

A collective gasp rippled through the gathering. Selina’s face paled, then flushed with anger.

“You cannot be serious,” she hissed. “You vanished for an entire year without a word. You have no claim on me.”

“On the contrary,” Rowan said, loud enough for those nearby to hear. “Our marriage contract remains valid. The special license was issued. My solicitor confirms our arrangement stands.”

Lord Penderwick's head whipped back and forth between them, confusion and distress clear on his round face. “M-my lady! What is going on here?”

Before Selina could answer, Lady Penderwick materialized at her son’s side. Her thin fingers gripped his arm like talons.

“End this now, Matthew,” she hissed. “This woman will drag us down into ruin.”

“Mother, please,” Lord Penderwick protested weakly. “There must be an explanation.”

Lady Penderwick’s grip tightened. “Do what you must. End it tonight, before it’s too late. She will ruin our good name.”

Selina stepped forward. “Lady Penderwick, I assure you this is nothing. His Grace is merely confused. Please, let us continue with the celebration.”

Lord Penderwick hesitated, looking between his mother and Selina with the helpless expression of a man caught in a storm without shelter.

“I am not confused, Lady Galerton,” Rowan cut in. “Our betrothal was properly arranged through our solicitors. No cancellation was ever processed.”

The guests had abandoned all pretense of not listening. Their eager faces turned back and forth, following the exchange like spectators at a tennis match.

“My Lord,” Selina pleaded. “Surely, you don’t believe?—”

“Silence, you scheming fortune hunter!” Lady Penderwick hissed, stepping between Selina and her son. “You’ve caused quite enough scandal for one evening.”

Selina glanced at Lord Penderwick, her eyes imploring him to speak on her behalf. He swallowed visibly, his gaze darting between Selina and his mother. For a moment, indecision warred on his face. Then, with a glance at Lady Penderwick’s stern countenance, he seemed to deflate.

With a heavy sigh, Lord Penderwick turned to address the room. “My dear friends,” he announced, his voice wavering. “I apologize, but it seems there are matters that need to be resolved. I think it is best if we conclude our gathering early.”

The room erupted in excited murmurs. Selina stared at Lord Penderwick in disbelief.

“You cannot mean this,” she said, her voice barely audible above the growing noise.

“I’m sorry, Lady Galerton.” Lord Penderwick could not meet her eyes. “But Mother is right. I cannot proceed while there are questions about your… availability.”

“There are no questions ,” she insisted. “His Grace abandoned me at the altar. Whatever arrangement existed between us was nullified by his actions.”

Lady Penderwick stepped forward. “I think it’s best if you leave now, Lady Galerton.”

“But—”

“Selina. Please.” Lord Penderwick finally looked at her, his expression pained but resolute. “It would be easier for everyone.”

Rowan watched the exchange with satisfaction and, unexpectedly, guilt. He had not expected the visceral impact of seeing Selina humiliated. But it was necessary. She belonged with him, not this weak-willed viscount who surrendered at the first sign of difficulty.

Selina straightened her spine, drawing on some inner reserve of dignity that Rowan reluctantly admired.

“Very well,” she said quietly. “Thank you for your hospitality, Lady Penderwick.” She turned to Lord Penderwick. “I wish you well, My Lord.”

Without looking back at Rowan, Selina crossed the room and made for the door, her head held high while whispers and stares chased after her.

The moment he moved to follow her, Rowan found himself surrounded. Society matrons and curious gentlemen closed in, their voices clamoring for answers.

“Your Grace, where have you been all this time?”

“Is it true you fled to the Continent to escape your debts?”

“Did you really flee a duel?”

Rowan did not stop to answer. He pushed through the crowd, focused only on reaching the exit.

He had done what he came to do. He had stopped Lady Galerton’s engagement. But the real fight still lay ahead.

Outside, the cool night air hit him like a slap. He spotted her already halfway down the street, hurrying toward a waiting hackney carriage.

“Lady Galerton!” he called out, lengthening his stride to catch her.

She spun to face him, her eyes bright with fury. “Leave me alone.”

Rowan moved in front of her, cutting off her path to the carriage. “We need to talk.”

“We have nothing to say to each other! You humiliated me once by abandoning me at the altar. Now you have ruined the only chance I had left for a decent life!”

“I saved you from marrying a man too weak to stand up to his own mother,” Rowan said, keeping his voice even.

Selina laughed bitterly. “How generous of you! Perhaps Viscount Penderwick clings to his mother’s skirts, but he is kind. And he was going to meet me at the altar, unlike you.”

The accusation stung more than Rowan had expected. “I couldn’t attend our wedding. The circumstances were beyond my control.”

“How convenient,” Selina said. “And am I to believe that these mysterious circumstances also prevented you from sending word during your entire absence?”

Rowan hesitated. He could not tell her the truth. Not yet. Not until he had dealt with the person responsible for his abduction. Until then, any knowledge would only put her at risk.

“The details are complicated,” he said finally. “But I intend to make things right. I will have a new special license within two days. We can be married immediately.”

“You must be mad if you think I would marry you now.”

“You have little choice,” Rowan pointed out. “Your engagement to Viscount Penderwick is broken. Your reputation, already precarious, will not survive another scandal. No other suitable man will offer for you now.”

Selina’s face crumpled for a moment before her fury returned. “How dare you? You speak as if I am a piece of property to be claimed!”

“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 know nothing about 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.