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“ T hese roses are lovely,” Selina said, adjusting a bloom in the crystal vase on her dressing table. “Agnes, please thank Mr. Peterson for selecting them from the hothouse.”

“Yes, Your Grace.” Agnes curtseyed before departing to deliver the message to the head gardener.

Selina moved to the open window, breathing in the sweet summer air. Below, gardeners moved quietly among the formal flower beds that framed the townhouse, their motions calm in the morning light.

Beyond the gates, the familiar sounds of London filled the air—carriage wheels on cobblestones, vendors calling out, and the distant chime of church bells.

How dramatically her life had changed in such a short time. From a marriage of cold convenience to… whatever this was. Not merely passion, though there was plenty of that, but a genuine partnership that grew stronger with each passing day.

They had fallen into comfortable routines together. Breakfast in the garden when weather permitted, Rowan reading excerpts from the morning papers while Selina poured their tea.

Their afternoons were often spent apart, each tending to their own responsibilities.

Rowan managed his business affairs while Selina oversaw the household and attended to her charitable work.

They always came together for dinner, then passed their evenings in the library, sometimes reading aloud to one another, sometimes simply enjoying the quiet, their presence enough.

Rowan had spoken more freely about his time at sea. He talked about the night he was taken by the press gang, the brutal shift to life aboard a warship, and the long months that followed.

Each confidence shared had strengthened the bond between them, transforming their hasty union into something neither had expected—something real and precious.

A knock at the door interrupted her reflections. Rowan entered, already dressed for the day in a coat of deep blue that complemented his gray eyes.

“You look pensive this morning,” he observed, crossing to join her at the window.

“Just thinking about how much has changed.” She leaned into him as his arm circled her waist. “If someone had told me a month ago that we would be like this, I would have called them mad.”

His chuckle rumbled against her back. “I would have done worse than that. Probably challenged them to a duel for such wild speculation.”

“And now?”

“Now I would merely agree that they were unusually perceptive.” He pressed a kiss to her temple. “Though I still find it difficult to believe my good fortune.”

“As do I.” Selina turned in his arms, straightening his already-perfect cravat. “You know, I’ve been thinking about you and those months you were at sea.”

His expression grew serious. “What about them?”

“You spoke of the stillness of the ocean on calm nights, the way the stars seemed close enough to touch. There was almost a poetry to it, despite the horror.”

“There were moments,” he admitted. “Brief respites when the beauty of it struck me. And the strange camaraderie that developed between men who had no choice to endure together. We were all broken in our own ways, but we survived.”

“Just as I survived my first marriage,” Selina said.

“Lord Galerton treated me with distant courtesy, but never love. After he died, his family’s legal maneuverings left me with a fraction of what should have been my widow’s portion.

The humiliation of near poverty, the constant worry about how long my meager funds might last… ”

Rowan’s arms tightened around her. “We’ve both endured more than our fair share of hardship, haven’t we?”

“But look where it’s brought us,” she said, smiling up at him. “Our hasty marriage has become something real. Are you certain you need to go to your club this afternoon? The Merediths’ garden party is at three.”

“I’ll meet you there,” he promised. “Felix has some business matter he insists requires my attention, but it shouldn’t take long.”

She tried to hide her disappointment. Their time apart had grown increasingly rare, making even a few hours’ separation feel longer than it should. “Very well. Don’t let him keep you too late.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” Rowan’s smile held a warmth reserved solely for her. “Not when the alternative is watching you charm half of London society.”

The Merediths’ townhouse was known for having one of the largest private gardens in the city.

Manicured lawns, rose-covered arbors, and shaded paths made it the perfect setting for their annual summer gathering.

As Selina’s carriage pulled up, she spotted Rowan waiting near the entrance with Felix beside him.

The sight made her smile, a quiet sense of satisfaction settling over her.

“You see?” he said as he handed her down. “I wouldn’t miss a moment of your company.”

Felix rolled his eyes. “He’s become insufferable, Your Grace. If I’d known marriage would transform him into such a lovesick swain, I might have arranged a match for him years ago.”

“Then I’m grateful for your oversight, Lord Halston,” Selina replied with a smile. “As I might have missed my chance.”

The garden was already filled with fashionable Londoners, ladies in summer finery strolling beneath parasols while gentlemen gathered in conversational groups around tables laden with refreshments.

Selina noted with satisfaction how many heads turned as they entered, the Duke and Duchess of Aldermere having become something of a sensation since their unexpected transformation from scandal to love match.

They spent the first hour circulating among acquaintances, accepting congratulations on their evident happiness with matching composure. Rowan kept Selina’s hand tucked in the crook of his arm, his touch a constant reassurance as they navigated potentially awkward social waters.

“Your Grace.” Lady Winsley’s voice slipped into the lull in conversation like a blade wrapped in silk. “How lovely to see you again. And looking so… content.”

Selina turned to find Annette approaching, dressed in lavender silk that flattered her figure with careful precision. Though she addressed Selina, her eyes never left Rowan, and the intensity in her gaze was unmistakable.

“Lady Winsley,” Selina said with a polite nod. “A perfect afternoon for a garden party, wouldn’t you say?”

“Quite. Almost as enjoyable as watching the ton’s most unlikely love story unfold. The abandoned bride and the prodigal groom, brought together at last. It does have the ring of a fairy tale.”

Rowan’s arm tightened slightly around Selina’s waist.

“I like to think of it as fate setting things right,” he said with calm ease. “I count myself a lucky man.”

“So it appears.” Annette tilted her head, still studying them with that sharp, assessing look. “Of course, fortune has a way of turning. What feels like bliss one day can become bitterness the next.”

“Not for us,” Selina said, more firmly than she’d expected.

“Such conviction.” Annette sipped her champagne, her tone smooth as ever. “I remember feeling just as certain once, about a man who promised me forever. Your father was especially gifted at such things, Rowan. Perhaps it runs in the family.”

The remark landed like a stone. Selina felt Rowan tense beside her, saw the flash of anger in his eyes before he masked it.

“My father made plenty of mistakes,” he said evenly. “Believing people were disposable was one of the worst. I’ve made it a point not to follow his example.” He looked at Selina then, and the warmth in his expression was unmistakable. “My wife deserves better. And she has it.”

“How quaint, to be so devoted,” Annette said, her smile turning brittle. “Let’s hope the novelty lasts.”

“It will,” Rowan replied without hesitation. “In fact, it only grows stronger. As does my understanding of who’s truly worth my time.”

He glanced past her. “I believe the Duke and Duchess of Emberford have just arrived. Shall we go and pay our respects?”

Without waiting for Annette’s reply, he gently guided Selina away, his hand steady and sure at her back.

“I apologize for that woman,” he murmured once they were out of earshot. “She’s become increasingly bitter since my father’s death.”

“No apology needed.” Selina glanced back to where Annette stood watching them, her expression unreadable. “Though I confess there’s something unsettling about her interest in us.”

“She expected to become the next Duchess of Aldermere,” Rowan explained. “My father had hinted at marriage after her period of mourning for her husband ended. When he died instead, she lost both her protector and her ambitions.”

“And now she watches another woman claim the title she coveted,” Selina mused. “No wonder she seems resentful.”

They joined Georgiana and Robert, the encounter with Lady Winsley temporarily forgotten as they enjoyed the rest of the afternoon in more pleasant company.

When rain clouds threatened the festivities, sending guests scurrying for carriages, Rowan and Selina were among the first to depart.

“Home?” he asked as they settled into their carriage.

Selina shook her head. “Not yet. I’d like to show you something first.”

She gave the driver quiet instructions, then leaned back against the cushions, a small smile playing at her lips as Rowan glanced at her, clearly intrigued. The carriage rolled away from Mayfair, turning toward a quieter, less fashionable part of the city.

“Where are we going?” Rowan asked as the streets grew narrower, the buildings more modest.

“To where I lived after Lord Galerton died,” Selina replied. “Before our marriage.”

Understanding dawned in his eyes as the carriage stopped before a narrow townhouse, its facade respectable but far from the grandeur of their current residence.

“This is where you were when I returned?”

“Yes. Renting two rooms from a widow who needed the income.” Selina gazed at the familiar windows. “I was fortunate. Many widows in my position end up in far worse circumstances.”