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“ G ood morning, Duchess. I trust you slept well?”

Selina looked up to find the Duke already seated at the breakfast table, a newspaper spread before him. He wore a dark riding coat, his cravat arranged with perfect precision. No sign in his composed features of the strange, tense encounter from the previous night.

“Well enough, thank you,” Selina replied, taking the seat opposite him.

A footman appeared instantly at her side, offering coffee. She accepted with a nod, then selected a small portion of eggs and toast from the silver serving dishes. Her appetite had abandoned her, but appearances had to be maintained.

“I will tour some of the nearby tenant farms today,” the Duke said, folding his newspaper and setting it aside. “Many require attention after my absence.”

Selina felt a fresh sting of hurt at his apparent eagerness to be away from her. After rejecting her the previous night, he now seemed intent on putting physical distance between them as well.

“I see,” she said, keeping her voice neutral. “I hope you find everything in order.”

“I doubt I shall.” His mouth tightened. “My steward has done his best, but it is my duty to oversee them.”

An awkward silence fell. Selina sipped her coffee, struggling to appear unconcerned by his imminent departure.

“Will you be dining at home this evening?” she asked finally.

“I expect to return by nightfall, yes,” he rose from his chair. “Is there anything you require before I go?”

A husband who wanted her. A marriage that was more than a business arrangement. The freedom to make her own choices.

“No, thank you,” she said, focusing on buttering her toast. “I shall manage just fine, Your Grace.”

The Duke hesitated, as if about to say something more. Instead, he gave a curt bow. “Until this evening, then.”

She did not raise her eyes to watch him leave. Only when the dining room door closed behind him did she set down her toast, her hand trembling slightly.

Last night, she had gathered every ounce of courage to fulfill her marital duty. She had steeled herself for what must come, only to be sent away like an unwanted child.

The humiliation still burned.

Clearly, her new husband found her repulsive. Or perhaps he had a mistress tucked away in London who satisfied his needs, making Selina nothing more than a convenient brood mare to be used when an heir was required.

The thought brought unexpected tears to her eyes. She blinked them away furiously. She would not waste tears on a man who had forced her into marriage only to reject her.

“More coffee, Your Grace?” The footman approached, silver pot in hand.

Selina straightened her spine. “No, thank you. I believe I shall speak with Mrs. Wilson about the household accounts.”

If the Duke did not want her company, she would make herself useful elsewhere. She was Duchess of Aldermere now, whether or not he desired her, and there were duties to attend to.

Mrs. Wilson looked surprised, but pleased, to find Selina at the housekeeper’s door an hour later.

“Your Grace! I did not expect you so soon.” She hastily cleared a stack of ledgers from a chair. “Please, sit down.”

Selina smiled, taking the offered seat. “I thought we might review the household arrangements together. I would like to understand how Aldermere is managed.”

“Of course, Your Grace.” Mrs. Wilson beamed, clearly delighted by this show of interest. “Where would you like to begin?”

The morning passed swiftly as Selina immersed herself in the intricacies of running a ducal estate.

Mrs. Wilson proved an excellent teacher, explaining everything from the ordering system for household supplies to the rotation of seasonal staff.

“I see you’re ordering candles from London,” Selina noted, examining a ledger. “The chandler in the village produces excellent beeswax tapers at half the price. My first husband’s estate used them exclusively.”

Mrs. Wilson looked surprised. “I did not know, Your Grace. We’ve always ordered from Fortnum’s, as the late Duchess preferred their product.”

“Perhaps we could try the local option,” Selina suggested. “It would support the village economy and reduce our expenses.”

“An excellent idea, Your Grace.” Mrs. Wilson scribbled a note. “The Duke has always emphasized prudent management, but I confess some of our arrangements are based more on tradition than efficiency.”

Selina smiled. “Then let us see where improvements might be made without sacrificing quality.”

By luncheon, they had identified several areas for immediate change: consolidating orders to reduce delivery fees, adjusting the laundry schedule to conserve coal, and reassigning two underutilized maids to areas of greater need.

“You have quite a talent for household management, Your Grace,” Mrs. Wilson said admiringly as they concluded their session. “His Grace will be most impressed.”

Selina doubted the Duke would notice or care, but she kept the thought to herself.

“Thank you, Mrs. Wilson. I’ve enjoyed our morning together.”

After a light luncheon taken in the morning room, Selina explored the house further.

Aldermere Hall was magnificent, its elegant proportions and refined decoration speaking of generations of wealth and taste. She wandered through drawing rooms and galleries, studying portraits of stern-faced ancestors.

She paused before a painting of a beautiful woman with ash-brown hair and serious gray eyes—the Duke’s mother, presumably.

The resemblance was unmistakable: the mouth’s shape, the proud tilt of the head.

But where the Duke’s expression was guarded, almost hostile, his mother’s eyes held a gentle wisdom.

“Your Grace?”

Selina turned to find Simmons, the butler, standing in the doorway.

“Forgive the interruption, but a package has arrived for you from the Duchess of Emberford.”

Her spirits lifted at the mention of her friend Georgiana. “How wonderful. Where is it?”

“In the blue drawing room, Your Grace. I took the liberty of having tea prepared as well.”

“Thank you, Simmons. That was most thoughtful.”

The butler led her to a charming room overlooking the gardens, where a large parcel wrapped in brown paper sat on a table beside a silver tea service. Agnes was already there, pouring tea for her.

“The staff hopes you don’t mind our presence, Your Grace,” Agnes said nervously. “We’re all curious about your first wedding gift.”

Selina smiled, unexpectedly touched by their interest. “Not at all. Please, stay.”

She untied the string and opened the package to find two items nestled in protective wrapping.

The first was a book, bound in soft blue leather with gilt edges. Opening it, she discovered a collection of poetry—all her favorites, from Donne to Pope to a few modern verses by Lord Byron. Inside the cover, Georgiana had inscribed a personal message:

For my dearest Selina, whose friendship I treasure. May these words bring comfort and joy in your new home.

With love, Georgiana.

“How lovely,” Selina murmured, running her fingers over the embossed cover.

The second item was a bottle of brandy, its amber liquid gleaming through dark glass. A small card attached read:

For the Duke—a rare vintage chosen by Robert, with our congratulations.

Beneath these gifts was a letter sealed with the Emberford crest. Selina broke the seal and read her friend’s familiar handwriting:

My dearest Selina,

I cannot express how sorry I am to have missed your wedding. Robert and I were devastated to receive your news after we had already departed for Emberford. To think of you married without your closest friend by your side breaks my heart.

I hope the enclosed small tokens bring you some cheer. The poetry collection was commissioned especially for you—I remembered all the volumes you admired in our reading sessions together.

Robert and I shall return to London in three weeks’ time. I hope we might see you and your husband then. I am most eager to meet the Duke and to ensure he appreciates the treasure he has claimed.

Write to me, dearest friend. Tell me everything.

With deepest affection, Georgiana

Selina folded the letter, her heart full. Even from a distance, Georgiana had found a way to offer comfort and support.

“What a thoughtful gift,” Agnes remarked, admiring the poetry volume.

“The Duchess of Emberford is a dear friend,” Selina explained. “Her kindness helped me through a difficult time.”

“And such a fine bottle for His Grace,” Simmons observed, examining the brandy with an expert eye. “A thirty-year-old vintage from France. Very rare indeed.”

Selina had almost forgotten the staff was still present. She looked up to find several maids, a footman, and the butler all watching her with warm interest. Their obvious desire to welcome her touched something in her heart.

“Could you place this in His Grace’s study for his return?” she said, handing the brandy to Simmons. “And perhaps you could arrange for fresh flowers in the dining room tonight? I believe we should celebrate our first wedding gift properly.”

“Of course, Your Grace.” Simmons bowed, barely concealing his approval.

As the staff dispersed, Selina remained with her book of poems, turning the pages slowly.

Georgiana’s gift reminded her she was not entirely alone in this strange new life. She had friends who cared for her, and now, a household that seemed eager for her leadership.

She might not have her husband’s regard, but perhaps she could still find purpose as Duchess of Aldermere. It wasn’t the life she had imagined for herself, but it was the one she now possessed.

She would make the best of it, with or without the Duke’s approval.