"Lady Rowena is quite the prominent socialite," Alistair continued, his tone carefully measured. "She has an extensive network of informants who keep her updated on every whisper in Lockwood society."
I traced my fingers along the edge of an exquisite silk shawl, absorbing this new information. "So she likely already knows about the marriage."
"Indeed, Your Grace. I would be surprised if she hasn't heard by now." Alistair's expression remained neutral, but his eyes betrayed concern. "And I must warn you—she will not be pleased."
"Because I'm not Lady Helena Pembroke?" I asked, attempting to keep my voice light despite the knot forming in my stomach.
"Because you're not someone she selected." Alistair sighed. "Lady Rowena has always believed she knows what's best for the Duke. Any bride not of her choosing would face her... disapproval."
The weight of his words settled over me. Another person who would look at me and find me wanting. Another battle to fight.