Page 45 of The Wicked Duke's Convenient Bride
“I know what you must be thinking, and I can assure you it was nothing.”
Why did it even bother him anyway? Had he not resolved to make this a marriage of convenience? Matthew grimaced. He knew that this was not a marriage of convenience, not anymore. It had stopped being that when he learned about Rosemary’s death and chose to find his comfort in Tabitha’s arms.
“Say something!” Tabitha said.
Matthew drew her closer, saying nothing as he moved through the familiar steps of the dance. If he spoke, he just knew that he would say something he regretted.
“You are angry with me,” she said flatly.
“Oh, you are clever. How ever did you guess?” Matthew asked.
Tabitha pressed her lips into a thin line. The dance drew them close together, and Matthew felt himself grasping her waist a little more tightly than he otherwise might have. He did not normally behave like this. These possessive actions and thoughts were those of a much younger man, but he still silently hoped that Lord Fatherton saw them dancing together. Matthew hoped that the man was slowly going mad with envy.
“You do not even understand the situation,” Tabitha said, “yet you have resolved to be angry at me for it.”
“I understand well enough,” Matthew retorted. “There are only so many reasons for that rake to be standing so near a married woman, and you did not seem particularly displeased with his presence. I did not hear a word of protest from you.”
“Oh?” Tabitha asked. “Did you listen to the entire conversation or just swoop in and find the worst possible conclusion?”
She twirled, and Matthew loathed how beautiful she was. In the flickering light of the candles, Tabitha was enchanting. Her hair shined gold, and her eyes gleamed like the moon. Even her pale blue gown looked as though it were touched by some strange magic as if it had been crafted from the sky itself. Matthew hated that he noticed how beautiful she was and that he had—
What was the word? Had he grown attached to her? Matthew scowled as he struggled to untangle all the conflicting feelings within himself. He was hurt, he decided. Despite his inconsistent resolve not to have any real affection for this woman, somehow the threat of losing her—of her affections being held by another—brought out something angry and jealous within him.
“I did not seek out Cassius.”
“Cassius?”
The informal address made Matthew want to abandon the dance at once and storm across the ballroom to demand satisfaction from Lord Fatherton. But perhaps Matthew’s anger was displaced. Lord Fatherton was a notorious rakehell and always had been.
His behaviour was predictably despicable, but Matthew had expected better of his wife. He had thought that Tabitha would treat their marriage seriously, especially since things had been going so well between them. Perhaps she had only pretended that all was well between them, though.
“We were friends once,” Tabitha said.
But Matthew was no fool. He caught how her voice quavered with the merest hint of hesitance, and he knew that Tabitha and Lord Fatherton had been far more than simply friends. “He was your situation, was he not?” Matthew asked sharply.
Tabitha drew in a sharp breath. She looked stricken.
The dance ended, and for a heartbeat, Matthew only stared at her. He was torn somewhere between anger and despair. “I would guess that you enjoyed his attention,” he said, lowering his voice. “Was that why you agreed to this marriage? So you could return to him the moment you were wed to a respectable man?”
“How dare you?” she hissed.
“Oh, how dare I?” Matthew asked.
“You know nothing about which you speak,” Tabitha said, “and you do not seem inclined to let me explain.”
“There is nothing to explain.”
“Then, I shall spend the rest of my evening with Bridgette, a reasonable human being,” Tabitha replied. “Excuse me.”
“I do not know if I believe you,” Matthew said.
Tabitha gave no reply. Her face reddened, and she turned so quickly that her skirts spun around her. She stormed across the ballroom floor and joined her friend Bridgette, who stood against the wall.
Matthew crossed his arms, watching through narrowed eyes as the two women conversed with one another. He had no doubt that Tabitha was telling the story to present herself as an innocent victim rather than what she clearly was—a woman who had chosen to entangle herself with a rake and former lover!
He felt an unexpected surge of guilt. The gentlemanly thing to do would be to follow her and apologize for his refusal to listen. But would he have believed any explanation? Matthew did not know, and hearing even more lies would just be worse. He would want them so desperately to be true. Matthew raked a hand through his hair. He had been so foolish for thinking that he could find any semblance of peace or normalcy! No, he seemed doomed forever to find himself torn between the past and present and between his own conflicting emotions.
“Dear?” His mother’s voice came gently. When he looked over his shoulder, he found her eyes soft and concerned. “Are you well? You look … upset.”
