Page 5 of The Wicked Duke's Convenient Bride
She had never seen such green eyes in her entire life. They gave him a vaguely cat-like appearance, and she felt as if she were being scrutinized. It was as if His Grace could see all the way down to her soul, and she had a sneaking, dreadful suspicion that he found her profoundly lacking.
Chapter 2
Matthew, the Duke of Hillsburgh, was hiding. Of course, if anyone had asked if he were hiding, he would have denied it. He would have claimed he was merely allowing his guests time to acquaint themselves with his mother, who loved company so dearly.
If he were to marry Lady Tabitha, a chit nearly twenty years younger than him, it would surely be worthwhile to allow his future bride and mother some time to become better acquainted. If Matthew were being honest with himself, which he was not inclined to do at the moment, he would admit that he was hiding.
“Matthew.” His mother’s stern voice came from the doorway, and he raised his head. “I am going to greet our guests.”
Why are you seated at your desk, acting as if you do not know they are in our parlour at this very moment? That question remained unspoken in the air, but Matthew nonetheless heard the sentiment of it.
“I will be down shortly,” he said. “I am merely finishing this correspondence. Regrettably, the matter is quite urgent.”
He gestured towards the letter on his desk. In truth, he was not answering any correspondence. Instead, he was looking over some letters that he had received from Jonathan Howell, a former Bow Street runner and an especially talented purveyor of information who had been willing to travel abroad for a rather sizable sum. At present, he was in France.
“Surely, it can wait until our guests have left,” his mother said, frowning.
“I wish, but I do fear time is truly of the essence.”
She did not look as though she believed him, and Matthew supposed that he could not be vexed by her doubts. Although he had agreed to entertain the idea of this arrangement, he had also not given the impression that he was especially excited about the prospect of marrying another woman.
“I shall entertain our guests until you are available, then.”
“I shall be down shortly.”
“Indeed,” his mother replied. “If you are not, I may have to give them a tour of your lovely townhouse. I am told that Lady Tabitha is a great admirer of books, and I am certain she would enjoy seeing the volumes in your study.”
Matthew arched an eyebrow, his eyes sweeping towards the volumes. “Most of them are Greek and Latin. I doubt Lady Tabitha would be able to read them.”
“Who could say? I am told that she has the mind of a scholar. Lord and Lady Mayhew evidently spared no expense in procuring Lady Tabitha all the most learned tutors they could find.”
Matthew hummed. Tutors? He would have expected Lady Tabitha to have a governess and nothing more than that.
“But even if she cannot, you must have something of interest in this room,” the Dowager Duchess said, the threat evident in her voice.
If Matthew did not join his guests promptly enough, she would bring them to him. Still, he refused to be cowed by his mother, especially after he had already generously agreed to entertain her idea of an engagement. No one could fault him for being a little vexing, given the circumstances.
“I do have a fascinating set of legal texts,” he drawled.
“I shall see you shortly,” his mother said.
She turned on her heel and left. For a long moment, Matthew watched the door. Only when he was certain that she had truly left and had not paused just out of sight, trying to conspire some other means by which she might persuade him to greet their guests in a timelier manner, did he let some of the tension leave his tired muscles.
He had hoped this letter would have the answers he needed and the justification to end this engagement with Lady Tabitha. Howell was frustratingly vague, but to be fair, it was hard to be detailed when there were no facts to find. Matthew clenched his jaw and scowled at the missive as if he could make the words produce more desirable information with the force of his glare. Predictably, he could not.
He cast the letter aside, his mood as dark as a storm cloud. It would be unwise to answer Howell when he was in such a foul mood, especially given that the man was surely doing his best. Matthew reluctantly rose, feeling his impending engagement like a physical weight placed on his shoulders. Doubtlessly, Lady Tabitha would be some overly eager, lovely creature who only wished to wed him because of his title and wealth. What a prize that was!
Matthew left his study. The parlour was only a few rooms away, and as he approached, he heard his mother’s soft voice recounting all the details of ball preparations. It was ridiculous, all of it. He was marrying Lady Tabitha, hoping that she would produce an heir and for no other reason. His mother wished to host a ball to celebrate buying a broodmare. How charming.
As he approached the parlour, he caught the gaze of the young lady seated on the settee between a regal-looking lord and lady. She had to be Lady Tabitha. Matthew had expected a beauty, but somehow—
Somehow, he still found himself caught unaware by how lovely she was. Her face was soft and pale, coloured only with the most delicate flush of pink over her cheeks. Soft, blonde curls framed her face. Lady Tabitha’s eyes were so pale grey that they looked silver when they caught the light. Matthew sensed that he was not looking at a mortal woman, but some delicate and elfish lady come from Fairyland. His breath nearly shuddered.
“There you are, Your Grace,” his mother said, rising to her feet. “Let me make introductions.”
They were made, and when Lady Tabitha stepped forward, she trod on the hem of her gown. Although the lady recovered quickly, he still noted how she stumbled, her body jolting forward just a little. “Your Grace,” she said.
She looked young and fragile, and seeing her nearly fall against him awakened feelings deep inside. His trousers seemed suddenly too tight, and he felt his pulse quicken. Lady Tabitha had the sort of face that suggested vulnerability and fragility, a damsel who needed a chivalric man to protect her, yet there was something sharp and discerning in her gaze, something as bright as steel that said this woman could take care of herself if the need ever arose.
