Page 50 of The Wicked Duke's Convenient Bride
“She did,” Matthew said. “Explain.”
“All those years ago, Rosemary chose to leave you,” Lord Fatherton said. “You were not exciting or rich enough for her, so she left for a better man.”
“You, I suppose?” Matthew asked.
This was the most absurd story Matthew had ever heard in his life. Lord Fatherton could not possibly expect him to believe this farce.
“Oh, no,” Lord Fatherton said. “At first, I was enough for her. Our affair lasted for months, right under your nose. Sometimes, under your own roof.”
“Lies!” Matthew snarled. “Rosemary would never betray me like that. She would never debase herself with a snake like you!”
“You think you know her so well,” Lord Fatherton said. “Do you know why she left? Because she found a prince who could give her everything she wanted on the Continent. She was his mistress for years until he was passed over for the crown in favour of his younger brother.”
Matthew shook his head. “Ridiculous!” he snapped. “I cannot imagine what you hope to gain by spinning this fairy tale, but you will not get whatever you are hoping for from me.”
“You are a fool!” Lord Fatherton snapped. “Such a fool! You will see soon enough. Now that she has lost her chance at a crown, she intends to return to London for you. How sweet. I am sure she and your new wife will be fast friends.”
“You showed Tabitha my watch,” Matthew said.
Lord Fatherton withdrew it from his jacket. “This one?”
Matthew felt as if all his breath had left his body. That was his watch – he would recognize it anywhere. How did Lord Fatherton have it?
“Rosemary did not give that to you,” Matthew said, feeling dazed.
“If you will not believe the evidence when it is being held before your very eyes, you are even more hopeless than I thought,” Lord Fatherton said, shaking his head in mock dismay. “Poor man.”
Matthew could endure the lies no longer. His fist found Lord Fatherton’s jaw, and the man fell backwards. The man’s head struck the wall, and he collapsed to the ground. Matthew’s breath came in sharp gasps of air. He curled and uncurled his fingers, only just becoming aware of the blood and stinging pain that jolted through his torn knuckles. Matthew bent down and took the watch from Lord Fatherton’s limp hand.
Matthew squinted against the darkness, peering closely at the lord. Although Lord Fatherton had struck his head and fallen, there was no blood from the head wound. The blood from his nose was substantial, but Matthew strongly suspected that the wound appeared worse than it was. Lord Fatherton was unconscious. When he woke, he would be in a great deal of pain, but he would survive.
With a scowl, Matthew stowed the watch into his coat pocket and stormed away. Lord Fatherton was a liar. He had to be. This was all some cruel scheme.
Matthew entered the club, drawing several whispers and stares.
“Is ... is he hurt?” a young man asked.
“He will live,” Matthew replied. “He is fortunate that I only punched him. He dishonoured my wife.”
Wives, but that was a strange thought.
“That is the Duke of Hillsburgh,” another gentleman whispered. “Leave him be.”
Although he was not a member of the club, Matthew settled by the bar. A glass of Scotch was promptly offered, and Matthew finished it in a single swallow. The burn of the alcohol against his throat was steadying in a way. He beckoned for another and then turned his attention to the watch. It was miraculously unharmed despite having fallen with Lord Fatherton. He turned it over, tracing his thumb over his familiar initials.
Lord Fatherton’s story made no sense. It could not possibly be true, yet Matthew could think of no other reason for Lord Fatherton to possess that watch. Matthew ran his hands through his hair, grimacing when he caught sight of the blood on his hands. He had not punched another man in anger since he was much younger, but Lord Fatherton had the gall to insult both Tabitha and Rosemary.
A throat cleared, and Matthew snapped his head to the man whom he assumed to be the purveyor of the club. “I must ask you to leave, Your Grace. I cannot have fighting in here. It disturbs the joyous atmosphere.”
Matthew smiled thinly and shoved the watch into his coat. “Of course,” he said smoothly. “You merely allow your members to behave like scoundrels and rakes. I sought to defend my wife’s honour, as any man would.”
“Nevertheless, I must request that you leave.”
Matthew stood and threw a handful of coins onto the bar as compensation for the spirits. “Fine,” he said tartly.
Matthew walked away from the bar and crossed the floor. The ton would doubtlessly be gossiping about him; they probably already were. Matthew sighed. He somewhat regretted having left his isolated existence. As he left the club, he consciously did not look to see if Lord Fatherton was still sprawled unconscious on the street. The scoundrel deserved whatever fate he might find. Instead, Matthew shoved his hands into his coat, one hand curling around his watch, and resolutely walked towards his townhouse.
He wondered if Tabitha would be there or if this most recent fight might have pushed her to leave and seek refuge with her doting mother and father. Matthew ran both his hands through his hair. The exhilaration from the fight with Lord Fatherton had begun to fade, and Matthew was suddenly so tired.
