Page 23 of The Ones Left Behind
“You took your time,” Matthias remarked dryly, thinking at least twenty minutes had passed since Sir Nigel’s arrival.
Hornsby scoffed in his familiar way. “It will do that pompous arse some good to cool his heels.”
Matthias could not agree more. “Take your time in shaving me. I have no objection to making him wait, calling uninvited as he did.”
“And you on your sickbed, sir. After the way he treated Mrs. Gordon, I have a mind to draw his cork.”
“Has something new occurred?” Matthias asked, a bad feeling encroaching on his humour.
“Thomas said the turkey-cock humiliated her on the high street, in front of the whole village. Accused her of being your mistress, the dastard.”
Matthias instantly wanted Sir Nigel’s blood. “He is fortunate to find me incapacitated.”
He was too angry to say another word as they finished his morning ablutions. His mind was fully occupied in pondering what to do.
“Where would you like to go, my lord?” Hornsby asked when Matthias was ready.
“I believe we should make a grand show of my incapacitation. That should set the stage nicely for his accusations. Will he dare say the words to my face when he sees my condition?”
“He deserves to be called out for such baseness. Anyone who knows Mrs. Gordon at all must know she would never behave thus.”
“Just so.” Certainly she would never do anything openly to sully Peter’s name. What she might have done, while living on the streets, in order to survive… Matthias could barely contain his anger. Part of it was at himself for not personally ensuring Kitty had been properly taken care of.
Hornsby carried Matthias down the stairs and two footmen swung open the doors to the drawing room where Sir Nigel had, apparently, been pacing for over an hour.
“Thackeray!” he began and then stopped short when he saw Matthias being cradled like an infant in Hornsby’s arms.
Matthias was not about to make this easy for Sir Nigel. As he was placed on the sofa he groaned, and only partially for dramatic effect.
“What may I do for you, Sir Nigel?” he asked in a pained voice as he adjusted his position.
“I am sorry for your injury,” Sir Nigel said, sounding as if he were swallowing bile.
“Thank you. We do not know yet if it will mend—or, indeed, if I will walk again.”
“Yes, well, I came to speak with you about my sister-in-law. I have been told she is living under your roof.” He sniffed, an affectation Matthias could not stomach.
“Do tell me how it concerns you if she is? Did you not wash your hands of her with twenty pounds and—allow me the indulgence of plain speaking—a swift kick out of the door?”
Hornsby made a sound of approval in his throat and Matthias cast him a warning look. Hornsby had ever been one of those sergeants who spoke his mind. Had he worked for an unforgiving master, he would have been whipped constantly.
His comment eroded Sir Nigel’s pretence of civility as Matthias had known it would.
“None of my concern?” he blustered. “She bears my name, man!”
Matthias remained outwardly calm, hoping it would only serve to infuriate Sir Nigel more. “Regrettable, I agree. However, she bears not your name but Peter’s, God rest his soul. Your brother would have expected much more from you, you must know that. When Kitty swallowed her pride and asked you for help and a place to live, you washed your hands of her and from that moment she was no longer your responsibility.”
“That’s as may be, but now she has the audacity to flaunt herself in my village and take up residence under your roof. It is unforgivable! I will not tolerate it!”
“There is nothing for you to tolerate. She needed a home and she will always have one here. If you recall, she is also a distant relation of mine, and I take full responsibility for her welfare. You may go, in good conscience, knowing that you have rid yourself of her once and for all.”
“That is not the way of such matters, and you know it! Rumours are already flying all over the village!” Sir Nigel argued.
“Rumours which, I daresay, you began! And what is more, you did not attempt to mitigate them but instead added fuel to the fire! I should call you out for insulting her so!”
Sir Nigel’s face burned red and the veins throbbed in his neck. Could he be so kind as to have an apoplexy and save the world from his presence? Matthias suppressed his uncharitable wishes and returned his attention to the imbecile standing before him.
“As you can see, I am in no condition either to fight a duel or make anyone my mistress. I suggest you do your best to clear Kitty’s good name—” He deliberately avoided using the name Gordon. “And allow her to proceed with her life. I returned from the war to find she’s been grieving for Peter in abject poverty, no thanks to you. If ever I hear that you have uttered another word against her, then you will deal not only with me but very likely all of Peter’s brethren in arms also, for they swore an oath to protect Kitty.”
