Page 22 of The Ones Left Behind
“Sir Nigel,” she said, trying not to sound bitter.
He puffed out his chest. “Is it true?”
“Is what true?” Kitty had no idea what he was talking about.
“The words are too distasteful to say. Yet someone must preserve our good name.”
“Whatever are you referring to, Gordon?”
“It is said that you are living at the Close as hismistress.” He emphasized the last word with all the righteous indignation he could probably muster, spittle forming on his lips with the last syllable.
Kitty had known that such rumours were a possibility, but they hurt nonetheless.
“He will never marry you, you know. He would not marry you then, so why would he now? Especially if you are giving him what he wants without the bonds of holy matrimony.” Sir Nigel sneered. “I must insist you leave there at once to preserve my family’s good name—which, unfortunately, you share.”
“Your good name?” She barely contained her fury. “You had the chance to help me and you offered me a pittance and no shelter. You do not support me, therefore you do not have the right to tell me what I may or may not do!”
“You blacken the family name by your actions!”
Kitty gasped at his insolence. “Your heart is as black as your hair!” She turned her back on him and walked away, her heart pounding and her face burning. She hated confrontation and he always brought out the worst in her. She was mortified and knew she would regret her rash tongue. Of a certainty he would make her suffer for it.
“Do you deny it?” he called after her, his tone demanding and harsh.
She neither turned nor deigned to answer such an insult. It was not only an insult to herself but also to Lord Thackeray.
She held her head up as she brushed through the growing number of spectators who had come out of their houses to see what the disturbance was. Kitty had not known she could feel such utter humiliation.
CHAPTER7
Matthias’s head was pounding like the devil. He groaned and rolled over as much as he could on to his side, pulling his pillow up over his head.Pound! Pound! Pound!He then realized it was not solely his head, although that definitely was pounding, but someone at the front door.
Blessedly, someone answered the door, but it was not long until he heard footsteps climbing the stairs. He groaned, then cursed. Mayhap the intruder would not be for him.
“My lord?” Hayes asked tentatively after knocking and opening the door.
“Tell them to go away,” he grumbled.
“I do not think that will be possible, sir.”
“At least tell them to come back at a reasonable hour,” Matthias commanded tartly.
The butler coughed discreetly as butlers do. “It is half after two in the afternoon, my lord.”
“Who is this beastly guest to demand an audience in such a rude manner?”
“Sir Nigel Gordon, my lord.”
Matthias sat up straight in anger and immediately winced. His head was throbbing almost as much as his leg. “The devil!” he cursed.
“Shall I send Hornsby to you?”
“If you must.”
“Very good, my lord.”
Matthias leaned his head back on the headboard. Nothing good ever came from a visit with Sir Nigel, even when he was in a good mood. Based on his infernal pounding, as if he were indeed trying to escape the fiery furnace, he was decidedly not in a good mood. Neither was Matthias.
He waited until Hornsby arrived with warm water.
