by Quinn, Paula
But he was tempted. More than he should be.
*
Christmas morning dawned brightly because another flurry of snow had fallen that night. Matilda enjoyed a good snowfall if she was somewhere warm and safe, but last night she hadn’t noticed it at all. She’d had other things to think about, like having a man in her bed for the first time in her life. Her previous encounter had not included a bed. Well, she pondered as her maid worked at disentangling her hair, she’d started late on her disreputable career, so she might as well start at the top. With a duke.
Although when she had him to herself, he was an entirely different person. Even with Delphi, he was kind but distant, maintaining the ducal imperiousness. If she’d ever imagined what making love with a duke was like, she wouldn’t have said it was so full of passion and laughter.
When he’d caught her falling out of the tree, she hadn’t taken him for a high and mighty gentleman. He’d been dressed quite normally for one thing, and his manner hadn’t been ducal at all. And she should know, she’d met a number of them recently.
Matilda sucked in a sharp breath as her maid caught a knot in the comb. “Sorry, ma’am,” the girl muttered.
“As long as you don’t pull any out,” Matilda said. Her hair had thinned a little recently, but since it had been thick to start with, she didn’t mind much. But she’d like to keep what she had left. “Will you powder, ma’am?”
Matilda lifted her head and met the woman’s eyes directly, enforcing her position as mistress. “Gray,” she said. “The dark one.”
She was fully aware that the staff weren’t inclined to give her the respect they gave to others. She had no title, no aristocratic blood. In fact, she was almost one of them. But she’d had little trouble with them, and she never went to Gerald or Annie.
The maid stopped tugging and teased instead. She produced exactly the shade of powder that Matilda wanted.
Downstairs, Matilda found the breakfast parlor positively heaving with company. She strode in, nodded to Annie, who was sitting at a much expanded oval breakfast table, and helped herself to what she wanted from the sideboard. She smiled, recalling the savagery of family breakfasts at home with Gerald and his family. Grab or you’d lose it was the rule. It provided a stark contrast to the civilized meals in formal surroundings. Sometimes they all needed a reminder of where they had come from.
The silver was fine and thick, not at all like the more delicate silverware that was making Annie’s fortune at Cathcart’s. But then, the people here didn’t need affordable silver. They needed the splashy, flamboyant kind. The kind that had been in the family for generations.
She saw Harry as she sat. He was chatting to Dorcas and didn’t look in her direction once. He was more disciplined than she was, because she had to work very hard not to look at him.
“Miss Cathcart?”
Startled, she found one of the Comyn girls sitting next to her. She couldn’t recognize which one for a moment. She wasn’t usually so gauche. “Lady Sarah, it’s good to see you in such good health.” Lady Sarah had suffered a terrible bout of influenza at the end of the season. Her rosy cheeks and soft curves attested to her recovery.
“Thank you. I am so much better.” She smiled brightly. “Mama was concerned, but I was so well cared for there was no possible chance of my succumbing to it. You are well?”
Matilda responded to the query politely, as required. She got the feeling that Lady Sarah had not registered her response. She could have said anything, and she was tempted to. “I was pleasantly rogered by the Duke of Trensom last night,” perhaps. She doubted the girl would have heard a word of it. She had that vague look of someone intent on business of her own.
“Good. That is good to hear. Miss Cathcart, I know you are devoted to your family. But with one of the Dersingham sisters married and another likely to be betrothed, we were wondering if you might consider another position?”
“Position?” Matilda could hardly believe what she was hearing.
“You know, as companion.” The girl blushed. “Forgive me for being so forward. Mama does not know I’m approaching you like this, but she has so much to do that she rarely has time to devote to all of us.” She spoke quickly, rushing her words. “My illness meant that my sister Amelia had a very poor season, and I do feel that help would be welcome. I just thought I’d mention the matter to you first, so you were prepared. Then I may discuss the situation with Mama. It doesn’t seem right that she spreads her attentions so far. There are five of us females, and while the oldest two are betrothed, the rest of us are not.”
So she was the poor relative to be usefully employed, was she?
Could anyone else hear this? No, the room was clearing, and the spaces nearest them were empty. She didn’t have to look to know that Harry was still in the room. She felt his presence. But he was not paying attention to her, at least she didn’t think so.
Matilda put her knife and fork side by side on her plate, her appetite gone. If anything would put her back in her place it was this; being taken for a paid companion.
Not that she had anything against paid companions. They provided a much-needed service, and certainly earned their keep. Just that she wasn’t one.
To answer the way she wanted to would be to insult the daughter of someone who had been very kind to the Dersinghams. Lady Comyn had helped them avert the disaster of being rejected by their peers.
“So you think your mama would want to employ me?” she asked.
“Oh, indeed, she would! Notwithstanding your humble origins. You are the most delightful person, and easily up to the task. And you have Mama’s confidence. Indeed, I could think of nobody better!” She smiled broadly as if she’d just delivered a compliment.
So Matilda smiled as if she had done just that. “I’m so sorry, but I believe I will be required here for some time to come. And if I am not, I don’t intend to find useful employment for myself. I have no need, you see.”
“Oh.” The girl frowned. “I could have sworn someone said…” Shaking her head, she got to her feet. “I’m so sorry. I would not have approached you if I thought…”
She backed away. “Please don’t tell my mama.”
At least she had the sense to understand that her mother wouldn’t appreciate her approach.
She had been poached, or at least someone had tried to do so. Her pleasure in the morning dissipated. Reminded of her place among the aristocracy, Matilda left the room and decided to go downstairs to ensure the Dersingham servants were happy with their treatment here. Apparently, that was where she belonged. The attitude wasn’t unusual, at least in the society where she found herself.
As she reached the door leading down to the kitchen, a door to her right opened and she was snatched into the room. The door closed behind her and a mouth slammed over hers as she opened it to cry for help.
She knew that mouth. Harry folded her into his arms and kissed her some more before lifting his head. “It was all I could do not to join you at breakfast.” Smiling down at her, he kissed her again. “Good morning, sweetheart.”
Sweetheart was she now? “Good morning.” She tried to keep her tone frosty but even to her own ears she sounded far too welcoming. “So why did you not join me?”
“Because I refuse to allow gossip to touch you.”
She touched his chin with the tip of her finger, the smooth skin warm and giving. “You sound like a toplofty duke.”
“That’s because I am a toplofty duke. All I need to do is to allow people to assume it. People have treated me that way since my birth. I’m an only son, you know, so I was cosseted from a young age.”
“I’m not an only child, either.”
He nodded. “Your brother.”
“He was considerably older than me.” She wouldn’t allow him to turn the conversation to her until she’d satisfied her curiosity. “People spoke about you as if you’re an ogre. He’ll eat you alive, they said.”
He tightened his hold on her
for a few seconds and growled. “Didn’t I do enough of that last night? I see I will have to visit you again to ensure you know how much of an ogre I am.” His grimace relaxed into a smile. “All I have to do is look stuffy. I employ ogres as servants so they can do all the ogreing for me.”
She frowned. “Why? I mean, Glenbreck doesn’t do that, so it’s not something all dukes do.”
“Most of them.” He gazed down at her, his expression growing distant.
Matilda worried. Had she said too much? Crossed an invisible barrier? She was usually socially aware, but Harry had taken her by surprise.
“I prefer to keep my distance,” he said eventually.
She accepted his non-answer. If he didn’t want to talk about it, she wouldn’t force him. The tremor of fear that shivered through her at his sudden chill had taken her by surprise. Very little made Matilda afraid. She thought she was over that particular unpleasant emotion, but perhaps she wasn’t after all.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
He shook his head and drew her closer when she would have pulled out of his arms. “What for? People stare at me, fuss over me and treat me like a prince. All the time, Matilda. I don’t like it, that’s all. And I worked out a way to cope with it. When I enter a room, everybody looks at me.”
“And they gossip,” she reminded him.
“Yes, they do. Which is why I won’t spend too much time with you in public. It doesn’t mean I don’t want to. I truly do.”
After grazing the tip of her nose with his lips in an affectionate gesture she’d never thought he was capable of before last night, he said, “Now, tell me what that foolish girl said to you at breakfast.”
Her mind worked rapidly to find an acceptable answer.
He stopped her thoughts with another kiss. “Tell me, Matilda.”
She had to tell him the humiliating truth. “She wanted to know if I was available to work as a companion. She believes her illness at the end of the summer deprived her sisters of their season, because her mother had no time for them.”
“And she thought you were for sale?” he asked, his face a picture of astonishment, as if he couldn’t believe it.
She swallowed. “Only as a companion. There is no shame in the position of companion. But I am not one.”
“She thought you needed money?” He truly sounded astonished.
“I’m the opposite of you. I’m an upstart, the daughter of trade. I don’t belong.”
“You belong here, with me.”
But she did not.
Chapter Nine
Matilda accompanied Harry to the schoolroom and witnessed the delightful sight of his daughters presenting him with Christmas gifts.
Harry’s daughters did not treat their father with reverence. Respect, yes, but they called him “Papa”, not “sir”. They presented him with handmade gifts that he handled carefully, treasuring them as much as any precious jewel. The eldest girl, Annabella, gave him an embroidered depiction of the Colosseum in Rome. That was an unwelcome reminder to Matilda of the brevity of her affair with him.
Margery gave him a poem and essay she’d written out in beautiful copperplate. But at the end of the sheet of paper was a tiny dog. It was depicted with such liveliness that Matilda exclaimed aloud when she saw it. “You have a talent, my dear, such a clever drawing!”
“I am always telling her so,” her father said proudly. “I have instructed her governess to give her extra drawing lessons.”
A sniff announced the presence of the governess in question. Harry straightened up and addressed her. “I trust my instructions are being carried out?”
“Naturally, your grace.” Risley did not crack a smile, but her demeanor demonstrated a pride in her charges. That augured well. Used to observing, Matilda needed only a small gesture to see the truth of a person.
Except for Harry. In public, he displayed nothing of himself. But in the bedroom and in the nursery, he revealed more of himself. His daughters were well cared for, despite having only their father.
*
The rest of the day had been taken up with churchgoing and conversation—sometimes at the same time. The huge dining table in the main dining room was extended to its fullest, adorned with crisp white linen and the house’s best crystal and silver.
But despite the pomp, the occasion was a happy one. Children were allowed downstairs, and families sat together. The noise was deafening.
Matilda had interesting companions at dinner. The local vicar proved a far more entertaining and lively person than he’d appeared in church. The squire was anything but the epitome of stupidity and stubbornness, despite the many satires aimed at the men of his kind. In other times, she’d have thoroughly enjoyed the dinner. But she couldn’t stop thinking of Harry, sneaking glances at him, although he never reciprocated.
Matilda was losing control of her emotions. Perhaps even of her mind. She had never felt like this before about anyone. Not even her childhood sweetheart, whose features she couldn’t recall any more.
Once, she’d thought she couldn’t live without him, that he was essential to her happiness. Now, she hardly thought about him at all. So much for everlasting love. Perhaps this time next year, she’d remember Harry with a dim warmth. A past love, that was all.
But no. He meant everything to her. She would never forget him, and a place in her heart would be forever his.
*
On the eighth day of Christmas, Matilda sought out Delphi. If Harry intended to offer for Delphi, Matilda had to break off the affair. For her own peace of mind, if nothing else. He’d come to her every night, giving her exquisite pleasure. They talked deep into the night, forcing Matilda to retire for a nap every afternoon, even though she had never done such a thing before.
Matilda couldn’t go on like this.
Delphi was enjoying a quiet time with a book in her room. Looking up, she smiled and put her book aside, waving to a spare seat.
Somehow, every room Delphi occupied ended up looking the same—furniture set in haphazard groups, piles of books on tables with notes stuck between the pages and scattered next to them. A desk, usually open and crammed with papers.
Matilda got straight to the point. “We’re all wondering about you and the duke.” Well, all the Dersinghams were, but Matilda had more reason than the others to wonder.
Delphi tilted her head to one side, the lopsided bun she must have created for herself tilting with it, threatening to unravel completely. “You mean the Duke of Trensom? There are so many dukes around these days, I’m never sure which one you’re talking about.”
“I mean Trensom,” said Matilda, trying to be her usual, cool self. Inside, she was a churning mass of nerves, her stomach threatening to remind her what she had for breakfast. “He’s been paying you particular attention, and you know why we’re here.”
Delphi nodded. “Yes. He seems to have discarded Dorcas rather quickly. I like him, and we do share an interest, which I believe is important in a man one is considering as a husband.” She bit her lip.
“What is it, dear?” Matilda prompted.
“Well…he’s a bit old,” Delphi said in a burst of feeling. She even removed her reading glasses.
“Really? He’s in his prime, I thought.”
“Well, yes, to you he is, because you are, too.”
Better than being called a hag. “Perhaps. I thought him a fine figure of a man.”
“And he’s awfully toplofty. Very stiff, you know?”
Matilda’s imagination took the double entendre Delphi had no idea she’d made and ran with it. “But he’s kind,” she managed to say.
“Yes. But to me…well, I have dreams. I daresay they won’t come to pass. The temptation of going to Rome, though…” She bit her lip. “It’s almost worth accepting him.”
“Has he asked?” Matilda queried, far too sharply.
Fortunately, Delphi didn’t seem to notice. She rarely noticed anything, unless it was written down in a book in minuscule
print. “Not as such, but he did say I might be able to come with him, in certain circumstances. I daresay that was what he meant.”
That he was going to propose.
And when he did so, whatever Matilda had with him would end. She would not do that to the people she regarded as her family.
Time to find that snug little house she’d been promising herself for years when they returned home. After Christmas.
*
One night, the tenth to be exact, she lay in her stiff duke’s arms and gazed up at him.
“When are you leaving?” he asked.
She forced a smile. “You are so keen to be rid of me?”
He hastened to reassure her. “No, never. But I would like to know.”
Instead of meeting his gaze, Matilda concentrated on toying with the hairs on his chest. “To count off the days?”
Pushing his fingers under her chin, he made her look at him. She could only try to hide her pain. “I’ve been thinking, Matilda. How do you feel about coming to Rome with us? Oh, I know classical Rome holds little interest for you but there is so much more. Dancing, balls, the aristocracy of Italy, every bit as proud as the British, but not as much as the French. New fashions, a new country. I would love you to come. And we could…” He bent for a soft kiss.
Matilda responded, because she couldn’t do anything else. But her mind was numb with pain.
She thought she knew him. How wrong she was!
Having an affair with him was bad enough, especially when he was supposed to be courting Delphi. But to continue as his mistress once he was married to Annie’s sister-in-law?
No, never. How could she even think such a thing? How could he think she wanted it?
Righteous anger filled her and the scales fell from her eyes. He was using her. He’d charmed her and taken advantage. Matilda had considered herself a woman of the world, up to all the rigs and games. She was wrong. Harry’s attitude showed her the rotten, corrupt world he belonged to.
Heedless of her nudity, she swept back the bedcovers and grabbed her robe from the back of her dressing table chair. She glared at him as she belted it around her, covering herself with dignity along with the silk. “I am going into the powder room. When I return, you will be gone. Or I will. Go with you to Rome on your honeymoon? How can you think it? How would you manage us both, your wife and your mistress?”
