Page 29 of A Duchess Untouched

I must earn my own happiness.

Matthew inhaled deeply, steadying himself with the cold focus that had been spurring him on for the past years.

“I will not lose my way again,” he promised the canvas. “I swear to you, Robert.”

Maximus barked at the portrait as if making his own promises.

“It looks like we must return to the study, Maximus,” Matthew said. “We must get back to work and finish with the accounts. Then, we shall look for more leads. We must have missed something.”

He felt a stronger sense of purpose as he turned on his heel and walked the path they had come through. He did not have to take that bath. All desire had evaporated from his skin. All that was in his mind now was the determination to take his brother’s mistress and child under his protection. They needed to be safe, lest he might be too late.

With quick strides, he soon reached the door of his study. However, before he could push it open, he heard voices coming from inside.

Is that Selina?

Chapter 14

“You are an absolute fool, Selina,” Selina muttered to herself.

After putting her father to bed, Selina was restless, pacing her bedchamber. She caught her reflection in the mirror. She looked pale, with dark circles under her eyes. In her opinion, she barely looked like a duchess, let alone the former Diamond of the Season.

After so many idle years, who knew she would be running out of time? She had done all that she could in her power, wearing gowns she deemed too scandalous, acting like a helpless maiden, and even sliding her foot onto the wrong brother’s leg. Still, her husband remained evasive as ever.

There was no time to linger on her failures, though, with only a few days left before he embarked on another journey. What could she do during that time? If she gave up on this, it was like giving up on the marriage. The Dowager would certainly have her claws out, trying to ensure the annulment would follow.

Selina reminded herself that the annulment meant not only losing her allowance but also that she could not support the widows in her charity. So many souls depended on her securing her position in the marriage.

“I need to do something…” she thought. “Something drastic.”

No, it was no longer about merely pleasing her grandmother. She knew she needed to find a new angle of attack. If she could not talk to him during the day, she should visit his bedchamber at this hour, wearing only a delicate linen nightgown that the moonlight could make translucent. She took a thin velvet robe to cover herself. She knew that if anyone caught her like that, it would be considered scandalous. Improper. But what else could she do?

Selina drew a long breath, squeezing her eyes shut, as she muttered, “I have to do this. I must see him.”

She stepped into the hallway and looked both ways. All she saw was darkness, and all she heard was silence. The music and chatter had stopped. Apparently, Antoinette’s friends had left hours ago. She could not blame those who had slipped away even earlier; her father’s drunken poetry was dreadful and would have embarrassed anyone but him. The household staff seemed to have retired, too. No one would see her up and about.

Even with the evidence that the household was abed, Selina’s heart hammered against her chest.

I am not doing anything wrong. I am a married woman visiting my husband.

Yet, the midnight hour gave the whole thing an illicit urgency. She held her breath as she pushed the door to Matthew’s bedchamber. It was open.

“Matthew?” she called out softly.

There was no answer. All she could hear was her heart hammering in her chest and the ticking of a clock from somewhere in the dimly lit room. At least the fire in the hearth was blazing, though a little half-heartedly, she would have to say.

She entered the room. It was only slightly larger than her own, but it felt cavernous, as if it were empty except for what was necessary: a massive four-poster bed, bed steps he did not really need, a nightstand, some books, and an area for changing with a wash basin. Yes, he had what he needed, but nothing more. It was as if the room had been stripped of personality. Everything seemed to have come with the room, as if inherited. There were no personal touches that showed who Matthew really was.

It made sense, though. He did not intend to stay in Wentley House. There was something else out there that was more important to him. And he had made it entirely clear that he intended to leave.

Tonight, it did not even look like he had been in his room at all. The bed covers were still untouched.

Where could he be at this hour?

Then she remembered that Oliver had mentioned Matthew had shut himself in his study. What kind of task did he give himself that it did not seem to end?

“I must go to his study, then,” she muttered.

Suddenly, she became more aware of what she was wearing. It was one thing to attempt to seduce her husband in his bedchamber while wearing her nightgown. His room was close enough to her own. Going to his study would involve more twists and turns and a greater chance of encountering someone else along the way.