Page 42 of A Duchess Untouched

Matthew did not flinch at Selina’s sharp tone. He had suspected she would behave this way after she downed so many glasses of wine. He was surprised that she still joined the game of charades after dinner.

He deserved the barb, yet he could not help but notice the flush on her cheeks, curious about how far it extended down her body and if her skin was as warm elsewhere as it appeared at that moment.

Even as she taunted him, he managed to keep his face an unyielding, cold mask. He knew how to hide his thoughts, but right now, he had to clench his jaw a little harder.

“Selina, please,” Harleigh called from the sideboard as he poured himself some barley water. Matthew suspected that his father-in-law wanted everyone to see what it was he was drinking. “What sort of behavior is that? It is a tad unbecoming for a lady to act like that, and you are a duchess!”

“I believe you must keep your opinions on female decorum to yourself, Harleigh,” Lady Marlow scolded. “You are the last man in London, or even on earth, qualified to lecture anyone on propriety! You have been a terrible example for your daughters all their lives!”

Harleigh was about to protest. However, Lady Marlow was quick to raise a finger at him. He closed his mouth again.

Meanwhile, Matthew’s attention was not on the bickering before him, but on his intoxicated wife.

“What are you looking at me for? Can you not guess what I am trying to say?” Selina asked.

He still did not answer. She stepped forward, opening her mouth as if to say something else. But her foot caught on a bump in the rug, and she stumbled, catching herself on a table. Matthew tensed, ready to lunge and catch her if necessary, but somehow managed to let her save herself.

Lady Marlow’s brows furrowed with concern. She turned to Oliver and said, “Oliver, do be a dear and help Selina up to her bedchambers. It seems she has indulged too much, taking up her father’s favorite habit. She has never done this before, and I am afraid of what it might do to her health.”

Oliver immediately rose from his chair, saying, “Of course, Lady Marlow.”

“That will not be necessary,” Matthew declared coldly.

He rose calmly to his feet. He knew Oliver was capable of helping, but the thought of another man touching Selina and supporting her as he guided her up the stairs stirred a territorial rage in him. It made no difference that the man was his own brother.

“I will ensure my wife is taken to bed,” he continued, evoking a tone that left no room for argument. “Maximus, stay here.”

Lady Marlow looked him in the eye and nodded. “Very well, then, Your Grace. Please take good care of her.”

Matthew moved to Selina’s side, slipped an arm around her waist, and steadied her by the elbow. The instant he touched her, a jolt of heat shot through him. Though drunk, his wife felt warm and smelled faintly of wine.

“Get your hands off me!” Selina tried to pull away, defiance surging through her body.

“If I do, you will fall flat on your face.” Matthew held her steady as they crossed the hall and climbed the staircase. He felt every sway of her body as she tried to control her movements, though the wine was likely making her head spin. Having her so close was sweet torture.

Finally, they reached her bedchambers. He ushered her inside and closed the door behind them. The room was quiet and warm, with the fire in the hearth glowing brightly.

Once Selina was standing beside her bed, Matthew finally let go of her gently. She swayed slightly but managed to stay upright. He folded his arms across his chest, resisting the urge to reach out and touch her again, since she clearly did not want him to.

“Why did you drink so much tonight, Selina?” he asked, his voice sounding sterner than he meant it to be. He realized that he was angry, and that it was, surprisingly, not at her but at himself. He had done this to her. He and his secrecy and his inability to stay and accept what she was offering.

Selina laughed bitterly as her eyes tried to focus on his face. “You have quite the nerve to pretend to care about what I do, Your Grace! If you must know, I often enjoy a nice glass of wine or two.”

“You had more than five glasses tonight, and I know all too well that you do not make a habit of drinking so heavily.”

“How would you know how I choose to generally spend my life when you have been barely there for the last few days, much less the last four years?”

“I might have been away a lot, but… I am not indifferent to you, Selina,” he admitted softly. “You affect me in more ways than I dare acknowledge.”

There were a few more words he still did not dare say aloud, like, You affect not just my work, but also my thoughts. My sanity. My heart…

“You, sir, have a strange way of showing it! You leave Wentley House whenever you please, without so much as a word. You disappeared again for two days, Lord knows where!”

“My time away from here had nothing to do with wanting to be far from you,” Matthew insisted. His mind wandered to Mary Wills, little Robert, and the memory of his late brother. His promise to him. Perhaps if he explained all about it to her, she would understand why he had to leave.

“Then what did it have to do with?” Selina demanded. “Do you plan to explain yourself, or do you simply expect me to trust you blindly, as a good wife should? I will not stand for being humiliated by you!”

“Selina, please. It is not as simple as that,” Matthew muttered, even as his eyes wandered down to her pale throat. To her collarbone, her breasts, and down some more.