Page 45 of A Duchess Untouched

“Was Wentley House always this quiet when you were a boy?” Selina asked, tying a green bow around a jar of jam. She was delighted to discover she had more ribbons—not only for the basket handles, but for the jars and the blocks, too. The baskets got the large red bows.

Matthew paused, looking in the distance, with a block of soap in one large hand. “No, it was not. When Robert and I were small boys, the house was loud. He was fond of running along the corridors while I loved chasing after him. Sometimes, we would break things. I am certain our mother was relieved when Oliver turned out to be quieter.”

“What about your father?” Selina prodded, giving herself no time to overthink her questions.

“My father was a typical duke,” Matthew said. “He expected us to be perfect. He focused most of his attention on Robert, as the heir. Robert did everything he could to please our father. Meanwhile, Mother doted on Oliver, both because he was the youngest and because he was often unwell.”

“What was it like for you to grow up being the middle child?”

Matthew let out a bitter chuckle. “Selina, I was not given much thought, being a spare. I developed rakish ways, drinking and… living a debauched life. It drew some attention, the wrong kind, from my parents. I imagine they were both ashamed and disappointed in me. How about you? What is it like to live with a man like your father?”

Selina had to pause before replying. Her thoughts were still on his story about his relationship with his parents. His childhood had not sounded very happy after all. She wondered how much of it had led him to drift with the wind, unwilling to settle in one place.

“Papa is an exhausting man, as you have probably deduced,” she admitted with a huff. “When our mama died, he became the man everyone knows him to be. He completely unraveled. Though he owned property and had a good income, he could no longer manage his affairs, and creditors came knocking. My sisters and I watched furniture and other possessions being taken from us. I thought he would be better now that we are all grown, but I was wrong. I do not know what we would have done without Grandmama and Grandpapa.”

“You had to experience all that at such a young age,” Matthew murmured, his brows furrowed, even as his hands continued to work on the baskets. They were almost done.

“I suppose we both experienced childhoods we believe we do not deserve,” Selina said.

“I suppose.”

They finished the last basket and placed it beside the others on a long bench. With the task complete, Selina exhaled, grateful for Matthew’s help. Thanks to him, she had something to send to the widows and still had a few hours to rest.

The air between them had shifted after their conversation and proximity, though. She no longer felt the urge to run, yet something a little dangerous was quivering in the air.

“Selina,” Matthew began. She could feel that he wanted to say something important. “Do you want to talk about the other night?”

Selina’s heart sank fast into her stomach, and her hands went cold. She looked down and away from him.

Mortification threatened to drown her, but she kept her head high.

“I was drunk,” she said softly, recalling and feeling her humiliation. “I should not have put my hands on you in such a manner. I apologize for avoiding you all those days, but I could not face you. I should never have—”

“Selina, stop,” Matthew said. “That is not why I asked if you wanted to talk about it.” He reached for her hands. “You have nothing to be ashamed of, but I understand your frustration and confusion. You do not know why I am acting the way I am.”

“Then will you tell me why?” Selina cried, pulling her hands away from his, even though they felt comfortable there. “What has kept you from taking me up on it that night or any other night? Why have you not tried to be a proper husband to me? I feel as if you push me away every time we get too close.”

Matthew let out a ragged exhale. “Because for four years, I have persuaded myself that I have no right to be happy. I cannot enjoy my marriage or love my wife.”

“Why would you think that?” she asked, her chest tightening at the raw agony on his face. She also wanted to ask him about the woman he had been looking for, but she was not sure she could bear to hear his reply.

“Because of Robert,” he replied, his voice barely above a whisper. “We were in a carriage accident six years ago. I was drunk and acting foolishly. Even though I should not have, I took over the reins of the carriage. We left the coachman behind. The poor man was terrified, and rightly so. Because I was not in my right senses, I was unable to maneuver the carriage properly.” Matthew squeezed his eyes shut, as if trying to forget the visions of that fateful night. “The carriage overturned and crushed Robert. He… He died in the mud, bleeding. Because of me.”

A tear rolled down Selina’s cheek. She was not certain whether she was crying for the dead brother or for the brother who was being tortured alive by the past. Perhaps she was crying for both.

“My father and my mother might not have said it aloud, but it was my fault. Everything. The wrong son had survived. The heir died that night. I was eventually given the title to bear, but I do not believe I deserve it. I carry out my responsibilities, yet it feels as if I do not deserve it.”

Selina reached up, resting a palm against his stubbled jaw. He opened his eyes and looked at her.

“Listen to me,” she said fiercely. “Punishing yourself for six years has not brought and will never bring Robert back. All it does is make you completely miserable.”

Matthew leaned into her touch, his hands reaching for her before settling on her hips. She let him. She liked his weight against her skin, liked that he was using her as an anchor.

“I have done my best to live in misery all those years, but God help me, Selina…” he rasped, his eyes locked on hers. “Being near you these past few days makes it impossible for me to remember why I thought I owed anyone my misery. You make me want to feel something else. Not just continuous torture and pain. But perhaps I should put an end to it all.”

“W-what does that mean, Matthew?” Selina demanded, even as his fingers dug deep into her hips.

His eyes had darkened, his pupils dilating. He seemed to be losing the last of his self-control.