Page 62 of A Duchess Untouched

“I am proud of the man you have become, Matthew,” she confirmed, even as her eyes shimmered with tears. “You took responsibility by accepting the title you never wanted. Even when you disappeared for years, you always ensured the estates ran seamlessly. Even when you were away, you worked hard to make good on Wentley House. You have always cared for Oliver. You are an honorable man.”

A ragged, shaky breath escaped Matthew. He still flinched from her touch. As the middle child, he had not felt as important as Robert and Oliver. That made him seek external pleasures, not that being a rake could be wholly blamed on someone else. He had chosen that route and would continue paying for it.

“Mother, I must confess I do not know what kind of man I have become,” Matthew admitted, his voice cracking. He was no longer the steady man who could hide his feelings. Selina had wrecked him. “I am now hollow, a husk of a man. I truly believed my wife cared for me, or at least had learned to. I thought she saw me as worth loving, but I was merely a means to an end. It pains me to think she only feigned affection to secure her position.”

Antoinette looked at her son with a frown. Matthew would like to believe that it was maternal concern she felt for him, the one thing he had craved from her his whole life.

“Whatever has happened between you and your wife…” she began. “Selina would not have left you without cause, Matthew. It is time you found out what that is.”

Matthew’s mind rebelled at that. Did he not know why she left? He had heard what Selina had said to her grandmother and sisters. She did not want anything to do with him. He had been ready to confront her about it, too, but then Oliver had come to tell him that Mary had finally agreed to speak with him. By the time he returned home, Selina had already been gone.

“I cannot bring myself to face her,” he said, but the confession split him in half. “I cannot look into her eyes to confirm the truth. It might hurt even more. I will not be able to bear it.”

Antoinette took a long breath. This time, Matthew could hear her pain. The woman who often entertained herself with soirees was also unraveling.

“Waiting has never once served you well, Matthew,” she reminded him. “You ought to know that better now.”

What was he waiting for? He wanted to wait until he could speak with Mary Wills before talking to Selina, but that had not produced the results he wanted. Perhaps his mother was right.

“Go to her, Matthew,” his mother urged. “From what I can see on your face, you do not want to lose her for good.”

“I hope you are saying that because you care for me, and not merely because you wish to have your grandchild around,” Matthew said, attempting humor.

“Well, I cannot bear to see my own son drinking himself to death because of heartbreak, but I will not be able to survive having my grandson be raised by Margaret Marlow. Bring her back home, Matthew.”

With that, his mother swept out of the room, and Matthew was left standing on the rug for quite some time. His mind wandered to all sorts of terrible things until Maximus began tugging at his side with a paw.

“You are right as always, my boy. I should never have let her go.”

He should have confronted her first. He should have asked how she could make love to him and bear his child without feeling anything for him.

“Damn it!” Matthew roared, his frustration erupting in one explosive motion. He threw everything off his desk with one arm. Decanters and glasses shattered, while ledgers and correspondence flew into the air.

Matthew breathed heavily as he scanned his ruined desk and inhaled the strong scent of spilled brandy on his rug. His hands clenched into fists while his shoulders shook. Maximus hid under the desk as if to protect himself.

“I am sorry, Maximus. I did not wish to frighten you.” Matthew approached the desk to pet his beloved dog.

Then he saw a piece of pink paper. It had flown with the rest of his correspondence, but its bright color made it easy to spot.

His heart hammering in his chest, he bent down to pick it up from the fallen stack of receipts and notices. He saw that it was hastily sealed with red wax. It was Selina’s seal.

Matthew’s hands shook as he unfolded the letter.

Matthew,

I am leaving you this letter to offer an explanation for my abrupt departure, not to seek one. No explanation on your part could repair what had already been broken. Though we had been strangers throughout the first four years of our marriage, we had endeavored to build trust between us—or so I believed.

I am not proud of the circumstances in which I was chosen to be your wife. I was a naive debutante, willing to marry anyone who made me an offer. In time, I became a resentful and neglected spouse. When you returned to London, I hoped we might have an opportunity to establish a home founded on partnership, if not on love.

My discovery of a certain resident at Essex House was incidental. I am aware of your correspondence and your attempted visits. I know that the woman in question has a five-year-old son.

My discovery shattered my hope that our marriage was genuine. I now understand the true focus of your devotion, and I find myself unable to reproach you. I shall fulfill my responsibilities to this family and carry the child I am expecting to term. I will care for this child and ensure that he knows love from the very beginning. However, I refuse to be a burden to you. I bear you no ill will, but I would rather leave entirely than share my husband with another woman.

Selina

Matthew stared at the letter. The color was bright and cheerful, but its contents were anything but. He felt the blood drain from his face. Everything around him seemed to sway as he tried to keep his balance.

What is she saying?