Dunsaney's Desire (Historical Romance)

by Brianna York

  Matthew hesitated, his brows drawn down in thought. "Actually, I have no idea, Dobbs. It just...happened, I suppose.” He frowned at his reflection, as if looking for an answer that it did not contain. “Perhaps I was wrong about her all along. Perhaps I am doomed never to have that sort of love in my life”

  Dobbs was uncertain of how he was to reply to that. Sighing, he decided that he should not have brought the subject up at all. “I am sorry, Your Grace. It truly was none of my concern.”

  Matthew shook his head firmly. “Nonsense, Dobbs. It is a fact, and it happened, and I am not going to pretend that it did not.” Dobbs regarded the steely face of his employer, its elegant lines harshly set against a pain that he intended to fight and conquer. He realized abruptly that there was no one in the world whom he admired more.

  “Will you be needing anything else, Your Grace?” Dobbs asked briskly to cover his own slightly flustered emotions.

  Matthew smiled fondly at his valet. “No, Dobbs. I am as ready as I shall ever be.”

  Dobbs nodded soberly. "Will you carry my most sincere best wishes and fond hopes to Lady Alexandra and Baron Tyndale?"

  Matthew turned around and nodded, the same gentle smile on his face. Dobbs wished that he did not feel as if he, who had not suffered a grave injury of the sort Matthew had only just begun to endure, were the one gaining strength from the severely composed features of his employer. “I shall be happy to perform that service for you, Dobbs.”

  Dobbs watched his employer leave the room, his broad shoulders rigidly squared and his footsteps light. He screwed the lid back onto the pomade jar, rubbed a spot off the mirror with his sleeve, and nodded his satisfaction. At least everything was it should be here. He was not so sure, however, about the rest of Matthew’s life.

  ∞∞∞

  Matthew bounded down the stairs two at a time, his dogs capering at his heels. In the foyer, he snapped his fingers to claim the dogs’ attention, then led them to the library. “I am sorry, boys, but you would be underfoot for the wedding I am afraid,” he apologized as he patted both animals on the head before leaving the room and drawing the doors closed behind him. He turned around to make his way to the ballroom where the guests were no doubt just beginning to gather for the wedding and nearly fell over Rosalind, who had placed herself directly behind him and was staring up at him with luminous eyes.

  “Oh! Hello, Roz,” he managed in a reasonably normal tone of voice despite the jar she had given his nerves.

  “Hello, Matthew,” she said with a bright smile. “The guests are arriving now.”

  “I presumed so,” Matthew agreed. “I was on my way to the ball room to receive them properly. Would you like to accompany me?”

  Rosy nodded eagerly and accepted his arm. As he led her to the ballroom, Rosy tried not to stare at him too much, but it was very hard. Perhaps, since that very pretty girl had had the lack of common sense to marry him, Matthew might be “back on the market” as her mother often put it. Rosy knew that her mother wanted her to marry a man of the same stature as Matthew, but she had no idea how one went about “catching” such a man as the Duke. Rosy’s mother often lamented that her only daughter had not one bit of feminine guile in her repertoire. Rosy had never really minded until now.

  “Ah, there you are Rosalind!” Rob exclaimed when Matthew led the girl into the ballroom. “Your parents have arrived and they were most worried about you, I might add.”

  Rosy looked properly bashful, scuffing her toe back and forth across the smoothly-polished floor. “I am sorry for all the trouble that I have been. I just wished to ask Alex a question, but I suppose that I shall not even be able to do that now.”

  Rob chuckled, taking pity on her. “I am sure that Alex will be able to discuss anything you wish after the wedding has taken place. Shall I take you to your parents?” he offered his arm and Rosy smiled brilliantly at him, slipped her fingers onto it and allowed herself to be led away from Matthew across the crowded room. Matthew watched them for a moment, shaking his head a bit at Rosalind’s unconventional streak, then scanned the rest of the room.

  Alex had written the invitations up herself with painstaking care and seen that they were all delivered posthaste so that the recipients would have time to work her wedding ceremony into their busy schedules. It appeared that a great many of the people that she had invited had made the time to show up. He took out his pocket watch and flipped open the lid. It was just about time for the ceremony to begin. He decided to go and check on his sister.

  “Alex?” he inquired, knocking at her door gently.

  “Yes? Matthew?” she called.

  “Might I come in?” he called back. He heard her approach the door and then it opened to reveal his sister, resplendent in a simple white gown that made her hair seem very red and her eyes very blue.

  “You look magnificent,” Matthew complimented her, putting voice to his thoughts. He took her hand and twirled her around slowly. “My friend does not yet realize how very lucky he is.”

  “I shall make sure that he does before long,” she replied with a saucy wink.

  Matthew laughed, then said, “It is nearly time for the ceremony to begin. Are you ready?”

  She nodded, a soft, contented smile on her face. “I am. Have you seen Forrest?”

  Matthew shook his head. “No.”

  Alex frowned slightly. “He went out for a ride, but he should have returned by now.”

  Feeling a bit uneasy, Matthew nodded and strode down the hall. He reached the door of the room that Forrest had been borrowing while he stayed at Matthew’s house, and knocked sharply. “Forrest?” he called. He waited for a moment, then tapped again, louder this time. “Forrest, it’s time for the wedding to begin.” Feeling really uneasy now, he tried the handle and found that the door was not locked. He pushed the door open to reveal an empty room. Frowning, he shut the door and started down the hall.

  “Where are you going?” Alex called after him.

  “To the stables,” he replied. “I want to know if he has returned or not.”

  Alex watched her brother bound down the stairs and frowned uneasily. It was not like Forrest to be anything but punctual. Years in the army had made him nearly as accurate a timepiece as any clock. She felt a nudging at her hand and looked down to see Ophelia wagging her tail hopefully and staring up out of soulful eyes at her mistress. “You don’t suppose that Forrest has gone and gotten cold feet, do you?” she asked her dog, stroking its head distractedly.

  “I suppose that you would not know any more than I do,” Alex said after a moment of watching her dog wag its tail with pleasure and snuffle at her hand. She sighed and wandered across the room to the window seat and perched uneasily on the edge of it. She was still there when Matthew returned. She glanced up hopefully but felt her heart sink at the bleak look on her brother’s face.

  “He went out an hour ago and has not yet returned,” he informed her, setting to pacing back and forth across her room.

  Alex watched him for a long moment. “Do you suppose that something has happened to him?” she made herself ask.

  Matthew halted in his pacing for a moment as he mulled over that possibility. “I suppose that it is possible, but Apollo is never anything but gentlemanly.”

  Alex nodded in reply because she had already deduced the same thing. She clasped her hands together tightly to keep herself still. She watched Matthew pace back and forth for a few more minutes, then said, “For pity’s sake, Matthew, do sit down and stop pacing. You are going to wear a hole in the rug.”

  With a gusty sigh Matthew did as she bade, sitting tensely in the chair that sat before her dressing table. He stared for a moment at the assortment of items on the table, then picked up a hat pin and began tapping it impatiently against the edge of the table. Alex shook her head ruefully, unsure which was more distracting; his pacing or his tapping.

  “I suppose that you need to go and entertain the guests so that they do not begin to suspect somethi
ng is amiss,” Alex said then, her voice sounding tight, but otherwise normal.

  Matthew glanced at her, nodded and rose. “I will return just as soon as I have pacified the guests,” he assured her, favoring her with a gentle smile before he spun around and left her room.

  Alone again, Alex fingered the radiant whiteness of her gown and tried not to be angry at her betrothed. Surely he had a good reason for his tardiness. Surely there was some legitimate reason that he had not returned from his ride on time. However, the more that she thought about the situation the more she became certain that there was no good reason for his absence.

  It was unlike him to be so cruel as to not even leave her note informing her that he intended to jilt her, but then again, she mused, he had not been himself for most of the span of their brief engagement. She rose jerkily and wandered aimlessly about the room, attempting to distract herself with little success.

  Twenty-Five

  M

  atthew entered the ballroom with some trepidation. As he had expected, he drew a surreptitious glance from everyone in the room. He spotted Rob talking to Marcus across the room and made for them.

  “Are the bride and groom quite ready?” Rob asked cheerily as Matthew approached. “It is time for the ceremony to start, is it not?” It was then that he caught sight of the expression on Matthew’s face. “Matthew? Is something the matter?”

  Matthew ignored the curious stares trained on his person. He crooked a finger at his friends, inviting them closer to him. Once they were close enough to hear him whisper, he said quietly, “Forrest has not returned from his morning ride. I think something may have happened to him.”

  “Or he has gone and gotten cold feet yet again,” Marcus said snidely. Matthew turned such a chilly glare on the other man that he ceased smiling and fell silent.

  “I am going to go and look for him in the park. I want one of you to go with me and the other to stay here and pacify the guests.” He glanced meaningfully at Rob then, knowing that his affable friend was the best choice for the duty of keeping the guests in order.

  Rob nodded swiftly. “I shall take care of things here. You two go and search for the groom.”

  Matthew nodded. “Thank you, Rob. Marcus?”

  “Let’s be off,” Marcus agreed, falling into step beside his friend.

  “I am going to tell Alex what we are doing,” Matthew informed Marcus. “You go and get some horses saddled for us.”

  “Right.” Marcus nodded tersely and separated from his friend.

  Matthew went to his room first and gathered his greatcoat and a pair of gloves, then he strode quickly down the hall to his sister’s room. “Alex?” he called.

  The door swung open immediately. Alex was blanched to a paleness that attempted to outdo her ivory dress. She noted her brother’s coat and gloves immediately. “You are going to look for him,” she whispered. “Wait a moment and I shall change my clothes and go with you.” She made to turn around, but Matthew caught her shoulder.

  “No, Alex,” he told her firmly. “There isn’t time. Marcus and I alone will be able to deal with the situation. Besides,” he said smiling at her fondly. “I refuse to have you taking cold simply because Forrest has chosen to make a mess of things.”

  Alex glared at her brother for a moment, obviously meaning to protest, but then her expression softened and she nodded regretfully. “You are right, Matthew.”

  “That’s my girl,” he said bracingly, leaning down and kissing her cheek. “Be back in a trice.” He turned around swiftly, his greatcoat swirling around him, and then he was gone. Alex stared at the empty doorway, feeling very alone and suddenly very frightened.

  Matthew stepped into the wet street, pulling on his gloves briskly. He saw Marcus just emerging from the stables leading a dark bay horse that Matthew had fondly named Hercules due to the animal’s unusual height and mass. William was a few steps behind with Deuce.

  “I thought that Hercules would be the steadiest mount in the stable,” Marcus said as Matthew strode up to the horses.

  Matthew nodded curtly. “I agree,” he replied. “Thank you William,” he told the coachman, taking Deuce’s reins from the man, slipping them over the horse’s head and swinging aboard in one seamlessly smooth motion. Marcus was only a bit slower to mount than Matthew, partially due to the height of his horse, and Matthew had only to wait a moment before the other man nodded at him and they set off at a cautious trot.

  “Don’t you suppose that Apollo would have come back home if he had somehow managed to throw Forrest?” Marcus asked Matthew as they trotted side by side.

  Matthew’s shrug showed itself more in the expression on his face than in his shoulders. “If the horse is hurt he might not be able to make his way home.” He felt his heart twist at the thought of either his best friend or his favorite horse being injured.

  Marcus nodded. “I had not thought of that.”

  They crossed Park Lane after waiting for a passing carriage and entered the park. “Where shall we begin?” Marcus asked his friend.

  “The Row,” Matthew said without hesitation, meaning Rotten Row, the sandy track best suited to a good gallop. “Apollo is not enjoyable to ride unless he has had a chance to gallop out a bit.” Marcus followed Matthew and Deuce into a canter and the pair headed for the tree-lined galloping lane. Matthew slowed to a trot once they set foot upon the groomed path that was the Row itself. His sharp eyes scanned both sides of the path as they trotted along. They rode in silence along the entire length of the riding path, then turned and rode back, Matthew feeling frustration welling up in him. When they had reached the end of the path again, Matthew halted, his mouth set in grim lines.

  “Let’s ride along the edge of the serpentine,” he said to Marcus tersely.

  “Would he had ridden that far off the path?” Marcus wanted to know.

  Matthew shot him an irritated glance. “Perhaps.” Marcus rolled his eyes in some annoyance before following Deuce and Matthew off the path. The Serpentine stretched flat and clear as a mirror beneath the overcast sky. Matthew eased Deuce into a walk and scanned the terrain before him with narrowed eyes, his gaze traveling to the serpentine itself every so once and while. They traveled around the short end of the canal, and turned to follow its length again.

  “Across the bridge?” Marcus asked Matthew as they approached Hyde Park Bridge which crossed the serpentine and led one toward the Kensington Gardens. Matthew thought a moment. The canal extended some beyond the bridge, but he doubted if Forrest would have ridden so far away from the main paths as that. Finally he nodded at Marcus and the other man guided Hercules toward the bridge.

  “Wait!” Matthew said abruptly, and Marcus halted his mount, an inquiring look on his face. Matthew’s eyes were narrowed in concentration as he strained his ears for the sound that he had heard a moment earlier. He did not have to wait long before there was a rustle in the bushes to the right of the foot of the bridge. Deuce’s ears pricked sharply and he whickered gently. There was an answering whinny from the bushes and Matthew turned his horse off the path and rode into the cluster of bushes.

  Apollo stood in the middle of the shrubs, cropping grass and flicking his ears back and forth nervously. Upon catching sight of Deuce, he attempted to trot toward the other horse, but quickly halted after a few floundering lame steps and held his left front leg in the air in an attempt to alleviate the discomfort it was causing him.

  “Thank God!” Marcus exclaimed from behind Matthew, sliding from his horse and walking up to take Apollo’s dangling reins.

  “Forrest?” Matthew shouted, the horse forgotten. “Forrest!” he called again, riding forward through the bushes towards the edge of the canal. “Forrest!” he shouted, feeling chilled by his friend’s silence. He rode around the edge of a clump of bushes, his eyes turned to the right, when suddenly his horse snorted sharply and leapt into the air, twisting himself to the side as he jumped and landing quivering a few feet from where he had originally stood. Matth
ew had not been prepared for such a sudden movement, but he had not been badly unseated. He turned Deuce around to see what had spooked him so badly, and sucked in a sharp breath.

  “Forrest!” He kicked his feet free of the stirrups and leapt to the ground. “Marcus! Over here!” he shouted to his friend as he knelt beside Forrest. His friend lay sprawled face down on the damp grass, obviously unconscious. Matthew reached out and gently rolled his friend over, fearing the worst until Forrest’s features contorted slightly with pain and he moaned softly.

  “Jesus, Forrest,” Matthew breathed in relief, running his eyes over his friend’s body looking for obvious injuries. He saw nothing that cried out of a terrible injury, but just because there was no blood to be seen did not mean that Forrest was not gravely wounded.

  “Matthew?” Forrest asked as Marcus joined them. He sounded like his mouth was stuffed with cotton.

  “Yes, Forrest. What happened old man?” Matthew asked his friend.

  “Not...the horse’s....fault,” Forrest croaked out, his eyes fluttering open to stare at Matthew with a slightly unfocused air.

  Matthew managed a tight chuckle. “I don’t care at this point, old man,” he said to his friend. He glanced up at Marcus. “Get the carriage and bring William with you to walk Apollo home,” he said.

  “Right,” Marcus answered, swinging up onto Hercules and cantering briskly away. Apollo whinnied plaintively at Hercules and attempted to follow the other horse before stopping short and waving his injured leg in the air again.

  “Whoa,” Matthew said firmly to the horse, who glanced at him, shifted uneasily, then obeyed and fell to cropping the grass again. “Can you move your legs, Forrest?” Matthew asked his friend.

  Forrest blinked as if to clear his vision, then proved that he could move both legs. Matthew had not realized that he had feared the worst until he felt relief flooding through him. “Good,” he managed to say. “Anything hurt too terribly badly?”