by Wolf, Bree
His wife swallowed, then nodded her head almost imperceptibly.
“I admit,” Matthew said, leaning forward as he glanced around the room in a fairly obvious way, “that I’ve been waiting by the door.”
At his admission, her eyes widened−if in alarm or merely in surprise, he could not say.
Smiling, he held her gaze. “I missed your company this afternoon.”
She seemed to grow rigid, and yet, there was doubt in her eyes.
“Do you doubt my words?” he challenged teasingly.
“No, of course not, my lord,” she hastened to answer. “I simply…”
“But you do not believe me.”
“I…” Swallowing, she wrung her hands, her gaze slowly finding his. “I apologise I’m late.”
“Don’t,” Matthew insisted, feeling a hint of anger rise at the sight of what her father’s influence had done to her. “I am not angry or upset or disappointed or anything like that because you are late. If at all, I’m angry that you would apologise.”
Her brows drew down into a frown, and her eyes searched his face with a bit more determination.
Matthew sighed, “The way you apologise−in such a fearful way−only makes me wonder what I did wrong to instil such fear in you. I never wanted you to apologise. I only ever wanted you to come home and tell me about your day. Would you do that?”
Unable to make out all the many emotions that had flitted across her face at his explanation, Matthew breathed a sigh of relief when she finally nodded, the tension in her body receding. “I would.”
“Good.” Stepping forward, he offered her his hand. “Would you like to change, or shall we go in to supper?”
For a moment, she hesitated, clearly worried that he might disapprove if she sat down to supper in a dress with a dusty hem, but then she smiled−even if timidly−and said, “I admit I’m quite famished.”
“Then let’s eat,” Matthew exclaimed, accepting her hand and guiding her toward the dining room. She still seemed tense, and yet, it was nothing compared to the terror he had seen in her in the beginning of their acquaintance.
Step by step, Matthew reminded himself as he escorted her to her chair. Catching his mother’s watchful eye, he smiled at her before seating himself.
Unfortunately, a bit of an uncomfortable silence fell over the room as they began to eat, and Matthew racked his mind over how to put his wife at ease. Strangely enough, he felt a bit self-conscious at his mother’s presence.
“How was your afternoon, my dear?” his mother finally asked, shooting him a knowing glance.
Rolling his eyes at himself, Matthew focused his attention on his wife as she glanced a bit nervously from his mother to him.
“We went to Hyde Park,” she began. “Lady Elton and I.”
“It was a beautiful day for a stroll, was it not?” his mother commented, an encouraging smile on her face, and Matthew wondered at the woman she had become since her father’s passing. It was quite remarkable!
His wife nodded, and for a second he thought to see a hint of hesitation on her face as though she was contemplating what to share with them. “We met my mother and grandmother there,” she finally said, her gaze meeting his mother’s instead of his, and he wondered why. “They went for a walk with…Mathilda.”
For a moment, his wife’s gaze dropped to her plate, and Matthew could see that what she had just revealed to them was not only a matter of great importance but also of concern to her.
“Mathilda?” his mother asked. “I must say I’m not familiar with that name. Pray tell, who is she?”
“Tillie,” Matthew whispered as a memory surfaced. A memory of his wife speaking to a little girl with black curls and a mischievous twinkle in her eyes.
At the sound of his voice, his wife’s gaze jerked up and met his, her eyes wide as she drew in a deep breath. Her fingers tensed around the fork in her hand, and she swallowed. “Yes, Tillie.”
“Tillie?” his mother enquired once more, a hint of an amused smile on her face. “I’m afraid I’m still lost.”
Seeing the tension on his wife’s face, Matthew said, “She’s a little girl I met when I called on Lord Radcliff to inform him of my intention to marry his daughter.” A slight blush came to his wife’s face at the mention of their wedding. “You seemed close,” he observed. “Who was she?”
His wife swallowed, then licked her lips. “She is…my brother’s daughter.”
“Your brother’s?” Glancing to the side, Matthew saw a frown coming to his mother’s face. “I thought your brother was still unmarried.”
The very moment his wife blushed, once more lowering her head, his mother’s eyes widened. “Oh! I see.”
Finally understanding the nervousness that hung about his wife like a thick fog, Matthew sighed in relief. Certainly, it was far from commendable to have an illegitimate child. However, he knew from personal experience that children had no influence over their parents’ actions. It would be wrong to blame little Tillie for her father’s indiscretion.
“I remember her fondly,” he said, smiling. “She had quite the spirit for such a young girl.”
A deep smile claimed his wife’s face at the thought of Tillie, and for a moment, Matthew could not help but envy the little girl. What he would not give to be the one to make his wife smile like that?
“Yes, she is rather headstrong,” his wife admitted, her eyes glowing as she spoke, “but sweet and affectionate.”
“You miss her,” Matthew observed, realising that with no mother present−as far as he knew−his wife had probably been the one to take over Tillie’s care. She was a born mother with her kind soul and gentle ways.
“I do,” she whispered, bowing her head as the deep smile was chased away by a look of utter sadness.
Matthew’s heart twisted painfully in his chest. “You must invite her over,” he said, “so we can all meet her.”
Slowly, his wife lifted her gaze to his, her own filled with fearful hope as she studied his face. “You would not mind?”
Matthew smiled. “Children are a delight, and this house has resembled a tomb for far too long. Please, bring her. Perhaps her presence will reawaken all of us.”
“Thank you,” his wife breathed, her voice barely audible as she blinked back tears. Her hand trembled as she moved the fork to her plate, and Matthew was awed by the deep emotions he saw on her face. He had only ever seen her in fear or behind a carefully maintained mask of indifference. Utter joy and relief that gripped her body in such a way that he would feel its effect even across the table made him speechless. What other passions slumbered in his wife’s heart?
Sitting back, Matthew sighed. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught his mother smile at him, her own face speaking of the same stunned surprise he felt himself.
The next afternoon, Matthew invited his wife to have tea with him. Although she looked mildly surprised, she agreed without hesitation. That alone warmed his heart. As they sat together, he once more asked her about Tillie, remembering how deeply the little girl had touched her heart.
“My grandmother has agreed to bring her by in a few days,” she said, a hint of a question in her tone of voice.
“Wonderful,” Matthew beamed, watching her relax. “I cannot wait to meet her…for real this time. She sounds like an entertaining child.”
His wife laughed. She laughed! Matthew watched her rather thunderstruck. “That she is, but she is a handful. My mother says she’s never met a child with less inclination to learn.”
Matthew chuckled. “I do not believe that can be true. After all, children are so adept at learning. Simply think of all the thousands of things they learn when so young. Never again are we capable of opening our mind to new things than we are at that age.”
Sobering, his wife watched him. “That is true. I often envy her the innocent way with which she looks at the world. That and her courage.”
Remembering how the little girl had held his gaze, Matthew nodded. “She
did seem rather brave.”
Pride shone in his wife’s gaze as she nodded. “She does not…bow her head,” Adelaide mumbled as though to herself. “She does what she pleases, and she learns what she deems worth learning. She does not allow anyone to change her.”
“It sounds like you admire her,” Matthew observed, carefully dipping the tip of his finger into his tea without his wife noticing in order to check the temperature.
“I do,” she whispered. Blinking, she met his gaze. “I can only hope that growing up she can hold on to that strength−wherever she found it−for it’s impossible to retrieve once it’s lost.”
“Not impossible,” Matthew replied as he leaned forward, cup in hand, and then poured his tea over his wife’s arm, soaking her sleeve and staining the pale blue fabric.
Adelaide sucked in a sharp breath and jerked back her arm, her eyes going wide before they returned to meet his. For a moment, she simply stared at him. But then her gaze hardened, chasing away the confusion that had been there before. “You did this on purpose?”
Somewhat disappointed with her lack of a reaction, Matthew sat back, grinning. “Are you certain?”
Her gaze narrowed as she fingered the wet fabric nervously. “Why would you do this?”
Still grinning, Matthew lifted his brows.
Instantly, her mouth fell open. “This is a game to you,” she gasped. “You could have burnt me?” A touch of hurt came to her tone.
“I made certain the tea was not hot enough. I assure you, my lady, I would never do anything to harm you, to cause you pain,” Matthew vowed, his gaze free of humour as he looked at her.
Her brows crinkled, and for a moment, he thought she would roll her eyes at him. “However, you do believe it right to pour your tea on me and ruin my dress?”
Delighted with the hint of annoyance in her voice, Matthew nodded. “Surely you must admit that it was a good plan. Few people enjoy being doused with tea.” Grinning, he watched her, noting the slight crinkles that came to the corners of her mouth as though she wished to smile.
Not quite what he had hoped for, but perhaps humour was better than anger after all.
Inhaling a deep breath, she seemed to be striving to calm herself. “You planned this,” she said, a bit of an accusing tone in her voice. “What kind of a husband would plan to pour tea on his wife?”
Matthew shrugged. “The kind that wishes to anger his wife, no doubt.”
“Have you still not given up on this?”
“Why would I?” he demanded as her eyes lit up with something he had only once glimpsed there before. “It is most entertaining.”
At his words, she truly did roll her eyes at him. “If you’ll excuse me, my lord,” she began, rising from the settee, “I’ll have to change.”
Pushing to his feet, Matthew stepped in her path, noting the way her eyes widened a fraction as she looked up at him in question. “I know that you have great control over your emotions,” he whispered as though confessing a secret, “but will you at least admit that you felt something right then and there? Will you at least admit that it angered you that I did this?”
Her lips pressed into a thin line as she held his gaze.
“Did this annoy you?”
She swallowed. “Yes.”
“Did it upset you?” he asked, his feet moving closer as he held her gaze, feeling a stronger connection to her than before.
“Yes.”
“Did it anger you?”
Gritting her teeth, she stared up at him, and he could see that she was loathe to admit her true emotions. “Yes, it did anger me,” she finally said, her voice harsh and without fear. “I am angry with you for toying with me. I’m angry because this is a game to you. I’m angry because…” Her voice trailed off, and she dropped her gaze.
“Because?” Matthew prompted, feeling his breath stuck in his throat as he prayed that she would answer.
His wife swallowed and inhaled a deep breath. Then she pushed back her shoulders and met his gaze anew, her own reluctant and yet unwavering. “Because you know me so well,” she whispered. “How can you know me so well?”
“Do you mind?” Matthew asked, overwhelmed by the way she looked at him. Never before had she held his gaze quite like this.
“I don’t know,” his wife replied, doubt in her pale blue eyes. “Those who know us well are those who can hurt us the most.”
Matthew nodded. “You’re not wrong,” he said, remembering the way his father had manipulated him with ease. “And yet, is it reason enough never to allow anyone to come close? Would you tell Tillie not to open her heart to anyone for fear of having it broken?”
Her jaw quivered as she drew in a deep breath, her eyes misting as they remained on his. “She deserves to be happy.”
“As do you.”
Her breath caught, and she dropped her gaze, stepping away. “I need to change,” she hastened to say as her feet increased the distance between them.
“We’re invited to a ball tonight,” Matthew called out before she had reached the door.
Stopping in her tracks, she turned to look at him. “Tonight?”
He nodded.
“Why did you not tell me this bef−?” Her voice trailed off as she closed her eyes, shaking her head. “Will you ever stop?” she asked. “Or will you continue this game indefinitely?”
Smiling, Matthew stepped towards her. “I promise I will stop as soon as you claim your rightful place.”
A slight frown came to her face as she stared at him, and yet, Matthew believed deep down that she understood him. “Go change,” he urged teasingly, “or we’ll be late.”
Rolling her eyes, she turned away from him, mumbling something rather harsh under her breath.
Matthew laughed. She could not have pleased him more if she had kissed him.
At least not much.
Chapter Twenty-Two – To Feel Safe
Later that evening, Matthew found himself seated across from his wife in their carriage on their way to…some ball. He could not have been less interested especially since all his attention was currently focused on the rather pale woman trying to blend into the corner of the carriage in order to avoid him.
Her eyes were downcast; her skin pale. Still, a rosy blush danced on her cheeks, proving that she was well aware of the way he was looking at her.
Although Matthew had seen her dressed up in her finest before, it had always been from a distance. Now, she merely sat an arm’s length away so that he could still smell the faint rose scent of her midnight black tresses. Her pale blue eyes seemed darker in the dim light of the carriage, perfectly matching the soft glow of her azure gown.
Matthew smiled at her. “You look beautiful tonight,” he whispered, surprised to find his voice rather hoarse. “Not that you’re not always beautiful, but…” Grinning, he shook his head, peeking at her carefully. “I’m making a mess of things, aren’t I? I’ve never been good at voicing compliments.”
“Then don’t,” was all she said, her voice rather flat and displeased as she kept her gaze firmly averted, her hands clenched in her lap.
Matthew frowned. “Does it bother you that I would look at you? That I would tell you that you look beautiful?”
The muscles in her jaw tightened, and she turned her gaze out the window, her eyes focusing on the darkness passing them by.
“Why?” Matthew pressed, wanting nothing more than to understand the woman he had married. After all, she was beautiful, so why would that bother her? Did women not dress to their advantage in order to be seen as beautiful?
For a moment, her gaze shifted to his before darting back to the window, her chest rising and falling with a deep breath.
“Please,” Matthew urged, hoping for another moment of honesty that had occurred here and there between them. A moment when he had felt closer to her, when he had felt as though she was coming to trust him.
Meeting his gaze, she swallowed. “It bothers me,” she finally began, her voice bar
ely a whisper, and yet, it was filled with such heart-breaking sadness that Matthew felt the urge to comfort her, “because that was all my father ever saw in me.” Her hands clenched around one another, and she dropped her gaze. “All he ever cared about was what my beauty would buy him. He never saw me, only ever what I was worth to him. He saw me as something to pay his debts with, something he could sell off to the highest bidder.” Anger and disappointment laced her voice. “He didn’t care who I was so long as my face was pretty to look at.” Her gaze rose to meet his, a hint of an accusation shining in their depths. “Whenever he called me beautiful, I knew that he only thought of that. Always.”
Matthew nodded. “I understand.” From the way she looked at him in that moment, the way she held his gaze, a hint of a question in them, Matthew knew what she wished to know, and his heart jumped at the thought that she might care so deeply about what he thought of her, about how he saw her.
A gentle smile came to his face as he leaned forward, holding her gaze lest she dare retreat again. “To me, you’re the most beautiful when you speak of Tillie.”
Her eyes widened, and all suspicion slowly fell from her face as she listened.
Matthew chuckled softly, “Whenever you speak of her, your whole face lights up. Your eyes glow with such love and delight that I cannot help but look at you.”
A soft blush rose in her cheeks, and she dropped her gaze.
“You’re also exceptionally beautiful,” Matthew continued, relieved to see her head lifting once more when she heard the teasing tone in his voice, “when you roll your eyes at me.”
An almost silent chuckle escaped her lips, and her eyes rolled as though of their own accord.
“Yes!” Matthew laughed. “Exactly like that. It gives you such a defiant, headstrong look, and I can see the fire that lives in your heart, the fire that you’ve kept buried for far too long.” Gently, she smiled at her. “You’ll be even more radiant once you finally unleash it and allow it to guide you. I cannot wait for that day. It’ll be one to remember.”
Blinking her lashes, she looked at him, her breath coming faster than before, and Matthew could tell how much his words had affected her. Had no one ever told her how much she was worth? Not with regard to monetary gain, but she as a person? Did she not know how exceptionally unique she was? There was no one like her. Not in all the world. And Matthew felt equally exceptionally blessed that she was his wife, and no one else’s.