“Of course,” Tabitha said.
“There are dozens of reasons why Lord Fatherton may have come into possession of my watch,” Matthew said.
Tabitha could not be certain if Matthew were trying to reassure her or himself more, but regardless, it seemed as though they were no longer enemies.
“Your Grace.” The butler spoke from the entrance of the room. “You have a guest.”
Matthew’s butler was a pale, spindly man, but at the moment, he looked somehow even paler than usual. It was as if he had seen a ghost, or some terrible misfortune unfold before his very eyes.
“A guest?” Matthew asked.
“It is Her Grace, the Duchess of Hillsburgh,” the butler said, casting Tabitha a look that was equally horrified and sympathetic.
Tabitha felt her blood turn to ice in her veins. Surely, it could not be, but the coincidence seemed too great. She turned her head, her gaze fixed on the room entrance.
“Rosemary?” asked Matthew, sounding strangled. “That cannot be.”
But a woman entered all the same. Tabitha’s breath caught in her throat. She was beautiful. Her hair and eyes were as dark and flawless as the finest piece of polished jet, and her skin was pale with roses of colour over her cheeks. Her lilac gown revealed a slender, well-formed figure. Tabitha knew, just looking at this woman, that she must be the fabled Duchess of Hillsburgh. She was impossibly even more beautiful than everyone had said.
“Rosemary,” Matthew said.
He stood and walked to her, and with a brilliant smile, Her Grace launched herself into his arms. Their lips met in a long, lingering kiss, and Tabitha swallowed hard. There did not seem to be enough air in the room, or if there was, she could not draw it into her lungs.
“How is this possible?” Matthew asked once they broke the kiss. “How can you really be here?”
Could Cassius’s story be true? Tabitha stared at Her Grace and remembered everything that Lady Miriam had said about the former Duchess of Hillsburgh—no, the current Duchess of Hillsburgh—and it all made horrible sense. With creeping dread, Tabitha also remembered that Matthew had not believed any of the rumours about Her Grace.
“It is really terrible,” Her Grace said.
She and Matthew still clung to one another, and Tabitha felt like she was an intruder, witnessing their private moment.
“Oh! You cannot even imagine the terrors I have endured over these long years!” the Duchess of Hillsburgh exclaimed. “It has been so dreadful! I was abducted and taken from you with our dear Elaine. I have languished for so long, thinking of nothing else save for returning to you, my beloved Matthew!”
Her Grace’s eyes were suspiciously bright, and Tabitha could see that the woman was trying to fight away the gathering tears.
“Abducted?” Matthew asked.
The Duchess nodded. “Yes, and I tried so hard to return to you. But I only recently managed to escape my captors. I know it has been so long, but I never stopped trying to find my way back to you! I only hoped that you would still want me after all this time.”
“Of course,” Matthew said softly. “Rosemary, how could you think otherwise?”
The words were like a knife to Tabitha’s heart. She felt shattered, gutted. Her Grace had returned and seemed genuinely distraught, as though she really had endured some great trauma and had wanted nothing more than to return to her loving husband. If that were the case, Tabitha was a monster, was she not? She had hoped that this woman was dead, had assumed that she was, and even when Cassius raised the possibility of Her Grace’s return, Tabitha had hoped with her whole being that it was not true.
She could bear looking upon Matthew and Her Grace no longer. Seeing them reunited and so deeply in love after so much time only made her feel wretched. Tabitha rolled her shoulders back and forced her best smile. She knew that she needed to be gracious. She needed to be sympathetic to Her Grace’s situation and Matthew’s surely conflicted feelings about having his beloved returned to him after such a long absence.
“Excuse me,” Tabitha said. “I should leave so you may have a more private reunion. I am certain there is much you wish to say to one another.”
Her Grace’s smile was kind and gentle, as if in silent apology for Tabitha’s discomfort. “You do not have to leave.”
“No, I should,” Tabitha replied. “You have been away for so long. We can always talk later. It was a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Your Grace. I am glad you have returned at last.”
“Thank you, Tabitha,” Matthew said.
Tabitha forced a smile and left the room. She stood in the foyer, only glancing behind her once. Matthew and Her Grace sat beside one another, gazing at the other as if they were the only people in the world. A lump formed in Tabitha’s throat. What was she to do? When upset, her bedroom was often her refuge, but could she even say it was hers anymore? Was anything here hers anymore? Had it ever been?
Tabitha wanted to cry, but no tears were forthcoming. She could sense the butler watching her; he remained close to the dining hall, doubtlessly waiting in case either Matthew or the Duchess of Hillsburgh needed his services. Tabitha had been utterly forgotten with the arrival of Her Grace. She curled her fingers into the skirts of her gown and quietly slipped into the kitchen and out the side entrance. The morning air was warm and pleasant, and the sun shined golden in a cloudless sky. It was a beautiful day upon which to have one’s heart completely shattered.
“Farewell, Matthew,” she murmured.
