An ache curled inside her chest. She felt as if she could not breathe again, but Tabitha forced herself to keep walking. A proper lady would have been escorted; she noticed her deviation in behaviour with a dry sort of amusement. What sense was there in thinking of such things as proper behaviour when she had just seen her husband’s wife, his lost beloved, return from the dead?
She supposed an annulment would come swiftly, and she would return to living with her parents. Tabitha tried to tell herself there were worse fates for a young lady in her position. She was not disgraced, and her parents would still accept her. Still, she shivered, thinking of Cassius. What was she to make of him? He had tried to warn her about Her Grace’s return, and she had assumed he was a liar.
But if he had not lied about the Duchess of Hillsburgh’s return, he would likely not have lied about their affair either. Or had he? Tabitha sighed, her thoughts wandering in a dozen directions as she returned to her parents’ townhouse.
She did not know what to think or believe, but she knew that she had lost both her former lover and her husband now. Perhaps being disgraced would not be so terrible; she could become a spinster and live a single life. Given her luck with suitors, that suddenly did not seem to be such a terrible fate.
A carriage halted by her. “Your Grace?”
Tabitha was so consumed by her grief that it took her a long moment to realize she knew the man who had spoken; it was Thomas Meadows, her parents’ driver. The carriage door opened, and her father emerged. “Tabby Cat! Why are you here? Are you alone?”
Tabitha could no longer keep her tears away. A sob tore from her throat. Her father asked no more questions. He merely descended from the carriage and enveloped her in his arms, like when she was a child needing comfort from the darkness or sounds in the night.
“Are you hurt?” her father asked.
Tabitha gazed at her father through a cloud of tears. “No,” she rasped.
“Tabitha!” Her mother’s voice came from inside the carriage. “Oh, my dearest!”
“Tabby, you must tell us everything.” That was Bridgette.
Everyone important in Tabitha’s life was there, except for Matthew, but she did not know if he had ever really been hers. She swallowed around the thick lump in her throat. “Take me home. Please.”
Chapter 24
It was Rosemary. After twelve years of desperately hoping that she would return to him, she finally had. He could scarcely believe it. Matthew was delighted and confused and uncertain all at once. Nothing seemed real, even him telling Tabitha that he appreciated the privacy with Rosemary.
Tabitha …
He could scarcely imagine what she must have felt when Rosemary entered the room, especially since he had just reassured her that Cassius was a liar. “I do not understand,” he said.
“What do you mean?” Rosemary asked, her voice soothing.
She climbed into his lap and wrapped her arms around his neck. Rosemary pressed her cheek against his collarbone. The position was familiar; Matthew remembered that she had often sat astride him just like that when they were married. They were still married, perhaps.
“I do not understand how you can be here after so long.”
And where was Elaine? What of her?
She stroked his hair and smiled gently. “I know. I can scarcely believe it either, my love. I tried to remain hopeful, but there were nights when I would lay awake and worry that I would never see you again.”
“I often did the same,” Matthew confessed.
“My poor dear,” Rosemary murmured. “I am so sorry for how you have suffered all these years. I would have done anything to spare you such a terrible fate.”
Matthew furrowed his brow, thinking. “You could not contact me in twelve years,” he said slowly.
“Not at all.”
He wanted to believe her more than anything, but he could not. It seemed inconceivable that she had no means by which she might contact him for so long. She looked rather healthy, too. She was dressed like a lady. Rosemary’s appearance was, overall, not what he would have expected from a woman who had been held captive for twelve years.
Matthew could not help thinking about Cassius’s proposed explanation. He had tried so hard to dismiss it, but he felt those insidious words worming their way into his mind. It made some sense, did it not? It would neatly explain why Rosemary had not contacted him in all those years. It would explain why she looked so well.
“I tried,” Rosemary said, her eyes pleading. “I assure you that I did. I beg you, Matthew, to believe me. I know it is a hard tale to believe and even harder to live. I never stopped thinking of you, not even for a moment!”
“Do you know who abducted you?” Matthew asked. “Why?”
“I have not the faintest idea,” Rosemary said. “My captors did not speak to me much. I tried asking; I tried bribing one of them to send a letter to you, but I know now that none of them ever did.”
