She braced herself, expecting his scorn. Instead, he only smiled. “I see.”
“You see?”
“Indeed. I see you very clearly now.”
He offered his arm, and Tabitha curled her fingers around the crook of his elbow. “You do not seem particularly alarmed by it.”
“Because I am not. Shall I return you to your family now?”
Before she could protest, he stepped forward. His stride was strong and confident, and he took her with him. Tabitha hastened, feeling awkward as she tried to match his quick pace. She had too much pride to ask him to slow for her. As promised, he brought her to her parents.
“It was a wonderful and enlightening dance,” the Duke of Hillsburgh said. “Thank you for sharing it with me, Lady Tabitha.”
She stared at him, certain that the shock must be entirely obvious to him. He did nothing to answer her questions, casting her only a sly smirk and retreating to his waiting sister.
“How was the dance?” Lady Mayhew asked quickly. “Was it as lovely as he suggested?”
“I believe so,” Tabitha replied.
In truth, however, she had not the faintest idea what meaning she ought to take from such a strange encounter. She had expected his anger, perhaps even for him to call off the engagement, but all His Grace had done was smile.
Chapter 4
Lady Tabitha’s confusion was so obvious that it was comical. Matthew refrained from chuckling as he left her with Lord and Lady Mayhew. She had stared at him with wide gray eyes, her lips slightly parted as if in some sort of silent protest, and her brow furrowed in utter bemusement. And as she had stared at him, colour rose to her face until she looked like a rose in full bloom.
If he were a better man, he might have explained himself. After all, he knew well that most men would have reacted with scorn and surprise. Lady Tabitha’s confession made everything better, though. She was marrying him out of desperation and cared not if he had affection for her. They could have a marriage where she produced an heir for him, and that was all. He did not need to befriend her or worry about her happiness.
His sister Miriam was suddenly at his side. “What did you do to her?” she asked, her voice low. “The poor thing looks so flustered!”
Matthew could not help smirking as he looked over his shoulder and confirmed that Lady Tabitha did look flustered. Her friend—the dark-haired young lady she had arrived with—stood at Lady Tabitha’s side. The pair appeared to be in a deep conversation, Lady Tabitha gesturing broadly with her hands. Her face was still that deep, obvious red.
“I did not do anything to her,” Matthew said.
“You did,” Miriam insisted. “I know what that expression means. Did you need to embarrass the poor girl?”
“She does not need my help to be embarrassed,” Matthew replied. “She has tripped twice in my presence. I am beginning to wonder if she knows how to walk.”
They reached the edge of the ballroom, and Matthew turned, letting his shoulder blades rest against the wall. Miriam gave him a reproachful glance. “Do not be cruel. You are an intimidating man and have not mingled with the ton for at least a decade. She is nervous.”
“She is the one who agreed to marry me.”
“You do not need to be cruel to her,” Miriam insisted. “How could you even bear to be callous to her? She looks so sweet and innocent.”
“She is not as innocent as she looks.”
“What do you mean?”
Matthew quickly recounted what Lady Tabitha had told him about her threatened reputation and the meeting in the darkened parlour. She had claimed that nothing had happened that night, and Matthew decided he believed her. Just because nothing happened did not mean she had not wanted it to, though.
“And so, this seems to be the perfect arrangement,” he concluded. “She is desperate to spare her reputation, and I am desperate to please Mother by producing an heir. Neither of us have any illusions about what we are agreeing to do.”
“How very romantic,” Miriam said dryly.
“What would you know of romance?” Matthew asked.
Miriam pressed her lips into a thin line. “I know enough,” she said. “There was still no need to be unkind to her. You did not even assuage her fears and assure her that you meant no ill will. The poor lady might, at this very moment, be worrying that you no longer wish to wed her. She may be afraid that she has ruined everything while you stand across the room and bask in your own cruel cleverness.”
“Cruel cleverness,” he echoed. “That is a good turn of phrase. Mother would be proud.”
