Chapter 10

Tabitha presented more of an obstacle than Matthew had expected. As he hurried from the dining hall, letter clenched so tightly that his fingers ached, Matthew turned her over in his mind. Perhaps she presented a problem, but every problem had a solution, did it not? It might be a complicated solution, for Matthew had long learned that there was little fickler and more irrational than human nature, but there would be something.

He had assumed that Tabitha would be easy to avoid. Matthew had imagined a marriage where they lived separate lives in their shared townhouse, and their only business together would be at night. Any meetings would be cold and cordial, yet he found that the meals he shared with Tabitha were not as torturous as he imagined.

She was forthright and impulsive, which were welcome traits, given that ton women were often restrained and secretive. They hid their intentions behind polite smiles and fawning compliments, more an acknowledgement of his reputation than anything else. Not so with Tabitha.

Matthew could not decide if he ought to fight the budding enjoyment for her company or simply accept it. This letter might hold his answers. Matthew entered his study and closed the door behind him. He tore the letter open, quickly scanning the usual greeting and details about his informant’s methods. Matthew cared less about the process than the result.

I have information about a woman who matches Duchess Hillsburgh’s description at one of the theatres in Paris, and when I produced her miniature, the man seemed certain that it was she whom he had seen. I went to the theatre at once and spoke with the troupe to learn if they remembered seeing her.

One actress told me she saw a woman she believes matches the miniature, but she could not be certain. This woman was evidently dressed rather richly and accompanied by a wealthy man. As of yet, I have learned nothing further about this woman’s identity; however, I am asking the shopkeepers near the theatre if they recall seeing her. My hope is that I may be able to determine where this lady left after the performance and learn where she is now.

Matthew read the words several more times, and a tightness curled inside his chest as he did. This letter was not a promise. It was entirely possible that those people were merely mistaken or that a woman in France bore a passing resemblance to Rosemary. And yet—

Matthew told himself that Rosemary had always looked so distinctive. Striking was the word. It was not only her appearance but how she held herself. She was regal like a queen, and he could not imagine anyone forgetting her easily.

It was far too soon for him to assume that Rosemary had been found at last. Matthew knew that but could not deny the joy that stirred within him. Regardless of how tentative it might be, there was a lead, and this one—unlike many others—seemed promising.

Matthew took a steadying breath and walked towards his desk. He should ask about his daughter Elaine next. Jonathan would have mentioned if he had learned anything of her whereabouts; Matthew knew that. But he also felt the need to ask. After all, the man had not mentioned Elaine for several letters. Perhaps he had gleaned some small kernel of information. Or maybe Matthew could—at least—suggest that Jonathan also ask if there had been any indication of a girl accompanying or being close to this mysterious lady.

Matthew sat behind his desk and drew a piece of paper from its drawers. He began writing feverishly like a man possessed. Unlike Jonathan, he was brief. He thanked the man for his information, asked about his daughter, and promised to send more money if Jonathan proved successful in his search. It was all quick and simple.

As Matthew folded the letter, a series of knocks—thud, thud, thud-thud-thud—sounded from his door. They resembled a melody he’d heard before, and the similarity caught him unaware.

“Come in?” The words emerged more like a question than an order, but nonetheless, the door creaked open.

Tabitha appeared. She remained close to the door, her fingers curled around it as if she wanted to enter his study but was uncertain that was allowed. Matthew carefully folded Jonathan’s letter and tucked it beneath a stack of books atop his desk. Tabitha could certainly not read the missive from where she stood, but Matthew still felt the impulse to conceal it from her sight.

“Is there something you want?” he asked. “I am tending to my correspondence.”

“So I see. I thought that I ought to see if you were well. You did leave our meal rather abruptly, and I thought something might be amiss.”

They stared at one another for a long moment and said nothing. Matthew shifted uncomfortably in his chair. He had been unnecessarily curt with her, and almost at once, he felt a jolt of guilt. Tabitha had done nothing wrong. Anyone in her position would have been concerned by his sudden flight from their dining room.

“Is there?” she asked.

“Is there what?”

“Something amiss,” Tabitha clarified.

He waved a dismissive hand. “It is nothing you need to concern yourself with, Tabitha.”

It was, though. The guilt within him intensified. If Rosemary were found, his marriage to Tabitha would be annulled, which meant she would be returned to the marriage mart. No one would think ill of her. If anything, Matthew expected that the ton would react with pity and sympathy, but Tabitha’s reputation would not be besmirched. After all, she could not have feasibly anticipated Rosemary’s return.

He was uncertain if Tabitha would find herself in the same dreadful situation that had resulted in their marriage. Likely not. The ton would assume that Tabitha had shared his bed, as any wife would, and if any pre-marital scandal emerged, Matthew could obviously contest such rumours. He imagined very few men would have the gall to contradict his claims that he married a virginal woman. Still, it felt a little wrong to have involved Tabitha in this. He had no guarantees that Rosemary was found, so there was no point in thinking further about what would happen to Tabitha if—when—Rosemary returned.

Matthew resolved to think no further about the matter until he learned more. “Was there something else you needed? If that is all, I ask that you leave me to my business.”

Tabitha’s fingers seemed to tighten around the edge of the door, but he was too far away to know for certain. “You suggested that I invite a friend to come to our townhouse. I wish to invite Bridgette, and I wish to know if tomorrow would be acceptable.”

Matthew frowned, trying to recall who Bridgette was. No particular person came to mind. He had no justification for refusing her. Matthew had agreed that Tabitha could have guests—had just suggested it to her—and he would be petty to deny her this. But if she had a friend visit, she would be happy. Matthew did not wish Tabitha to be miserable exactly, but he also did not want her to—well—

He was not certain what he wanted exactly. Perhaps a small part of him wanted Tabitha to loathe him so that when their marriage inevitably ended, she would not be upset by his absence.

This ran almost counter to his thoughts just moments before. Matthew sighed deeply. He needed solitude. He needed to think. Tabitha was conducive to neither, and her unwelcome presence and Rosemary’s possible appearance sent his mind wandering in a thousand different directions.

“That is your decision,” he said icily. “Your affairs are none of my business.”

“My affairs. Is that a deliberate choice of wording?”

“You read too much into it.”

Tabitha smiled thinly. “I believe I shall spend the night in my bedchamber, Matthew, if it is all the same to you.”

That was likely for the best. If Tabitha did not spend the night in his bedchamber, he would likely spend the night awake and in distress, longing to touch her. “If it pleases you. There is no particular reason to spend the night in mine.”

“It would,” she said, her voice strained. “I will leave you to your correspondence and instead attend to my own.”

“I am pleased to hear that you are not neglecting your duties as—” Matthew cut off. He had been going to say, as the Duchess of Hillsburgh, but that was Rosemary. “—to the household.”

Tabitha curtsied, something mocking about the gesture. “Such sterling praise.”

She closed the door. Matthew waited, listening for her retreating footsteps. The sound never came, but he realized that she had likely left anyway. Women’s slippers were quiet, and ladies always trod very softly. He remembered being unable to hear Rosemary sometimes; she had always sneaked up on him, often delighting in catching him unaware.

Matthew would start, and Rosemary would laugh. Sometimes, he would be a little vexed with her, but his wife’s sparkling eyes and charming smile were like a magic spell. Any vexation turned to mirth in an instant. He had not realized how much he secretly enjoyed her mischief until she was gone.

Now, there was Tabitha. Matthew groaned and dropped his head between his hands. He stared at the wood of his desk as if it might somehow hold the answers to all his dilemmas. “Mother, do you have the faintest idea what you have done?” he muttered.

Of course, she did not. That was partly Matthew’s fault, too. Sure, his mother knew that he still hoped for Rosemary’s return and that he had never abandoned the idea that she might find her way back to him. However, there was much that Matthew had not told the Dowager Duchess, such as the fact that he had employed an investigator to search for Rosemary and Elaine on the Continent.

He had agreed to please her and for the dukedom, but Matthew suddenly realized that there were so many variables he had not considered in this decision. Not once had he thought about how Rosemary’s return might affect Tabitha.

He had thought only about how a loveless marriage was convenient for them both, and because Tabitha was content with that, Matthew had thought that was enough. But she had agreed under false pretences. Like the rest, she likely believed that Rosemary was dead or gone or never to return.

Like the rest, she did not know that Matthew was making efforts to find Rosemary and Elaine, and he certainly could not tell her that he had, at long last, some proof that Rosemary lived still.

Matthew took a shuddering breath. He remembered how honest Tabitha had been at their engagement ball, when he asked about what scandal she was trying to avoid, and she had answered so readily. She deserved someone honest, and he could not be that man.