Chapter 16

Something was amiss. When Tabitha joined him for dinner, she smiled. “Good evening, Matthew.”

He tried to force a smile but suspected that he only managed an awkward grimace. “Good evening, Tabitha.”

She seated herself at the opposite end of the table and began demurely eating dinner. Not a single scowl or frown was cast his way. There were no snide comments forthcoming. Matthew sipped his wine and stared at her, uncertain who this woman was and what she had done with the Tabitha who just last night had pushed him away and slapped him.

“Did the visit with your parents go well?” he asked.

“It did, indeed,” she said, her expression brightening. “It was good to see my mother.”

Matthew slowly nodded. “I am glad.”

This was too strange. They were being civil with one another.

“Did you perhaps, consume some spirits with your parents before returning for dinner?” Matthew asked, the words escaping his mouth before he could consider the wisdom of them.

Tabitha’s jaw dropped. “How dare you?” she asked, clearly indignant. “I returned to the townhouse in a pleasant mood and thought that we might have an enjoyable dinner, and you accuse me of being intoxicated?”

Matthew had to concede that he could have said something much better. He sipped his wine, unsure what to say that would not worsen the situation. After accusing Tabitha of being drunk and upsetting her, he was not sure anything would improve things for him. Perhaps, silence was the best answer.

Tabitha sighed and lowered the fork she had held in her hand. “I apologize,” she said. “That was uncalled for. However, I am not intoxicated, Matthew. I really did just think that we might have a pleasant dinner, after the last one. I am sure you will agree that was … quite disastrous.”

“It was,” he said.

“And I should not have said those things that I did,” she continued. “I suppose it just had not occurred to me that you might still be grieving Her Grace, missing Her Grace. I thought that it might be difficult for you being married again, but I did not realize how difficult. I am sorry for our argument last night. It was all my fault.”

Her apology and explanation made him feel utterly dreadful. She had not been entirely wrong, after all. It was not fair of him to treat her like he had—to stroke and caress her one moment and act as if he wanted nothing to do with her in the next.

“You were not the only one at fault,” he said.

The words were hard to say. He so seldom apologized, and the few times that he had were never quite so serious as this one.

“I should have been honest with you, like you were with me,” he said. “If I had been, so much could have been avoided. The truth is that I married you for the selfish reasons I mentioned, wanting an heir and for my mother to leave me be. I thought we could have a marriage of convenience and would mean nothing to one another. I truly did, Tabitha.”

“I understand.”

“Yes, I know you do. The truth is that I was wrong, though. I did not think this would be as hard as it is. I told myself that I could simply perform my duty as the Duke of Hillsburgh, but I have not even been able to do that.”

“No one could blame you for it,” she said. “You loved—still love—Her Grace very much.”

“Yes. But I am partly to blame. I have not exactly told everyone that I still love Rosemary, much less that I am still searching for her.”

Tabitha’s face softened. “Are you? After all this time?”

“Yes,” he replied.

Matthew paused, waiting. He had anticipated anger and indignation from her, some rekindling of the previous night’s argument, but Tabitha only gazed sadly at him. She did not appear even a little vexed by his confession. “I am so sorry,” she murmured. “Have you managed to find anything?”

He took a steadying breath followed by a sip of wine and a spoonful of warm, hearty soup. “Maybe.”

Matthew recounted what Jonathan had told him about hearing of a woman who matched Rosemary’s description and miniature. Tabitha listened, seemingly with rapt attention, while he went over the details. Then, he told her about how he had asked after his daughter Elaine, who would be a young lady by now—only a handful of years younger than Tabitha herself.

Tabitha remained quiet while he explained it all, and once he was finished, she took a shuddering breath. He watched her carefully, as a man might an easily frightened animal.

“It must have been so very hard for you.” Her voice was calm and collected, not an ounce of fury to be found. “I am sorry that you have suffered so. I wish that I could be of some help to you.”

“Yes, well, I doubt there is anything anyone can do except for men like Jonathan,” Matthew said. “I have often felt helpless myself. At first, I joined the searches. I looked all over the dukedom for her, searched all the surrounding villages, spoke to all my tenants, and offered a king’s ransom for any information. I was certain that she and my daughter were being held by some miscreants, but after all that time, there was nothing.”

“Oh, Matthew,” she murmured. “That would be so terrible.”

“Yes. And at first, the ton was helpful. They were eager to help me find Rosemary. We all searched and exhausted every possible lead, and there were many in the early days. There were false leads and people who lied, hoping to curry favour with me or cheat me out of money. But eventually, interest faded. After a year, only Rosemary’s family and I kept searching for her.”

“How terrible,” muttered Tabitha.

“It was. And I kept searching for her,” Matthew continued. “I refused to accept defeat, but eventually, new rumours began. People told me that she was surely dead and that I needed to marry again. It was for the good of the dukedom, and I refused for years. I told them that I could not marry again until I knew she was dead. There was no proof that she was. Neither Rosemary nor Elaine ever appeared.”

Tabitha leaned forward, her face so sympathetic that Matthew felt something inside him break. He rarely spoke of Rosemary with anyone, and there was something simultaneously freeing and terrifying about having brought her into the open.

“Eventually, I was forced to concede. The Prince Regent declared them dead, and I suppose that I should have been grateful. Everyone seemed to believe that I would be. I think they expected me to wed at once, and some of the ton even offered their daughters to me. I fled to the country simply to be rid of them all.”

“How terrible,” Tabitha said, “that they would not even let you … remain unwed and keep searching.”

Matthew slowly nodded. “It was, but eventually, I realized that I could not search on my own. I had no real skills for gaining information, and the dukedom needed me. I said nothing more about Rosemary and instead began hiring Bow Street runners to do my investigations for me. They searched all of England for a sign of my wife and daughter, and when their searches proved fruitless, I persuaded some of them to search the Continent for her.”

“Which brings us to the present.”

“Yes.”

Tabitha spread her fingers out over the table. She looked thoughtful. “I am sorry again,” she said slowly, “for all the terrible things I said. I promise I will never disrespect Her Grace or your memories of her ever again. Perhaps I was dissatisfied with our relationship, but I was being very selfish. You were delivering what you promised, and that should be enough.”

“Tabitha …”

“We do not even need to share the bedchamber or consummate our marriage,” she added. “I understand now why the idea would upset you, and I think it best that we not do anything of the sort. I do not mind now that I understand your rationale.”

“You should not have to give up every marital bliss for me,” he said. “You are allowed to be a little selfish, Tabitha.”

“I know,” she said, “but of late, I have been too selfish. I promise I shall be fine, and—and I will not pressure you to consummate the marriage. I do not want you to feel like I am forcing you to do anything. You need not be my husband in anything other than name, truly.”

He stared at her, an odd feeling rising within him. Matthew was not certain what to make of Tabitha then. She was all womanly kindness and sympathy, and when he looked at her, he thought of Rosemary. And yet—

And yet he thought that he might like to stand and go to Tabitha’s side and bury his head in the crook of her neck, inhaling all those sweet floral scents that women liked to use. How strange this all was. She would not understand, not really. But how could anyone? Still, he felt a surge of fondness for this young woman, who so willingly accepted that he was hurt and was willing to give him time to heal. She was good, too good for him, too.

“Thank you,” he murmured, but those words seemed entirely too feeble to express the force of his gratitude, which swept over him in a sudden wave of feeling. “That is very kind of you.”

“It is only the decent thing to do,” Tabitha said. “I will excuse myself now if you have no objections. Bridgette sent me a parcel earlier today, and I have yet to open it. I should do so soon so I may send her an expression of my gratitude in the morning.”

“Of course.”

As she left, she offered him a small curtsey. It was a sweet and delicate gesture, unlike the last mocking one he had received. His breath caught in his throat. Somehow, this sweet and kind Tabitha was more difficult to remain ambivalent about than the harsh one. Her acceptance made him feel vulnerable and unsettled, but strangely, neither sensation seemed particularly bad. Simply different.

He finished his meal in silence, still turning the problem of Tabitha over in his mind. Matthew found her solution very gracious, but it still did not seem entirely fair to him. He must do something more than simply thank her.

Perhaps there was something else he could do, some grandiose gesture or gift that she might appreciate, which would express that—while he still loved Rosemary—he was grateful for her easy understanding.

“Your Grace,” his butler entered, letter in hand. “I apologize for the interruption, but I know you like receiving letters from Mr Howell at once.”

“Indeed,” Matthew said, his eyes gazing hungrily at the letter.

This one had come very soon after the previous one—too soon for Jonathan to have received Matthew’s reply yet—which meant that the man must have followed his lead and found something promising.

Matthew’s hand shook as he took the letter. It was almost fitting that this would arrive moments after he reconciled with Tabitha. He opened the letter, taken aback by how short it was.

The information must be important if Jonathan had found it only worth a paragraph rather than spending half a page detailing his exact methods of enquiry. Matthew read the first words, and his face fell. This was not good.

He read further, and the nearer he came to the letter’s end, the more he felt his heart sink. Nothing seemed real anymore. He read the letter repeatedly, certain that he must have misread or misunderstood something, but no matter how hard he tried to convince himself that the words said something else—anything else—their meaning remained unchanged.