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.”

“Can you tell me anything that might help me find these men?” Matthew asked. “We must surely prevent them from abducting any more young women.”

Rosemary shook her head and bit her lip. “I am sorry,” she said, “but it is so very difficult to speak of. I do not know if I will be able to—and I cannot recall all my experiences. I was often drugged, you see.”

Matthew was quiet for a long moment, mulling his wife’s words in his head. It seemed so absurd, and Rosemary’s account was very sparse in details. He wanted to believe her; truly, he did. How could he, though, when Cassius’s story was beginning to look more rational by the moment?

“What about Elaine?” Matthew asked. “What of her?”

She hesitated.

“Is she still with them? Surely, you did not leave her,” Matthew said.

“No,” Rosemary replied. “No, she is safe, but I thought London might be too much to endure after such a harsh trial. It is nearly too hard for me.”

She shifted on his lap and kissed him. His throat felt raw as he breathed in the delicate scent of her English lavender and rose oil. “I am sure,” he said. “Where did you leave her?”

“In Yorkshire.”

If Rosemary had been held captive for over a decade, he could not imagine that she would be suddenly so quick to abandon their daughter. Surely, she would want to keep Elaine as close to her as she possibly could. Matthew would have wanted to do that.

“I must confess that I was not entirely surprised to see you,” Matthew said.

Rosemary’s softness and sadness faltered for just an instant. There was a second of suspicion in her gaze, smoothed over quickly but not quickly enough.

“Because you never stopped believing that I would return?” she asked.

“No,” he replied. “I was assured that you would. A short while ago, a gentleman told me the most interesting story. He said that you were not abducted but that you had left me to become the mistress of a prince. You wanted to be a princess or a queen, I assume. But then, your prince was not chosen to inherit the throne, so you decided to return to me.”

“That is a ridiculous story!” Rosemary exclaimed. “Who told you such a ridiculous thing?”

“Get off me.”

He shifted and pushed her shoulder. She stumbled from his lap, and he stood. Still, Matthew wanted to believe her and ignore everything his head told him, but the details of Cassius’s story lined up far too neatly. And Rosemary’s own version of events was sorely lacking. His heart raced, and his thoughts went in a dozen different directions.

“I will ask you one more time,” Matthew said. “Where is our daughter? And I want the truth! Did you leave her in some far-flung place? Do you even know where she is?”

Rosemary looked askance. Her breath came in shudders, and she looked as though she might cry again. Matthew said nothing. Instead, he crossed his arms and waited for her to realize the futility of this.

At last, she rubbed her hands across her reddened face. Her eyes were bright from the wash of her forced tears. “The prince made me leave Elaine with my great-aunt,” she said. “I had no choice.”

The words were like a physical blow to his heart. She had taken their daughter, not even to raise herself, but had spirited her away to live with a distant relative.

Matthew thought of all the insults and cruel things he had ever heard said about Rosemary, all the accusations and insinuations that he had defended her from, but he saw with sudden clarity that this woman was not one who ought to be defended. She was everything his mother and sister had always said she was, and for twelve years, he had grieved and searched for a version of Rosemary who did not exist.

“You had every choice!” he exclaimed. “You could have chosen to remain with me! Or, if you were unhappy, you could have told me you wished to leave. I would have let you!”

“You would have tried to persuade me to stay!” Rosemary countered. “You idolized me! Do you have the faintest idea how difficult it was trying to be as perfect as you believed me to be?”

“Do not find fault in me for this! Nothing I have ever done to you could justify your callous treatment of me! You let me believe the worst—that you were dead! And you took my daughter from me. If my fault was that I held you in too high esteem, I do regret that, but it hardly justifies your actions!”

Rosemary sobbed, but Matthew was far past being moved by womanly tears.

“You will leave,” he said. “You will never darken my life again, and I will do everything in my power to ensure that you and I are legally separated in every way. You are no longer the Duchess of Hillsburgh. If you wish to survive, you had best hope that your prince still desires you.”

“You cannot do this! I have nowhere that I can possibly go!” Rosemary exclaimed. “He will not take me.”

Rosemary looked at him, utterly bereft, and Matthew suspected that her emotions were not entirely an act. She truly was desperate. Life was difficult for unmarried ladies, particularly older ones.

If Rosemary had neither her prince nor him, Matthew did not know how she would survive, and at the moment, he could not bring himself to care. Rosemary had chosen to leave him in the cruellest way possible. These were the consequences of her own actions, and she would have to face them alone.

He withdrew the watch from his jacket and placed it on the table between them. Rosemary’s eyes snapped to it, and colour rose to her cheeks. It was not the pretty flush she so naturally exuded but something red and ugly, like an open wound. “I was never happy with you!” she exclaimed. “That is why I did it! I wanted to be happy, and I do not think you ought to judge me so callously for that! You are a man, and you have every opportunity left to you. And what do I have? A chance for an arranged, loveless marriage, where my only task is to bear you an heir?”

“Loveless?”

“Yes, loveless,” she said. “I tried to love you, but I could not. So I sought my love elsewhere after Elaine was born, and you never even suspected. Do you see how little attention you paid to me? I had a string of affairs under your own roof, and you did not even notice!”

Matthew inhaled sharply. He had not, but suddenly, so many early parts of their marriage made sense. Rosemary had liked to travel, and he had always indulged her. He had let her go wherever she liked, admiring his wife’s adventurous spirit and zeal for seeing different places in Britain. But now, he understood that Rosemary had been an adventuress of an entirely different sort.

“Why are you even here?” Matthew asked. “Why return after all these years?”

And why had Lord Fatherton known about it? Were he and Rosemary still lovers after all this time? Was it something to do with Tabitha?

Rosemary curled her fingers into the skirts of her fine gown. “I received word that you had married another, and I could not risk losing my future.”

“Your future?”

She inhaled sharply, the sound wet and raspy. “Princes are fickle,” she said. “I knew there was always the chance that mine would find another woman, one who was prettier and younger. I had not thought too much about it because I knew that if I returned, I would still be the Duchess of Hillsburgh. Even if you died, I knew I would be taken care of.”

Matthew clenched his jaw, too angry to speak.

“You refused to believe that I was truly dead,” Rosemary said. “You would have never left me penniless. You would have always kept something set aside for Elaine and me in the will. With a new duchess, however—”

“Tabitha,” Matthew said sharply. “My wife.”

“She can be your wife no longer,” Rosemary said. “I know I have erred, and I hope you will forgive my youthful indiscretion.”

He nearly laughed. “Youthful indiscretions do not last for over a decade, Rosemary,” he said. “No, you will leave my townhouse before I have you arrested.”

“Arrested?” she asked, looking mortified. “You could not possibly have me arrested! I have committed no crime.”

“Oh, I am sure there is something,” Matthew said. “Now, leave! I am serious, Rosemary.”

“I told you that I have nowhere to go!”

“Maybe you should ask your dearest Lord Fatherton to tend to you!” Matthew snapped. “At least he cannot ruin a woman who has already torn apart her own life!”

Rosemary looked stricken. She took a faltering step back. Then, another. “You cannot do this!”

“I can,” he said. “Do not force my hand, or I will have you dragged from here.”

She looked, for an instant, defiant. Then, with a twirl of her skirts, she turned and left. Matthew’s stomach lurched. He felt as though he might vomit and lowered himself into his chair. Matthew ran his hands through his hair and took a series of deep, shuddering breaths. It was done. After twelve years, he had found Rosemary again and sent her away just as quickly as she had come.