But that was all about to come crashing down.
For someone knew.
Arthur paced before the fire, staring into the flames, pausing to run a thumb over his lip as he thought.
What could they know? Only that they’d met? Or could it be far, far worse? Would they know that she begged for him upon all fours during their most recent assignation? That she’d cried out his name as she dug her fingers into the bed-linens? Or that she’d broken her own rules of propriety and allowed herself to fall asleep in his arms, waking only just in the nick of time to retreat from the hotel just before dawn?
“We must speak with this Dr. Collier, see what he says,” Arthur finally declared. He had his hands on his hips, determined, looking every inch the fortunate young scion, the champion of his family, insistent on upholding their honor.
It was nothing like what she’d hoped for him. She had wished to see him live a happy, carefree life, not find himself entangled in such matters.
She must stop this. Cressida shut her eyes and drew in a long, steady breath.
Dr. Collier.Matthew. Suddenly her brain dredged up the memory of the filthy handkerchief the boy who’d pestered her before the Euston Hotel had clutched. M.C.
She nearly gasped. But that likely meant nothing, surely? Her heart was racing once again. The way that Matthew had taken such bitter offense to the lad, the way he’d spoken to him with such vitriol… it had suggested a familiarity beyond that of strangers.
And he hadn’t claimed not to know him, now that she thought of it. He’d only called him a footpad. Dread snaked its long, cold fingers around her neck. She felt as if she couldn’t speak.
Dr. Collier was a gambler, after all. It wasn’t illogical to think he might be caught up in something sinister.
“Mama?” Arthur prodded in a concerned tone.
Cressida exhaled and opened her eyes. She smiled, despite the heavy weight she felt in her chest.
“Of course I shall, darling. He will be here tomorrow, for Henry’s lesson.” She stood, and though she did not match her eldest’s height, she held herself as though she towered over him. “But I shall do so alone.”
“This is my house as well,” Arthur sighed.
“You are more than welcome to purchase me a lovely little dower house. Though, preferably somewhere with a more temperate climate than Cumbria. I enjoy seeing flowers outside of a greenhouse on occasion.”
He smiled fondly.
“But how shall you mind your grandchildren, from several counties away?”
“Grandchildren?” Cressida said eyebrow playfully, relieved to have shifted the tone of the conversation. “Is there a young lady I ought to—”
Arthur groaned.
“On that, I’m off.” He crossed the room to place a kiss upon her cheek. “Goodnight, Mama.”
And then he retired.
Cressida did not. She stared at the fire well into the night, a curious ache in her heart.
Chapter Eighteen
He’d last left Henrywith a promise to accompany him to the museum. The lad had brightened at that, then thoroughly routed him at piquet. Matthew was incredibly proud. But what would happen when the school term began and their lessons ended? Would he still see Lady Caplin? Would she seek him out?
Would he still be permitted to use her spectacular library?
Matthew sighed and looked up from the small book in his hand. He studied the late-afternoon light filtering in through the high windows, watching motes of dust float about.
Henry was a fine lad, and Matthew couldn’t help but worry for him as well. How would he get on at Eton? He’d promised to write, but that wasn’t the same thing as companionship. Matthew had been lonely at school. Hell, he’d been alone his whole damn life.
The thought recalled Aunt Albertine, and he felt a pang of guilt. He hadn’t visited her since Harriet’s wedding that spring. And as for Harriet, well, it seemed weeks since he’d even considered her.
No, all his thoughts of late had been about one lady. Thoughts of her in his arms, her hands stroking his chest, her legs curling about him…
