“Place the letter on my desk in the library, Thebson. Today is my wedding day, and nothing is more urgent than my bride.” No matter what it was, Matthew would address it later. He would not cast Fortuity aside when she had only just arrived. She was his priority.
Thebson nodded, then disappeared to do as requested.
“But if the messenger said it was urgent,” Fortuity said, “you should see to it. It could be something regarding your cousins in the country.”
His cousins could go to the devil, but he refrained from saying that aloud. Not that he no longer cared about them, but they had created nothing but problems ever since he had rescued them from India. He shook his head. “You are my priority, and we have only just arrived home.” He meandered around the room, motioning to the shelves filled with several of his favorite books. “I thought you might enjoy these. They might even provide helpful resources for your stories. Is the color right? I read somewhere that color can sometimes influence thoughts.”
“The color?”
“Of the room. Draperies. Walls. The earthy tones of the rug?”
“I adore the pale greens and browns.” She hugged herself as she looked all around. “I feel as though I have stepped into an enchanted forest. It is perfect, Matthew. Absolutely perfect.”
“As you are, my little wren.”
She ducked her head as she rose from the chair and went to the window. He noticed her fingers trembled slightly as she idly ran them across the folds of the damask draperies in the soft shade of green the window dresser had recommended. “You do not have to try so hard, Matthew. I know you never wanted this, but I shall do my very best to make it as painless as possible.”
His heart fell.Damn and blast it all.He had overplayed his hand and failed. At a loss for how to make it right, he went to her and held out his hand. “Our tea is ready in the parlor, my lady,” he said quietly.
With a wan smile, she took his hand. “Yes. Tea will be nice.”
They moved down the hall in strained silence. When they reached the parlor door, she paused and laid a hand on his arm. “Why don’t you see to your urgent message? Then we can enjoy our tea at our leisure. I shall wait for you in the parlor.”
Something about the way she said it felt both like a dismissal and a request for some time to herself. He gave her a polite nod. “As you wish, my lady. I shall return to you shortly.”
“Take your time, my lord.”
He almost flinched, but stopped himself just in time and offered her another nod instead. Winning his wife’s heart and her trust would be more difficult than he thought.
*
Whatever this gamewas, Matthew needed to just stop. Fortuity paced the length of the large parlor that had formerly always reminded her of a delightfully cluttered reading room, a room she had fallen in love with as deeply as she loved Matthew. But the scattered stacks of books were gone, removed from every table, chair, and shelf. He had blamed the cats, and from what she had observed upon meeting the fearsome four, that excuse seemed plausible enough.
She rubbed her hands together as she paced, wishing their nervous dampness would cease. She hated this tense situation, and it was obvious Matthew hated it as well. Why else would he try so hard to make her feel as if he wanted her here? Thedearestring, the cats, and now that breathtaking office of her very own? Did he not realize how much his kindnesses torturedher? She already loved him, would go so far as to say she adored him, even though he only thought of her as a friend. Why could he not just leave her be and give her the time she needed to get her feelings under control, so they might manage this uncomfortable arrangement? Surely, he didn’t wish to break her heart more than he already had? He had never been cruel.
Approaching footsteps down the hallway alerted her that her much-needed time alone had ended all too soon. She forced a smile and turned toward the doorway, then alarm shot through her. “Matthew, what is it?”
He had gone quite pale, a feat in and of itself, since the man had always looked like he spent a great deal of time out of doors even in the dead of winter. Part of it was his natural coloring; the rest was his passion for riding. These things kept his skin from being considered fair in any sense of the word. He had never possessed what she and her sisters had dubbed as the usual pasty peerage pallor. His weathered handsomeness lent a wildness to him, drawing her in and daring her to love him. But his current lack of color concerned her.
She went over and led him to the settee in front of the table set with their tea. “Matthew? Tell me. You look as though someone you know has died.”
“I did not know them. Onlyofthem.” He stared straight ahead at nothing, scowling at whatever he was seeing in his mind.
“Tell me where the brandy is and I shall pour you some. I do not believe tea will be sufficient for whatever is troubling you.”
He didn’t answer, just kept opening and closing his fists where they rested on his knees.
Fine. She would find the brandy herself. Turning, she spotted a likely cabinet and went to it. Upon opening the double doors at its front, she discovered several crystal decanters and the sort of glasses best used for port or brandy. She chose the honey-colored liquid, unstoppered it, and gingerly sniffed the contents. The heady smell of fermented peaches heated her nostrils and made her nose twitch. Rather than pour it into a glass, she carried the decanter back to the table and poured him a generous cupful.
“Would you like some tea with your brandy?” she asked, realizing too late that she had left little room in the cup for anything other than the strong drink. “If you do, I need you to drink some of this first so I can fit it in there.”
Still staring off into nothingness, he held out his hand. “No. Neat is perfect.”
She wasn’t certain whatneatmeant, but he took the cup, drank from it, and didn’t complain, so she must’ve gotten it right. After pouring herself a cup of nothing but tea, she sat beside him and waited, remembering how Mama had always treated Papa whenever he was upset. Her mother had silently supported her father until he was ready to share whatever problem had him worried.
Matthew downed the contents of his cup, then stared down into it as if surprised it was empty.
“Shall I pour you another?” she asked.
