This time it was Peter who sighed.
“I see.”
Then he shook his head.
“But still, this is not right. Why do I feel as if I am watching that scene in A Midsummer Night’s?—”
The laughter that erupted from Matteo took Peter aback. Indeed, the look on Peter’s face told Matteo that his friend thought him insane. Perhaps hehadgone insane.
He sat down again, took the glass of brandy from the table, and downed its contents in one gulp. He felt the liquid burn a line down his throat.
“For once in my life, I can be of real use to someone,” Matteo said. Then, in a quiet voice, he added, “Let it be for her, let it be for Helena.”
He stood up suddenly and went to Peter, putting his hand on his friend’s shoulder. He smiled at the closest friend that he had in the world. Perhaps the only person in his life to have really cared for him.
“Thank you, Peter,” Matteo said solemnly. “You have been the only one…”
Peter nodded just as solemnly at the unfinished words, understanding Matteo completely.
“You deserve more than you think, Matteo.”
“Hmm.”
He patted his friend on the back, then Matteo walked to the door. He had nearly reached it when it suddenly opened to reveal Dahlia.
“Matteo, what a surprise! You?—”
One look at Matteo and Dahlia knew that something was very wrong. She looked from him to Peter, then back again. Her eyes were searching for an answer. When her husband remained silent, Dahlia turned to their friend hesitantly.
“Matteo?”
Matteo went to Dahlia, laid his hand on her stomach, and then kissed her cheek. He gently chucked her chin and smiled a sad smile. Then, without another word, he strode out the door.
Chapter Twenty-Six
The Earl of Huntington was due to return to Huntington House that day. And as soon as he did, Mr. Keble would send word to Matteo that her father would be waiting for him.
Helena watched the clock on her mantlepiece tick as she lay on her bed. She would give herself a few more minutes, and then she must force herself to rise. But when the time came, her body felt like it was made of lead, weighing her down more and more.
A knock on the door told her that Sally, coming at her usual time, was ready to start dressing her for the day.
“Good morning, m’lady.”
Helena spoke before she could think.
“Sally, I feel a headache coming upon me.”
“Oh, that is most unfortunate, m’lady,” Sally said, looking worried, for Helena had never complained of any illnesses before. “Shall I ask Mrs. Feilding to?—”
“I think it best if I take a rest for now. I shall ring for you when I am better or if I am in need of something. Will you please relay the message to my sisters?”
“Aye, m’lady.”
“Thank you, Sally.”
When Sally left, Helena had almost succumbed to the misery she felt. Tears sprang into her eyes, and she scolded herself for crying.
“What is the matter with you?” Helena whispered, looking up at the canopy of her bed. “Did you not tell Matteo that you must end the engagement? Did you not push for it to happen almost at once?”
