“I don’t—” He stopped and seemed to struggle for what to say. “Isabel, I was angry when I realized you’d lied to me. When I realized who you were.”
She turned her face and tried not to relive that awful moment when he’d confronted her a few nights before. “I’m sorry. I know that is cold comfort and that you don’t truly believe me. But I will keep saying it.”
He reached out, and suddenly his fingers brushed along the top of her hand. Though they both wore gloves, the electric energy that had flowed between them since that first night in the Donville Masquerade came back in an instant. Her body responded to it, even if she knew it shouldn’t.
She lifted her gaze to his and found his gray eyes flitting over her face.
“I was harsh at the Callis party,” he said, his voice low and rough. “I was unkind in my upset. And coarse—I said things a gentleman ought never to say to a lady. I apologize for that.”
Her lips parted, for in that moment the gentleman had returned. The tender lover. The man who had so captivated her in body—and yes, in soul.
“I don’t think I am owed anything,” she said.
“Everyoneis owed a modicum of respect,” he said.
She bent her head. “Well, I thank you for that.”
For a moment it was quiet between them, and she thought he might make his excuses and walk away, the subject between them closed at last with this less emotional meeting and his final apology.
Instead, he lifted a hand and tapped the book that still drooped in her own. The one she’d almost forgot all about.
“What are you buying?” he asked.
She glanced down at it and then held it out so he could inspect it. She blushed as he glided a finger over the gilded title. “The Monk,” he said with a grin. “Mrs. Hayes, you are interested in such scandal.”
She held out her hand for the return of the book even as her cheeks burned. “I’m certain a gothic tale feels very silly to you.”
“On the contrary, I rather like it,” he said with a shrug as he returned it to her custody. “It’s not the best of its genre, though. I think Beckford is a better representation.”
“I agree,” Isabel said with a smile. “Though in some ways, even more scandalous. There are certainly more deals with the devil.”
To her surprise, he laughed at the quip, and she stared. He was so transformed when he talked about a subject that was clearly a passion for him. A passion she shared. But when he laughed, that transformation was even more complete. He seemed so light in that moment, so separated from the troubles that had weighed him down in the short time she had been acquainted with him.
“Isabel?”
They both turned, and Isabel jolted. She had come to Mattigan’s with Sarah, and the moment she had started talking to Matthew, she’d all but forgotten that fact. Now her friend stood just behind them, staring at then with wide, blue eyes.
“Sarah, I’m sorry I got caught up talking to the Duke of Tyndale,” Isabel said, trying not to catch her friend’s eye so that Sarah couldn’t send her messages with her pointed gaze. “Are you acquainted with Miss Sarah Carlton?”
Matthew glanced at her friend. “I believe we’ve met once or twice. Good afternoon, Miss Carlton.”
“Good afternoon, Your Grace,” Sarah said. “It is lovely to see you again.”
“And you,” he said. He cleared his throat. “Well, I’m glad we ran into each other again, Mrs. Hayes.”
She nodded slowly. “As am I. Though I doubt it will happen again, so I suppose this is…farewell.” She almost choked on that last word.
His expression dropped. “You are likely correct. Good—goodbye.”
He inclined his head toward Sarah, then pivoted on his heel out of the aisle. She heard him speaking to Mattigan for a moment, though she couldn’t make out the specific words at this distance, and then the bell at the door rang and he was gone.
She sagged against the bookshelf, her heart pounding wildly with the exchange. She’d thought their final encounter had been at the Callis party, when Matthew had kissed her so passionately, angrily. She’d come to accept that fact.
But this was, in some ways, worse. To have him approach her, apologize to her, even though she didn’t deserve it. To have him connect with her about the book she was buying, like they were old friends. Like what had happened between them was somehow…good…that made it all harder.
“He is very handsome,” Sarah said as she slid an arm through Isabel’s. “I’d forgotten how handsome.”
Isabel snorted out a laugh. “How you could forget is beyond me. It haunts my very dreams.”
