Page 55 of What a Widow Wants

“Indeed, so do I when he hears.” Spoiling to give the woman her comeuppance, Fanny tried to make her voice as sympathetic as possible. “He has been so . . . disturbed recently.”

Her sister-in-law stopped and turned slowly around, her jaw clenched.

“Even the servants have spoken about his outbursts of anger and”—she hushed her voice—“other things.” She shook her head. “I daresay something like this might unhinge him completely.”

The color drained from Lavinia’s face. She stared at Fanny, wringing her hands, then drew a deep, shuddering breath. “I had best get back to making arrangements for the family to gather here during the holidays.” Lavinia backed toward the door. “It is rather inconvenient to spend it here where we have fewer rooms than at the estate in Northumberland; however, I will make accommodations.” The marchioness sped out of the doorway, her heels clacking down the corridor until the sound was finally lost.

Fanny sat back in her seat, all her bravado fled. Tears trickled down her face and she let them fall. She would never marry Matthew now, that much was certain. Despite his mother’s claims to the contrary, infidelity, and especially infidelity that resulted in a child not of her husband’s body, must be an abomination. His own absence these past weeks proved he no longer wished to have anything to do with her. He would not risk the scandal their alliance would surely create.

Lavinia certainly believed disgrace was imminent. Fanny herself didn’t recall hearing such things spoken of in ton circles, but then she’d paid less attention to gossip unless it concerned her own reputation. She’d been much more intent on the next on-dit that linked Stephen’s name to another woman rather than one about what another woman was doing to her husband. Nevertheless, what she’d done had been a sin in the eyes of God and in the eyes of the ton. Her only doubt, in the end, was who would sit in stricter judgment of her.

CHAPTER 23

As his valet put his cases down in the small dressing room adjoining the bedroom, Matthew stripped off his gloves, uneasy to be back in Wrotham. He’d been in two minds about attending Lady Cavendish and Wrotham’s wedding in the first place. They were Fanny’s friends more so than his, although his invitation had been addressed to him alone. He couldn’t assume Fanny had told her friends about their estrangement, although if they had been informed it had not been reflected in his lodgings. Lyttlefield Park apparently housed friends of the bride and groom, while Wrotham Hall accommodated their family members. Despite that assignment, he’d arrived determined to be pleasant no matter what.

He should not have come at all, but he’d not been able to resist the chance to see Fanny again. His head had cooled long since the day he’d strode out of the receiving room at Theale House, incensed at her confession. Still, her absence from his life had made it a merry hell. He missed her every day, just as before, but would not allow himself to entertain the idea of seeing her again. Her betrayal bit deep into his soul, in a place reason couldn’t reach. Once or twice he thought he’d caught a glimpse of her about London—shopping or the like, but had forced himself to ignore her. As a result, he’d been moody and ill-tempered to the staff at his town house, to members at his club, even to his family when they arrived in London for the Little Season. His refusal to accompany them to ton events had infuriated Beatrice and grieved his mother. But he’d feared a chance encounter with Fanny would shake his resolve.

Therefore, he didn’t understand at all what he was doing in Kent, where he certainly would see her. Had that been the plan in his heart ever since he’d received the invitation? The urge to come to the wedding had been undeniable. Did that mean he was ready to talk with her? To take her back? Would she have him at this point? Never certain about anything regarding Fanny, Matthew sent up a prayer for a clear head and a steady hand.

Dinner that night was a lively event. Wedding guests and family had converged on Wrotham with a vengeance, causing some room mishaps in both houses. From Lord Brack he understood that his sister Lady Georgina had actually been moved from her room at Lyttlefield Park, where she’d resided for some time, to share a room with her brother. Upon hearing that, Lady Cavendish had instead proposed she give up her chamber to Lady Georgina and move into her soon-to-be-husband’s suite. It had all been sorted out eventually, making for an amusing story and Wrotham’s excellent wine and spirits had flowed well into the night. Matthew hadn’t been able to speak to Fanny, although he’d admired her from the far end of the table.

Dressed in her favorite green, this time an emerald velvet that shone richly in the candlelight, she had laughed and talked with a handsome young man Matthew didn’t know. Tinges of the green monster rose in him, jealous of the man’s close proximity to Fanny. He’d better simply admit he was still besotted with the woman and be done with it. His heart beat madly whenever he gazed at her and any resolve he’d maintained in London had long crumbled. Best make his peace with her either tonight or before the service in the morning.

Having come to this conclusion, he allowed the evening’s jocularity to raise his spirits and give him hope of a civil meeting between them on the morrow. What he wanted to say to her, however, still eluded him.

Next morning, turned out in a dark blue square-cut jacket, striped waistcoat, and pale gray trousers, Matthew stood in front of the tiny St. George’s church in Wrotham village, gazing about for someone to talk to before heading into the church. Everyone hurried about, seeming bent on duties to which he was not privy, leaving him literally the odd man out in the proceedings. Almost of a mind to take his seat inside, Matthew paused as a carriage swept up before the door. Moments later Lady Georgina, Lady John, and Fanny alighted all chattering and laughing together.

The pang of remorse that shot through his heart made him wince. Beautiful as always, in a leaf green pelisse, she made every reason he should still be angry with her fly out of his head, as he’d known she would. He’d wanted to hold on to his anger, for not being told of her pregnancy, or about the existence of his daughter for the past six years had hurt abominably. Whether or not he believed she had not known seemed irrelevant. She should have realized it was a possibility from the beginning and informed him. Seeing her now, well, the need for her to admit she’d been wrong seemed childish. He started toward her, but she had turned together with her friends and headed into the church. No matter, he’d speak with her after the ceremony. A happy time when they might set their differences straight and look toward the future once more.

* * *

Wedding guests poured out of St. George’s as though fleeing a dragon, though the cause for the exodus was thankfully much less dire. Mrs. Easton, apparently overcome by emotion at the wedding, had swooned. While she was being seen to by her group of friends, Matthew had taken charge and shepherded out as many wedding guests as he could, giving the tiny group huddled around Mrs. Easton the chance to revive her. The woman likely needed a bit of rest and some fresh air to set her to rights. Ladies, in his experience, swooned often and usually at the most inappropriate times.

Most of Lady Wrotham’s family in attendance had left in their carriages while the local parishioners had set out on foot toward Wrotham Hall for the extravagant wedding breakfast prepared there. Matthew, however, elected to remain until Fanny emerged. Perhaps she would agree to ride back to Wrotham with him.

“I must say I did not expect to see you here today, Matthew.”

He spun around to encounter hard blue eyes gazing at him from Fanny’s unsmiling face. “Fanny. I . . . I’d hoped to see you here.”

“You did? I might ask why.” The harsh planes of her face retained their beauty, though it was a terrible beauty all the same. “A trip to Kent seems rather a lot of trouble to go to to see me when you could have made a ten-minute carriage ride to call on me in London.” Her mouth hardened. “Why are you here, Matthew?”

“I wanted to know how you were doing. You and Ella.”

Her delicate eyebrows swooping up, Fanny laughed. The shrill sound sent a shudder down his back. “After you abandoned us, you mean? Fine, we are just fine. Are you satisfied? I wish you a pleasant journey all the way back to London.” She turned on her heel.

“Fanny.” He grasped her elbow, spinning her back to him a bit more forcefully than he’d intended. The woman could infuriate him more than anyone of his acquaintance and still he wanted her. Proof of his love for her if ever there was one.

“I will ask you to release me before I cause a scene. One more sensational scene today will likely go unremarked, but one never knows. You might get the reputation you deserve after all.”

“I had no idea my company was now so abhorrent to you.” Releasing her arm, Matthew stepped back, hands raised. “Please forgive the mistake. It will not be repeated.” Clenching his teeth to prevent railing at her even more, Matthew bowed and strode off in the direction of his carriage.

A quick trip back to Lyttlefield Park and a hasty retreat before the situation became even uglier. What had turned Fanny so completely against him? True, he’d not attempted to visit her in the past month, but after that confession at Theale House, how could she think he’d immediately wish to see her again? Neither had she attempted any contact with him during the ensuing six weeks. Was there something other than his lack of attendance on her mind? Had she perhaps had another offer of marriage and intended to accept it and so was breaking with him for once and all? Although it was early afternoon, by the time he could be packed, it would be too dark to leave. He would remain overnight and discover the truth behind her scorn if he could before leaving tomorrow. Forever.

* * *

Heart thumping all the way back to Charlotte’s carriage, Fanny flung herself into the conveyance and burst into tears.

“Fanny! My dear, what has happened?” Elizabeth, who had revived, leaned forward and grabbed her hands.