When a Duchess Says I Do - Grace Burrowes Page 0,89
look for fear she’d see Jinks preparing to intervene.
A tread on the inn’s front steps sent foreboding skittering up her spine.
“I would know my intended anywhere,” Parker said. “Matilda, I have prayed for your safety nightly, and now the prodigal has been found.”
Matilda turned slowly, all choices and options falling away. She wanted to live. She wanted Duncan to live and to have the freedom to wander as he pleased, secure in the love of his family. She wanted Papa to enjoy a peaceful old age, and she wanted very much to cry.
“Atticus,” she said, stepping toward him. “I’m so glad you’ve found me.”
She wrapped her arms around him, and he enveloped her in a gentle embrace. “Have no fear, Matilda. I’ll ensure that your little queer start has no lasting repercussions, provided you tell me everything.”
She quelled the urge to wallop him and instead nodded. “I will tell you every bit of it, but not in the middle of an innyard, where anyone might overhear. Take me home, Atticus. I want to go home.”
She had no home of her own, and accepting Atticus’s protection meant she never would. She would have what Atticus allowed her and nothing more, though Papa and Duncan would be safe.
“My intended will return with us to London,” Atticus said.
Please, Jinks, become distracted by some birdcall, by the reflection of the sunlight on a mud puddle, by the gossip offered by a passing potboy.
Matilda climbed into the coach unassisted and left the door open for Atticus.
“Eager to be on your way?” he asked, taking a place beside her on the forward-facing bench.
“I’ve learned not to linger in the open,” Matilda said, though her precautions had been inadequate. “I have nothing left of great value to carry with me. We can be on our way immediately.”
“What else have you learned?” Atticus rapped on the roof with his fist.
The opening moves were a delicate and interesting aspect of any chess game. Matilda chose the simplicity of truth, though the feeling of the coach rocking into motion, of being torn from the only haven she’d known, made her chest ache.
“I’ve learned that I am not equal to the challenges faced by women of the lower orders. I’ve learned that I was a fool, and that a head for chess does not imbue me with any ability to fend for myself—just the opposite. I’ve learned to appreciate basic comforts.” And I’ve learned what the love of a good man feels like.
“Why did you disappear, Matilda? Did Wakefield threaten you?”
How concerned Atticus sounded, how ready to be outraged on her behalf. “I know not whose livery the coachman and grooms wear, my lord, and another lesson I’ve learned is that privacy should never be assumed. We can discuss the rest of my situation in London.”
The coach horses set a spanking pace onto the main thoroughfare, despite the muddy condition of the road. Every turn of the wheels made the ache in Matilda’s heart sharper.
What have I done? What will Duncan think?
“We can be in London by nightfall,” Atticus said, “and I took the liberty of getting us a special license. By tomorrow evening we can be married, and Wakefield can’t say anything to it.”
Oh, God.
Oh, Duncan.
“I’d like that.” The lump in Matilda’s throat was the size of Brightwell’s home wood. “I want an end to this situation, Atticus, and if you can guarantee me that Papa and I will be safe, then I am happy to marry you.”
“I can make that promise,” the colonel replied, taking her hand. “Let me handle everything, and your troubles will be over.”
Matilda gazed out the window as Duncan’s woods were lost around a bend in the road. My troubles have in truth just begun.
* * *
Odd emotions stirred as Duncan made his way up Brightwell’s back stairs. Stephen’s half-finished construction project meant the railing between the ground and first floors was missing, and the smell of sawdust permeated the air.
Change had come to Brightwell. The staff had been in a cleaning frenzy, the footmen had scrubbed the library from shelves to grates, and the garden was being retrieved from ruin. This house could have become the home Matilda had longed for, but that wasn’t meant to be.
“Have you seen Miss Matilda?” Duncan asked a maid scurrying past.
“Not since I came upon her—” The maid blushed as only a redhead could blush. “Not since she broke her fast, sir.”
Came upon her in your bed. Duncan should have been mortified rather than amused.