When a Duchess Says I Do - Grace Burrowes Page 0,97
said. “You spared yourself a thrashing, and my money would have been on Duncan.”
He slugged Duncan on the arm as they reached the side entrance. Duncan bellowed for Manners and Jinks as Jane came swanning down the steps, the baby in her arms.
* * *
No game of chess, no house-party tournament, no high-stakes play had ever taxed Matilda’s mental powers as this game with Lord Atticus Parker taxed her. She must appear overcome with relief to be in his company, though fear rendered her nearly speechless.
She must seem befuddled and full of fanciful misconceptions, while in fact being more clear minded than she’d ever been.
She must be creative, spinning theories on a gossamer web of facts, lies, and suppositions, while she was increasingly certain that Papa was a traitor, else why would the Crown be so persistent in tracking down Thomas Wakefield’s daughter?
Atticus would not still be offering to marry her if he weren’t convinced she was truly at risk of prosecution.
Amid all of this storytelling and strategizing, she must in no way betray the horror she felt at abandoning Duncan without a word. He would be furious, but worse, he would be hurt. She should be glad he’d have good cause to turn his back on her and relieved he’d not become entangled in her problems after all.
She was instead enraged and bereaved, though she could show Atticus none of that.
“You have given me some interesting ideas to consider,” he said, refilling his coffee cup.
They were taking supper in the private dining room. Matilda had spent her afternoon “napping,” which meant no helpful maid had come by who might have been trusted to get a note back to Brightwell. Correspondence was going somewhere, though. While pacing past her window, Matilda had seen a liveried groom canter from the innyard in the direction of London.
Be careful, Papa. Be very careful.
“I have had weeks to think matters over,” Matilda said. “My imagination has run riot with worry, and I will be only too happy to put the whole business behind me.”
Untrue, of course. She wanted Duncan beside her, not this supercilious suitor turned interrogator.
“That will take some time, I’m afraid. Military intelligence likes to make a thorough job of its investigations, and they will have many questions for you.”
Matilda set down her fork. The time had come to advance a few pawns. “I have questions as well, Atticus. You seem to be in possession of many facts pertaining to my situation, but I must ask how you came by them? Papa would never have confided the whole of the problem to you when he was seldom allowed to go anywhere without footmen, a porter, or grooms at his side.”
Some of the smugness left the colonel’s gaze. He was doubtless realizing that every discussion he’d had with Papa had been overheard. Every confidence passed along, every boast or veiled threat had been made before witnesses loyal to Thomas Wakefield.
“I am also curious to know what you were doing in rural Berkshire,” she went on. “You have no relatives in the area that I know of.”
He patted her wrist. “Your ordeal has resulted in a nervous disposition. No matter. I can be patient, and I will answer all of your questions in time. I do have relatives in Bristol and was on my way to visit them.”
“That’s not what your coachman said.”
A good chess player could move a piece while watching her opponent for a reaction to that move. Matilda watched Parker, and his reaction was fleeting but obvious to a practiced eye. He was annoyed and preparing to lie.
“Of course we were looking for you. Every time I walked down a London street I looked for you. When I paid calls on neighbors in Kent, I looked for you. When I endured an interminable house party in Brighton, I looked for you. I listened for word of you in all the club gossip. I waited daily for a note, I importuned your father to leave no stone unturned in his own search. You caused a great deal of upheaval when you disdained the aid of wiser heads, Matilda. I hope you realize that.”
Matilda realized Atticus was trying to make her feel ashamed. His little sermon had the opposite effect, for she was growing angrier with each bite of overly salted ham and each sip of unimpressive wine.
Why hadn’t Papa thought to look for her at Brightwell? He knew she loved the place, knew she’d once dreamed of buying it for herself. Why