His horse was gone, and he looked around quickly for a solution, but John did not stop, charging ahead.
“Bring me Charger!” he shouted, and within moments, his horse was led out of the stables and handed over.
John handed Matthew the reins, his eyes searching Matthew’s as he did. Sadness and perhaps even fear were evident in that gaze, but Matthew had no words at this moment.
The only emotions running through him were anger at his uncle and his own fear that he would not reach Diana in time or would not be able to convince her of his regard—no, of his love for her.
All he could do was clap a hand on John’s shoulder for a moment, hoping to convey his appreciation, before he swung himself onto the saddle and raced away.
Chapter Nineteen
There was the Marshalls’ house. And the Parkers.’ And as Diana stared at each of the houses they passed, she wondered just what she was going to tell them. What she was going to tell… anyone.
What would she tell her family?
She dropped her head into her hands, thinking of what she’d just lost.
Matthew. The man she thought she would always hate. The man she had been so convinced had ruined her life.
And now… now she wished more than anything that she was there, in their home, spending time with him.
“Your Grace?”
Her eyes darted to Margaret, who was watching her with a sad expression of her own.
“We shall have to tell them what has happened,” Diana told her softly.
“I am not concerned about them, Your Grace.”
“I wish that I could be unconcerned as well,” Diana mumbled. “I wish that I did not have to tell my father that I have failed at my marriage.”
As they rode through the streets of London, she could feel Margaret’s eyes on her, filled with sympathy and compassion. But there was nothing that would make her feel better. Not now. Not when she had lost everything she hadn’t even realized she wanted.
“Your Grace?”
“Please, Margaret. I can’t… I haven’t any energy left to speak,” she protested.
“Your Grace!”
“Margaret,” she began again, but then she looked up and saw the frantic look on Margaret’s face as she glanced out the carriage window. “What’s wrong? What is it?”
She glanced out the other window and then peered out Margaret’s when she could see nothing but dust billowing up.
“Is that…”
“The Duke,” Margaret announced.
“Stop the carriage!” his voice called out loudly.
Diana felt the carriage slow down as the driver pulled on the reins. And then the door was flung open and she was staring straight into a pair of deep brown eyes she had thought she was never going to see again.
“Matthew.” His name spilled out of her lips on barely a breath, and that frantic look in his eyes seemed to ease slightly just with that single word.
“Diana… My Diana…”
Her heart swelled at his words, and she felt hope blossom in her chest.
Was his uncle wrong? Was there some hope? But Matthew didn’t seem to know what to say. Because he was staring at her, completely silent, searching her face as though he was drinking her in.
