He removed his hand and placed it in his lap.
When she woke, would she welcome his touch?
Drenched in sweat, hardly able to move, he lifted his shaking arms to his face and wiped his forehead with his sleeve. What he wouldn’t give to lie down next to her, hold her, andsleep. Instead, he moved to the other side of the room, to the fireplace along the wall.
Leaning his arms on the mantel, he cradled his head in the crook of his elbow. The faint scent of coal smoke rose from the fireplace, even though a fire hadn’t been lit there in years.
He ought to burn the house to the ground.
When he closed his eyes, he saw his mother dying from a wasting disease in the same bed that now held Jasmine. Echoing in the empty halls, he could almost hear the wailing of his sisters after he told them their father had died in an accident. Whenever he passed the dining room, he saw Seth on the table, bleeding from a gunshot wound, after Sir Reginald shot him instead of Cassandra.
And as always, Matthew had cleaned up the mess.
Now—on every surface of this godforsaken house—he saw blood. Coating the floor, his clothing—on hishands,and on thepitchers of water it took to wash them clean. They never feltcleanagain—
“Matthew?” Cassandra’s voice trailed from the hallway.
Cassandra and Caroline entered the room and rushed to Jasmine.
“Oh, God,”Caroline cried and knelt by the bedside, holding Jasmine’s hand.
Matthew moved to join her, but Cassandra touched his elbow.
“Adrian told me everything,” she said. “A physician should be here shortly, and Jasmine needs to be readied. I’ll take it from here.”
Matthew shook his head. “I’m not leaving.”
“We need to remove her dress,” Cassandra said. “Give us some privacy.”
“No. I’ve alreadyseenher—”
“Not like this,” she whispered gently. “Let her have her dignity.”
She waited there with reddened eyes, swollen with unshed tears, and Matthew nodded.
“Seth is downstairs with Adrian. Wait with them,” she said. “Aunt Valentine and Uncle Edward should be here soon.”
Jasmine whimpered softly. Cassandra went to her side and spoke in hushed tones, as if talking to her daughter, Rose. “We need to get you out of that gown. Will you help me? Can you give me your arm? Yes, like that sweetheart—”
Matthew cursed and turned to leave—while he still could. He closed the door behind him and sank to the floor. Wrapping his arms around his legs, he listened to his sister’s muffled voice. He had to do something, because he couldn’t sit there for another minute.
This couldn’t go unpunished.
He rose to his feet and stormed down the steps, making his way to the front door.
Seth exited the sitting room and shot ahead of him. He crossed his arms at the door. Blackmoor followed and leaned against the sitting room doorframe—ready to step in.
Matthew would fight both of them if he had to.
“Where are you going, Matthew?” Seth asked.
“To kill Duke Kendall,” Matthew growled.
“I can’t let you do that. Go sit down.”
Matthew curled his hands into fists. “Stand aside, or I’ll throw you aside.”
Blackmoor moved from the doorframe, and Seth stepped forward, boxing him in, but Matthew wouldn’t yield ground.
