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“Dear God, it’s true,” Mrs. Marston whispered.
“Get your bloody hands off my daughter,” Mr. Marston shouted.
Chapter 13
Matthew stood rooted to the spot. Mary squeezed his arm, whether in fear or comfort, he didn’t know. He should have known everything was proceeding too well with her.
“Did you not hear me?” the man shouted again.
Mary slowly slid her arm out of his and took a step away. Her pallid face confirmed his initial thought—Mr. and Mrs. Marston had arrived.
“I meant no dishonor, sir,” Matthew replied.
“No dishonor?” Mrs. Marston said. “Did you actually think I would let a man like you near my daughter?”
Matthew quickly looked around the room and noticed nearly half the party was still in the salon, watching the sordid scene unfold.
“A man like me?” he asked in a quiet tone.
“A murdering blackguard!” she yelled.
Anger forced his hands into fists. He looked past the Marstons to see Jennette still clinging to the arm of the marquess. Her eyes were huge and full of sympathy. And the last thing he wanted from her was pity.
“Mary, get away from him,” Mrs. Marston said. “This man will never touch you again.”
“But Mother, he is not—”
“Do not disobey me,” Mrs. Marston interrupted.
“Yes, Mother.” Mary looked back at him and sent him a watery smile.
“As for you,” Mrs. Marston took a step forward. “How dare you show your face at a party for decent people? No one who knows what you did will ever let you back in Society. And my daughter won’t be a pawn to help you regain your position.”
“And you shall never get a farthing out of me,” Mr. Marston added.
Matthew inhaled deeply. One thing he’d learned after five years was to walk away. “As you wish,” he said with a nod.
“Murderer,” Mrs. Marston whispered loud enough for half the room to hear.
Several loud gasps circulated the room. Matthew walked toward the door where Jennette stood with her mouth agape.
“Don’t think everyone in the room doesn’t see the look you’re giving her,” Mrs. Marston’s acid voice sounded again. “To this day I will never understand how her reputation remained intact. In my opinion you ruined her and you will not do that to my daughter.”
Matthew blew out a loud breath and counted to ten.
“And you,” Mrs. Marston turned her attention to Jennette. “How could your mother allow you in the same room as this murderer? He killed your betrothed and almost ruined your name in the process. You’re no better than he is to allow this outrage!”
Matthew turned to Mrs. Marston with an icy fixed stare. “Malign my name all you wish,” he took a menacing step t
oward her, “but don’t ever spread your venom toward Lady Jennette.”
Mrs. Marston’s lips tilted upward in a cynical smile. “So the gossips were right about you loving her.”
God, he hated that rumor. Especially when it was the absolute truth. No matter how he tried to deny it, he’d loved Jennette even then.
He narrowed his eyes and blasted Mrs. Marston with another glare until her mouth dropped and she took a step backward into her husband’s chest. After sufficiently silencing her, he turned and strode from the room, his heart pounding against his chest in futile anger. He was finished with this party and all others.
Ignoring the open stares and whispers, he walked down the hall. The burning, hostile looks only served to increase his anger and frustration. He should have known this mad idea of hers would never work. No one would ever forget what he’d done.
