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Chapter Twenty
Matthew had often imaginedhow different his life would be once he confronted Welliver—satisfaction, elevation, triumph.Instead, he was stirred to a new depth of irritation.He wasn’t correcting anything.He was revealing all his character weaknesses to the one woman he wanted to impress.
Money couldn’t buy her respect or love.Money couldn’t buy theton’s respect either.The years he’d spent trying seemed wasted.
Now that the gala was over, Matthew was faced with a week of meetings with farm managers, business managers, accountants and clerks.Winters arrived for his biweekly meeting, bringing with him a schedule for upcoming races at Buxton and announcing a sale of horses to occur in a month’s time.Hell, Matthew had forgotten all about his promise to Bobby.Winters went through three estate ledgers and discussed the fall harvest and cattle culling that would take place before winter.Matthew was normally attuned to income streams, and weather events and harvest celebrations but he was still thinking about Rose’s reaction to his accusations against Sandhurst.
He’d explained what he knew.Rose couldn’t believe it.
At the end, all she had said was to leave Sandhurst be.
Sandhurst’s erratic behaviors had obviously frightened Rose.Couple that with his power as a guardian and Matthew could see why Rose wanted to pretend Cyril didn’t exist.
The conversation he and Jack had with Cyril’s regimental commander had been full of “yes, but” and “perhaps” but certainly he wasn’t going to accuse a duke of anything.His betters could ruin his military career.It seemed the man knew much more than he was revealing.Erraticwas the strongest word the commander had used.That wasn’t criminal.
But Matthew wasn’t made that way.He couldn’t ignore Cyril Elliston’s deceit and threats.What he hadn’t mentioned to Rose was the catalyst that had caused Matthew to start peeking at the letters and notes coming out of Sandhurst—the death by misadventure of Edmond Elliston.It was a juicy story with dark undertones, just the sort of story to sell more copies of theDaily Informer, but not without proof.
He wasn’t accusing Cyril of that misdeed; Matthew’s suspicions were his own.The contents of the letter were real though, and Rose’s concerns were no longer a secondary consideration.
The threat of and the practice of conspiracies seemed to grow in Britain like bad weeds.What were Lord Liverpool and the British ministers who had been targeted by the Cato Street conspirators going to do to prevent other such scandals?
Would Cyril find other like-minded collaborators in another plot?Even if Matthew could convince Lord Liverpool there was a powerful conspirator still in the wind, what would he do about it?Was it Matthew’s business to protect British cabinet ministers and members of the House of Lords?Or was it Matthew’s business to make sure Rose and the girls were safe?And who knew what Cyril’s reaction would be if he ever discovered the truth that drove Rose to seek a quick, unconventional marriage.He was reminded why he guarded his secrets so closely.
It all stuck in Matthew’s craw.
At the end of the day, he sat back in his chair knowing what would make a difference: making Rose happy and helping the rest of his brothers and sisters.He hadn’t even asked the duke for the new information about his other two siblings in Derbyshire.He jotted off a note to the duke rather than see him or the old besom again.
He heard Rose’s footsteps in the hallway and hurried to the door.“Rose?”
She glanced up, as she pulled off a bonnet, as if she didn’t know who he was.Slowly, she said, “Yes, Mr.Hardy?”
“How was your day?”
“I was in London.We spent the day with Abigail.”
“Oh, I didn’t know you were gone.Come to think of it, I didn’t hear the girls all day.”
