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“To what purpose?You needed a husband, and I wanted a wife.And our mutual interests met beneath the stars and the rafters of Dante’s Hell.”
“Have you ever seen a puzzle map?Dissected pieces that a child fits together to learn geography?This is a puzzle I will figure out, but I would be happier if you told me now.And please, whatever you tell me, let it be the truth.”
The carriage slowed.“The truth is, we’ve arrived,” he said.
“Are you prepared for the consequences?”she asked.
“What is the worst thing that could happen?I drink a little of Welliver’s wine before he calls me a liar?”
“You are an optimist, Mr.Hardy.But I do hope you find what you are looking for with them, with the family.”
“I have found what I am looking for.With you.And that is the only truth that matters between us.”
One of Welliver’s footman opened the carriage door.Matthew descended and reached back, holding his hand for the beautiful Rose.The Duchess of Sandhurst.His wife.
“Have you noticed the tea caddy on the shelf behind my desk?”
“The old wooden one?”They walked up the stairs.The front door this time, thanks to Rose.
“Well, it’s not actually wood.I found it at the Grand Gala Bazaar several months ago.Caked with mud and mold.Unrecognizable as the treasure it is.”
“Are you describing yourself?”she asked.
He laughed heartily.A butler greeted them inside the door, and he led them to a drawing room.They took a seat and a servant arrived with a tea tray and served them, only asking whether they wanted sugar or milk, before quietly departing.
“You were saying?”Rose asked, as she lifted a cup to her lips.She had no interest in examining the fine room or its rich furnishing.Matthew couldn’t help but stare for a moment at the painting of his brother and wife, next to his father’s portrait.Theirfather.Like gazing in a mirror.
“We do tell children not to stare,” Rose said.
“You think I shouldn’t?”
“If you are interested in art, then yes.”
“He is my father.If there is any human I am interested in staring at, it is him.If only I could see into his soul to understand why he did what he did.To see if he recognized that his offspring would live in poverty because of his actions.One of those vases would have fed the family for six months.”
“No, it wouldn’t have.It’s fake.You can buy one at the Grand Gala Bazaar for a few pence.”
Matthew set aside his cup and stared at Rose.“Fake?”
She nodded.Instead of asking how she knew, he strolled toward the painting.Glancing up, he saw the man he could have been.Maybe hardship had done something to hone him into a better person than his father.Then he remembered the things he had done.Nothing could excuse his treatment of Esther Pennington, but he justified it knowing she was marrying a duke—and all would be well.
As for the extramarital children, no, not like his father.To be sure, there were plenty of underhanded, lying scoundrel-like activities to get him to the position and wealth that he had.Maybe they weren’t so different.
A footman opened the double doors, and an elderly woman dressed in black shuffled forward with the use of a cane and stopped in front of Rose, who had risen to her feet then curtsied deeply.
“Your Grace, it has been many years,” Rose said.
“Your new marriage seems to agree with you,” the woman croaked.
Matthew frowned.Rose glanced back at him, lifting one shoulder, indicating her own confusion.
The aged woman turned to Matthew.“Mr.Hardy, I am the Dowager Duchess of Welliver.Your grandmother.”
