Page 6 of Beguiling the Duke

“I wonder what it could be,” Lizzie said.

Matthew grimaced, his gaze falling on her lips, then meeting her eyes again. “I have no idea. Whatever it is, it can’t be more important than this. But St. Ervan wouldn’t have sent for me if he didn’t need me.”

He began to walk toward the door but paused and turned back. “I will look for you when I’m finished, if it’s not too late.”

“Come to my room,” she said simply. That told him everything he needed to know.

Matthew strode down the hall to St. Ervan’s study and rapped softly on the door to await his friend’s invitation to enter.

“Come,” called the voice within.

When Matthew entered, St. Ervan rose from his desk. Before Matthew could speak, the earl motioned to a chair near the burning fire.

Lady Amelia, Matthew’s former fiancée and now the wife of Mr. Milton Finley, sat primly, watching his reaction.

Stunned, Matthew couldn’t think of a thing to say.

St. Ervan filled the awkward silence. “Lady Amelia has joined us for the rest of the week.”

Matthew bowed his head in greeting. Questions raced through his thoughts, but he couldn’t decide which to ask first. “What a surprise.”

She smiled, her face the same serene mask he hadn’t been able to see through all those years ago when he thought himself in love. “It was a last-minute decision to visit Verity. I didn’t know you were here.”

He wondered if she would have stayed away, had she known. “Your husband is with you? Mr.—er…”

“Mr. Finley is no longer my husband.” Lady Amelia shifted in her chair, turning toward the fire.

Matthew waited for more. Had her father insisted on a divorce? How could he have imagined that would be better for her than being married to a bookseller?

“If I may,” St. Ervan spoke up. “Mr. Finley was in fact Mr. Eggleton. There’s more to his tale, but there’s no need to discuss it now.”

Matthew glanced at the liquor bottles on a side table and met St. Ervan’s gaze. The earl nodded, so he poured two glasses, then studied the engraved bottle labels chained around their throats. “Lady Amelia, would you care for a brandy?”

“Thank you, no. If you don’t mind, I shall retire to my room. I’m exhausted from my trip here. Good night, gentlemen.” She rose gracefully, curtseyed, and left the room.

“Good night,” they both said.

Handing St. Ervan one of the glasses of whisky, Matthew took a seat in front of the desk. He sipped silently for a minute or two as he soaked in what he’d just learned. “So she was never married.”

“Not legally, no.” St. Ervan swirled the amber liquid in his glass but didn’t drink.

“I can’t imagine she was aware of the situation before she married. Her father wasn’t forcing her to consider me as a suitor, even though I believed we were courting.” The old wound didn’t open but the scar tissue, if there was such a thing, ached anew. He felt no joy that she’d been fooled into loving a liar. He felt even less emotion knowing she was single.

“We didn’t invite her to stay with us this week. She told Verity she feels rather lost. She’s embarrassed to go home to her parents, and didn’t stay in contact with her friends when she married beneath her standing.”

Nodding, Matthew said, “The young ladies she called friends were snobs, for the most part. If they welcomed her now, it would only be to discover new on-dits to share. Thank you for not turning her away.”

“We’d never do that, unless she’d deliberately injured you or someone we care about. Honestly, I’m surprised she decided to stay when she heard who our guests are. It is Christmas, though, and many of the activities include our neighbors, who are not as randy and lascivious as our friends. Who knows, after she’s had a good night’s rest, she might reconsider.”

Matthew should be so lucky. Everyone knew about their past, how he’d been left behind. Not at the altar, necessarily, but heartbroken none the same. But he wasn’t the same man he was then. He’d barred the door to his heart and allowed no woman in. He knew of his reputation since Lady Amelia and didn’t care. The women he seduced knew who he was, what he wanted, and what he offered in return. None complained. They enjoyed what he offered, and wanted nothing more.

His thoughts drifted to the woman waiting for him upstairs. Lizzie. Lady Elborough. He’d heard that she felt the same about matters of the heart versus the body’s needs. Perhaps her reasons were different—he hoped they were. He wasn’t heartless. Let the woman have her lost love, a shining moment in her past.

“Will you be staying?” St. Ervan asked.

“Of course.” Without thinking, he glanced at the ceiling, then caught himself and downed the last of his drink.

“Is she waiting for you?”