Chapter 36
Chapter Thirty-Six
Matthew
With his wife snuggled against his side, her head pillowed on his shoulder, Matthew stared up into the darkness above them. His finger made idle patterns on her shoulder as he tried to arrange his thoughts.
Tried to decide how he was going to proceed tomorrow without the talisman that had guided so many of his decisions.
He had not done so badly tonight, but there had also been very little for him to do. Social matters were important, of course, but there were easy rules to follow. And, as a duke, very few repercussions when he chose to bend them. Like claiming a dance with his wife or leaving the ball early.
That he’d had Sebastian and Johanna to encourage him, and his grandmother’s approval, had helped immensely. But he could not lean on them for everything. Like matters of the estate.
And then there was the murder of his father and his friends’ fathers.
How was he supposed to assist them without his luck? They were out of clues. The only way forward that he could think of, without information, was luck. Yes, he’d always been lucky in general, but it was the coin that had guided him.
His deepest fear—the one that hurt to even think about—what if his luck had abandoned him along with his coin?
At some point, he would find a gaming table to test the possibility. Even the thought of it made his stomach turn over, though. That would have to wait until he was sure he could face the answer.
Johanna’s hand slid up from his stomach to the center of his chest as she shifted against him, and Matthew reached to hold it.
“What are you thinking about?” she asked softly.
He had thought she’d fallen asleep, due to her even breathing, but apparently not.
“My luck,” he admitted. Somehow, it was easier to say under the cover of darkness.
He could not see her, and she could not see him.
And his coin was not there to tell him not to say what he wanted to.
“I… I probably should have told you before, though it’s possible it has no bearing on us and our future.
But, you know how my father and my friends’ fathers were all killed in a tragic accident? ”
She went very still beside him.
“Yes.”
“It was no accident.” The relief that came with being able to finally tell her was strong.
“They were murdered, and we are searching for the murderer. In fact, we believe it was a conspiracy, so we are doing it secretly, because we believe that the only threat will come if it’s known we suspect the truth. ”
“I… I know.”
Matthew blinked, shifting slightly, but it was far too dark to see her face. Which had made his confession much easier, but now he wished he could see her expression.
“You do? How— Oh.” He shook his head, relaxing back against the pillow as the realization struck him. “The other duchesses.”
“Yes.” She let out a soft exhale that stirred the hair across his chest. “The other duchesses told me. The day after our wedding.”
“Oh. Well. Good.” He chuckled, feeling much lighter now. “That’s a relief.”
“They are very put out that they are not able to engage in the search as much as you gentlemen are.”
“Ah, well. I am not sure what good they could do right now. The investigation has reached a standstill.” He explained to her about Gregory’s old steward, the threatening letters Nathanial’s father had received, and why he, Christian, and Drake had been in the brothel the fateful evening of her auction.
Then he told her about questioning Cornwall and his frustration at the current direction of the investigation.
Did it really matter who had suggested Cornwall invite Hereford to the lodge?
To his surprise, he felt his wife growing tenser and tenser against his side as he spoke. He rubbed his hand along her upper arm, trying to reassure her.
“There’s no need to worry, kitten. No one outside of our group knows we suspect our fathers were murdered, much less that we’re investigating. There should be no danger.”
“It is not that.” She turned her face into his shoulder, and Matthew felt a spark of alarm at the wetness he felt against his skin. Was she crying?
Turning to her, he released her hand so he could wrap both arms around her, holding her tightly against him. Felt her burrow into him. Felt her start to shake as she began to cry.
“Kitten,” he said gently, stroking his hand over her head and down the long length of her hair, “what’s wrong?”
“I… I…”
“Tell me.”
“I cannot.” She shook her head, but he could feel the tension in her body, the conflict within her. She wanted to tell him. She felt she could not.
Matthew kept stroking her, petting her. If he’d had his coin, he would have offered it to her. But he only had himself.
“You can,” he said softly. “Whatever it is, it cannot be all that bad.”
“It is, though, it is.”
Johanna
Her husband’s gentle reassurance was going to be her undoing.
She felt so safe in his arms, so protected, as though nothing could go wrong.
The urge to tell him was growing stronger within her.
Keeping this secret was tearing her apart, yet the unknown of what would happen once she told him was even more terrifying.
He did not have his coin, though. However he reacted, whatever he did, her mother’s fate would not hang on the random flip of luck.
“I promise, whatever it is, you can tell me.” His voice was so gentle, so sincere. So coaxing.
Her stomach fluttered, her heart aching within her chest, a physical pulsing ache that made it hard to breathe.
“I…”
She wanted to.
She so badly wanted to. The dark room around them, the cozy snugness of her bed, made it feel like maybe she could tell him. As though if she said it here and now, in the privacy of her room, in the dark, it would still be a secret. Yet she knew that was not true.
“What can I say to make you believe me?” His fingers slid through her hair, the strands slightly tugging on her scalp in a way that was almost hypnotic.
Everything about him, his words, his touch, made her feel safe. Made her want to trust him. Made her want to tell him. What could he say to make her believe she could tell him? What would she need to feel safe to confess?
“I… I need your word that you will protect my mother.” The rush of relief that she felt as she made the request confirmed this was what she needed.
His hand on her hair stilled.
“Your mother?”
His confusion would have been comical if the situation were not so dire. She almost laughed, despite herself.
“Yes. Your word that you will protect my mother, no matter what I tell you.”
He hugged her close again, stroking her hair the way he had been before.
“Of course I will protect your mother. My word on it as a duke.” He chuckled. “May I never find my lucky coin again should I break it.”
There was no ‘of course’ about it, but his words did give her some relief. Even if he did not want to, once he heard what she had to say, she did believe he would hold to his promise.
Thankfully, it was so dark, she would not have to see his face. Would not have to see if his expression changed from tenderness to anger or even hate. If it were not so dark, she did not think she would be brave enough to say the words.
“I… my mother… the Duke of Clarence’s steward bought sleeping potions from my mother.” The words came out in a rush, and even though she could not see his face, she screwed her eyes shut as tightly as she could, her shoulders hunching as she waited to see if he would push her away from him.
Matthew’s fingers in her hair slowed but did not stop.
“Alright,” he said cautiously.
Obviously, he did not understand the magnitude of what she was saying. She would have to explain more.
It felt like dying as she forced each word from her mouth.
“He bought them from her mere weeks before your fathers were murdered.” Johanna took a deep breath, feeling as though she had just run for miles.
Weariness, not physical but a kind of soul weariness, pulled at her.
“It is possible, likely even, that they could have been used to keep the dukes asleep after the explosion. To ensure they perished in the fire.”
There. She had done it. She had said it.
Confession was supposed to be good for the soul, but all she felt was resigned to whatever happened next.
For better or for worse.
Matthew
His wife’s words circled round his head, and it did not make sense to him right away, though he could practically feel the fear emanating from her. Fear that he did not understand.
“Your mother provided Gregory’s steward with sleeping potions?
” he asked, wanting to be sure that he understood everything she was saying and figure out exactly what she was afraid of.
Rather than answering him verbally, she nodded, which he felt as she moved her head against his shoulder.
“And you think it’s possible that those potions were used to keep my father and the others asleep, to ensure their deaths? ”
Another nod he felt against his shoulder. He stroked his fingers through her hair.
Matthew let out a long breath of air, turning it over in his mind.
“What do I need to protect your mother from?” he asked finally. His wife stirred beside him.
“She helped to murder your father. All of your fathers. All dukes.”
“Did she know what the potions would be used for?”
“No. She had no idea.” Johanna sighed. “She is not even certain they were used, but it makes sense. I… I did not know how you would feel once you knew. Or how the others would feel. If they would blame her.”
Ah. Well. That did make more sense. Matthew had not considered that aspect.
“I do not blame her,” he said immediately. “Even if her potions were used.”
Such a plot would be diabolical, but it also made an unfortunate amount of sense. Whoever was behind the murder of his father and the other dukes was diabolical. They’d already used Gregory’s steward. A man who had a considerable amount of hatred for Gregory’s father, but none for the other dukes.
And he’d reached out to Johanna’s mother. A woman desperate for money, who would keep quiet, if she even realized what she’d unwittingly become a part of. Perhaps it had not even been his idea. Perhaps he’d been directed.
“Will your friends blame her?”
“I…” Matthew’s voice trailed off. He wanted to reassure Johanna and tell her that, of course, none of them would, but he could not be sure. If he had his coin, he would know whether or not it was safe to tell them. But he did not. “I do not think so.”
He could feel her burrow her face against him.
Matthew slid his hand to cradle her head, pulling it back so he could brush his lips over hers, so she could feel him even though they could not see each other.
“I will protect your mother, kitten,” he whispered in the darkness. “My word on it.”
“Thank you,” she whispered back.
When she kissed him, he could taste the salt of her tears, and he internally vowed to see that she never had cause to shed another over worry for her mother. As long as that was in his control.
As they kissed, she clung to him in the dark, and he felt his cock begin to thicken again. Rolling her onto her back, they moved together as one. It was achingly intimate, almost painful in its intensity, lovemaking that left him gasping in more ways than one.
He did not have his coin to give him a definitive answer, but Matthew was beginning to suspect that he very well may be in love with his wife.