Chapter 44
Chapter Forty-Four
Matthew
There was a small crowd of ladies around his mother-in-law.
She’d begged off attending the Manchester Ball, but once she received her first round of new dresses, Grandmama had insisted she return to Society with them.
So far, her appearance at Lady Jersey’s rout was a massive success.
Lady Jersey and Lady Cowper had both remembered her and been thrilled to see her return to Society—Lady Jersey, particularly, chuffed that her event had been chosen for the honor.
Johanna was with her friends, only a small group of gentlemen willing to dare the group of young but powerful ladies.
Lord Boyd was there, standing next to Rose and endeavoring her to talk.
Across the room, Christian was glaring at Lord Boyd, but he was surrounded by a gaggle of young, pretty things all hoping to catch a duke.
Matthew wondered if he was ever going to admit that he was far more interested in Johanna’s cousin than in the debutantes who were vying for his attention.
Of course, it would be a difficult road, even for a duke, to push Society to accept an illegitimate wife.
On the other hand, Rose certainly had many connections that would assist in establishing her.
Christian tended to take the easy road, though.
Perhaps, despite his obvious attraction to Rose, he thought the path too difficult.
Scanning the crowd, Matthew felt a spot between his shoulder blades itch. He turned and looked up. Sebastian had been hiding on the balcony last time… tonight, apparently, it was Zachary’s turn.
His fingers brushed over his empty pocket.
It still happened once or twice a day.
Should he go speak with Zachary?
They had not talked since the day Zachary had stalked out of Clarence House. He’d been at the Manchester Ball with his fiancée, but he’d avoided all his friends while there and remained glued to Lady Annabelle’s side with a blank expression on his face.
Matthew wanted to know what Zachary was going to do. Therefore, he needed to go speak with Zachary. Sitting back and waiting to find out did not suit him.
Sighing, Matthew made his way up to the balcony.
Zachary was there, Monkey Sinclair perched on his shoulder.
His hand stroked over the monkey’s back, from the tiny creature’s head to the tip of his tail, as he stared down at the ballroom below them.
The monkey saw Matthew coming and chittered, drawing Zachary’s attention away from his observation.
He turned his head. Saw Matthew. Sighed. Returned to his study of the ballroom.
Matthew walked up to stand beside him, looking down at the pretty swirling patterns the dancers made on the floor.
Bright clumps of ladies’ dresses dotted the edges of the room, interspersed with the gentlemen’s more sober clothing.
Well, other than a few of the dandies, who were just as brightly and dramatically attired as some of the ladies.
They stood there in silence for a long moment.
“No Lady Annabelle this evening?” Matthew asked. He tried to track where Zachary was looking, assuming that he would see Delilah… but she was nowhere in sight. The canary-yellow gown she’d donned for the rout was very easy to spot.
Instead, it appeared that Zachary was focused on the group of ladies around Matthew’s mother-in-law.
Damn.
“She is coming from a supper party at the Hoods.” Zachary dropped his hand away from Monkey Sinclair, bracing both of them on the balcony just as Matthew was. “It was Johanna’s mother, wasn’t it?”
Though it was phrased as a question, it was a statement.
This time, Matthew did not reach for his coin, but he felt the impulse to. He did not know what to say. Zachary seemed sad, not angry, but that could turn on a dime. He’d seen it. Yet at the same time, he did want to mend the friendship. Zachary was hurting, perhaps the most out of all of them.
“My mother is not here tonight,” Zachary said quietly, still watching Johanna’s mother. “She is unwell.” There was something about the way he said it that made the word ‘unwell’ sound very weighty. As if he was trying to say something altogether different.
“She is sick?”
“She is unwell,” Zachary repeated. Sighed.
“Some days are better than others. Today was… very bad.” His voice was soft.
Low. The words even and without any emotion.
As though if he showed even the smallest hint of feeling, it would break him wide open.
“I am doing everything I can to keep my own mother alive. I have given up Delilah. I am marrying Lady Annabelle. I have sacrificed everything I wanted to hold on to the one parent I have left. I will not take anyone else’s mother from them.
You and Johanna, her mother, have nothing to fear from me. ”
Matthew’s chest ached in sympathy. He could not remember his mother.
Was it better that way, or would it be worse to know his mother and love her and have her in such a state that he had to upend his own life for the sake of her happiness?
Because she so greatly desired to follow his father into death that she might take matters into her own hands?
He could not imagine what Zachary was going through.
Reaching out his hand, he put it on Zachary’s back, just below where Monkey Sinclair sat on his shoulder.
The monkey cocked its head at Matthew and chittered again.
Maybe it was his imagination, but even its chitter sounded sad.
He wondered if perhaps naming the monkey after Sinclair—Zachary’s closest friend among the dukes whose unexpected and tragic death had spurred them to quicken their haste to find brides—had backfired on Zachary.
Being the duke meant that he had a daily reminder that his father was gone—had the monkey become a daily reminder of the other great loss in Zachary’s life?
“We are all doing the best we can,” he said softly. “If there is anything I can do for you…”
“Flip your coin to know if I have made the right decision or made a right mess?” Zachary managed the curve up one side of his mouth in the facsimile of a small smile. “Although I know you claim it does not work for others, it did predict Nathanial and Kalina.”
“I have lost it.”
“Lost it?” Zachary’s almost-smile dropped, and he studied Matthew for a long moment. There was sympathy in his dark eyes. “I am sorry to hear that.”
“Thank you.” Matthew looked out over the ballroom. “I seem to be managing well enough now. I make a choice. I live with the consequences. Just like the rest of you mere mortals.”
That actually managed to get a chuckle out of Zachary, which eased some of the tension in Matthew. He hated to see his friend so distressed.
“Yes, yes, we do.” Zachary sighed and waved his hand. “Go. Lady Annabelle will be here soon, and I need to gather myself before my fiancée arrives.”
He said ‘my fiancée’ the same way another man might say ‘my executioner.’
Matthew patted the back of his shoulder and turned away, but not before he saw Zachary’s gaze lock in on a splash of bright canary yellow that had just rejoined the others in the ballroom.
Johanna
The evening had been a roaring success, much to Johanna’s relief and her mother’s delight.
Being back in Society, reconnecting with her old acquaintances, had allowed Johanna to see a side of her mother that she was not sure she’d ever known.
While her memories were full of love from both her parents, that was different from seeing her mother in the social whirl.
It was good to see her smiling again, laughing again.
She leaned against Matthew’s shoulder on the way home, while her mother and Lady Stark compared notes from the evening, the carriage rocking her between Matthew and Rose.
Poor Rose, who was doing her best to set herself up as Johanna’s companion and firmly on the shelf, again, yet found herself being pursued by more than one gentleman.
Lord Boyd had even managed to coax her into a dance at one point before the Duke of Montagu had joined their circle, bringing with him a bevy of young ladies and forcing all the present gentlemen to divide their attentions.
It had been rather amusing to watch, although Rose was exasperated. She was probably even happier to be going home than Johanna was.
“We are here,” Matthew murmured.
Johanna lifted her head from his shoulder as the carriage rocked to a stop. She covered her yawn with her hand.
A few minutes later, Matthew was brushing his lips over hers as he left her at her bedroom door, his voice a low murmur. “Come to my room once your dress is off.”
Nodding, Johanna stifled another yawn as she let herself into her room.
Nettie was not there, but she was likely already on her way.
The soft flickering light made for deep shadows in the recesses of the room, and Johanna nearly screamed as a white specter unfurled from her window seat and glided toward her.
Her heart pounded madly in her chest as the instinct to flee gripped her before her mind caught up and realized what was happening.
That was no spirit, only her youngest sister.
“Charlotte! What are you doing up here? You are supposed to be in bed.” Johanna did her best to sound normal, but she could hear the breathiness in her voice from the fright her sister had given her.
Charlotte’s pale eyes seemed to glow from within as she glided up to Johanna in her stark white nightgown that went down to the floor.
The blonde braid resting against the fabric was only a shade or two darker than it.
Charlotte smiled dreamily and held out her hand, closed into a fist, like she was holding something that she wanted to give to Johanna.
Johanna reached for her sister’s hand, her palm and fingers cupped to receive it.
The cool weight hit her palm, and she closed her fingers around it to stop it from falling to the ground.
Without a word, her sister glided around her—she’d barely paused to drop the thing in Johanna’s hand—and went for the door. It opened just before she reached it, and Nettie shrieked loud enough to wake the house, jumping back and slapping her hand against her heart.
“Miss Charlotte!” She gasped out the words, shaking her head. “I wish you would not do that.”
“Sorry, Nettie.” Charlotte’s voice was floaty, just as eerie as the rest of her, as she glided forward. With how long her nightgown was, her feet were invisible, and it looked like she was floating off into the darkness of the hall. Nattie paused, looking torn.
“She does not have far to go; she will be fine,” Johanna reassured Nettie and shook her head. “We should worry more about those who might run into her at this hour and the fright they will take.”
“That is the God’s honest truth,” Nettie said, crossing herself and shaking her head. “That child is as sweet as can be, other than how much she enjoys scaring us out of our wits.”
“You get used to her eventually,” Johanna promised.
Though it was a difficult promise to make when Charlotte had just scared her out of her own wits as well.
She sighed. “It might be that our family got a little too used to her, and she is enjoying having fresh victims.” Smiling ruefully, Johanna turned so Nettie could undo the laces on the back of her dress.
“That girl.” Nettie sighed, but her tone of voice was fond if exasperated. Charlotte had that effect on people. So did Bridget, though for entirely different reasons.
As Nettie undid her laces, Johanna looked down at the item Charlotte had dropped into her hand.
It was a silver circle, the same size as a silver crown, but shiny and flat.
No, not entirely flat. After Nettie had helped Johanna out of her dress, she lifted it closer to her face, and she could see the extremely faint edges of what used to be on it.
It had been rubbed nearly flat, to the point where the images were indecipherable.
“What on earth…” she murmured, then paused as the strangest thought occurred to her.
But that made no sense.
How would Matthew even make use of such a thing? Which side was which was indefinable.
How would Charlotte have gotten it?
“Anything else, Your Grace?” Nettie asked.
Johanna realized with a start that her maid had finished the usual procedure of getting her to bed. She was more tired than she’d realized.
“No, thank you, Nettie. I will ring for you in the morning.”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
As Nettie left the room, Johanna flipped the silver circle over and over again, examining both sides closely. She could not tell the difference between the sides.
Is it possible…
The door between her and Matthew’s room opened, making her start as he came into the room, grinning. He was wearing his dressing gown, which gaped open at the chest as it had been tied too loosely, revealing that he was wearing nothing underneath it.
“You were taking too long,” he said with a wink, coming toward her.
“Charlotte was waiting for me,” she replied, holding out her hand with the circle of silver flat on her fingers. “She gave me this.”
It only took him a moment to glimpse the circle, then he let out a cry of joy as he rushed the last few steps to meet her, taking hold of her hand with one of his and picking up the silver from her palm.
“My coin!”
Johanna stared at him in disbelief.