Chapter 18 #2
“Lord Westerfield has proved steadfast in his devotion to Mary; I imagine he would have waited had she told him that she was still not ready,” Peter added.
“And what is Claire’s reaction to all this?”
“She is taking it well; it is fortunate that she approves of Lord Westerfield as well,” Dahlia said.
“I can only imagine what it would feel like to be separated from your twin. But I hope her own suitors and social life are keeping her busy as well.” Matteo smiled.
“Yes, she had been very busy. Claire does not express it out loud of course, but she is hoping for a long engagement between Mary and Lord Westerfield.” Dahlia added.
A long engagement to better get to know your future spouse.
Matteo smiled, finding the memory still funny. He looked up to find Dahlia observing him.
“You have been very mysterious as of late, Matteo,” Dahlia said, looking at him as if he were a wayward young boy.
“Have I?”
“Oh, you know you have. You and Helena both, as a matter of fact.”
“Have we?”
Dahlia waved her hand impatiently at him.
“For all your evasiveness, one thing can be quite confirmed,” Peter said in a suddenly serious voice. “That you make no secret of it.”
Matteo bowed his head in agreement.
“Indeed, it is no secret.”
Matteo kept his gaze level, trying to project a calm that he suddenly did not feel. He was not comfortable evading the truth with his friends. A nervousness of sorts crept up in his chest. Were Helena’s concerns valid after all?
“What made you choose Helena?” Dahlia asked, drawing nearer to Matteo.
Ah, that one is easy enough to answer.
Matteo smiled and told Dahlia the truth.
“I was her seriousness, her sense of purpose, and the fact that I felt I could do her some good.”
“Oh?” Peter asked, a mocking smile on his lips.
“Yes,” Matteo explained. “She needs to have fun. She needs some lightness and laughter—and I flatter myself that I am just the man to provide them. When I saw her at Lady Chapman’s ball, I thought she was so tightly wound that she could break at any time.”
Dahlia seemed to be considering his answer. After a while, she shrugged.
“When did you propose to her?”
A slight frown formed in Matteo’s forehead but was gone before either Peter of Dahlia could notice. His mind raced until he finally decided to tell them a portion of the truth. He made a mental note to inform Helena of this to ensure consistency on their part.
“Actually, I asked to speak to her through a letter. I asked her to meet me.”
“You wrote to her? To an unmarried lady?” Dahlia gasped. “How improper, Matteo!”
“I have no excuse for it except that I was overcome with feeling. I had completed the letter before I knew what I was about.”
I have not really lied, so far.
Matteo tried to justify himself by repeating this.
“And then she met with you?” Dahlia prodded.
“Yes.”
“Oh,” Dahlia said thoughtfully. “Well then, she probably did have feelings for you to agree to a clandestine meeting. Helena is the most responsible person I know.”
Matteo’s heart beat fast at Dahlia’s words. Was it possible?
“When do you plan to marry?” Peter joined.
“Ah, that we have not yet decided,” Matteo said. “We are, shall we say, living in the moment for now.”
Peter and Dahlia looked at each other.
“I see,” Dahlia said, smiling. “Perhaps that is best.”
“What is? That we have not yet decided on a date?” Matteo asked carefully.
“Yes. In case one or both of you change your minds.” Dahlia said, smiling at him.
Matteo was unsure, but he thought he glimpsed empathy in Dahlia’s eyes. His gaze moved to Peter. In his friend’s eyes, he saw misgiving.
Perhaps they were called best friends for a reason, and his own best friend seemed to know—or had an inkling, at least—of what was happening with him and Helena.
Matteo was saved from a reaction when the study door opened and the butler, together with a footman, came in carrying the tea things.
Walking home, Matteo’s mind replayed his conversation with Peter and Dahlia. There was an unease in the pit of his stomach that he could not shake off. His friends knew. His instincts told him that.
“Ah, Duke. I should not be surprised,” he muttered.
If anyone could guess what he was about, it was Peter. And, Matteo realized, if anyone could guess what Helena was about, it would be Dahlia and Celine.
“Blast!”
But if there was one thing he knew as well, it was that Peter would not give away a secret. Not unless it were a literal matter of life or death.
Like he had done when Matteo got himself stuck in the chimney of one of the vacant bedrooms in their dormitory at Oxford.
They were in their second year and had planned to sneak out to the local tavern.
He had been torn between wanting to skin Peter alive for getting help, inadvertently telling on them and getting them in trouble with the masters, and pledging servitude to his friend for rescuing him from certain death by chimney.
The memory made Matteo smile despite his new problem. No, Peter would not give him away, of that he was sure.
Our plan will hold, but for how long, I cannot be certain.
He reached the street corner that led to his townhouse. Not wanting to head home yet, Matteo walked straight ahead.
His time with Helena seemed to be spinning away fast. They should start planning for the end of their engagement.
Matteo let out a long breath. He had gotten quite used to spending time with Helena. He liked spending time with her.
Oh, is that all?
Another long breath. In the solitude of his own company, Matteo admitted to himself that he was moved by her in ways that he had never experienced before.
So yes, he very much liked her company. That was a problem.
But it seemed that the worst part was that he wanted his time with Helena to last longer.
His logic told him that they must end it soon; his heart told him not to, not soon, not even at all.
He groaned inwardly; it maddened him to be in a quandary, in this quandary. How could two such contradicting feelings rage within him? How was a man supposed to choose? And yet, choose he must.