Chapter 22
It was too late for respectable men or women to be about, but Matthew was. Although he and Lord Fatherton were barely acquaintances, Matthew knew the precise club the man liked to frequent. There was no guarantee that Lord Fatherton would be present at the club, but Matthew hoped he would be. He clenched his jaw so tightly that his teeth ached.
He stormed into the club, drawing no attention to himself. All the gentlemen were in their cups and playing cards. Several were indulging in the allures of their mistresses. It was a den of rakehells, precisely the place where a snake like Lord Fatherton thrived. Matthew curled his hands into fists, searching the room for the detestable man.
His pulse quickened when he found him. Lord Fatherton lounged against the bar, laughing joyously and gesturing with a glass of some amber-coloured spirit at a cluster of young, smiling women. Matthew remembered Tabitha’s chastisement—her insistence that he not do anything foolish—but her warning seemed very far from his ears. He crossed the room, forcing himself to show the smallest amount of restraint.
Lord Fatherton turned his head towards Matthew, and their eyes locked. “Your Grace,” he said, his easy smile wavering. “I have never seen you at this club before.”
Matthew’s hands curled into fists, his nails digging into the palms of his hands. He heard the beat of his own heart reverberate inside his head.
“Shall we pour you a drink?” Lord Fatherton asked.
Lord Fatherton’s continued ease made Matthew’s blood boil all the more. He scarcely thought about what he did. It was as if his body moved of its own accord. He pulled back his fist and punched hard. Matthew’s knuckles collided with Lord Fatherton’s nose. The man stumbled backwards, striking the bar. He dropped his glass, which shattered on the floor. The women shouted. All the sounds seemed faint and distant above the roaring of Matthew’s blood in his ears.
He seized Lord Fatherton’s jacket and heaved the man forward. “What are you doing?” Lord Fatherton asked. “Your Grace!”
Gentlemen hastened to their feet, their voices all rising in an uneven cacophony of unsolicited advice and commentary.
“Do not fight in the club!”
“What is the matter?”
“Let them fight it out themselves!”
Lord Fatherton cupped one hand over his bleeding nose; with the other, he tried to free himself of Matthew’s grip. But Matthew refused to relinquish his grip on the man’s jacket. He pulled him into the street, and Lord Fatherton stumbled against the uneven cobblestones of the street.
Only then did Matthew release him. He pulled back his fist and punched the man again, striking his jaw. Pain burst through Matthew’s hand and all the way up to his shoulder. Lord Fatherton swung wildly, landing a glancing blow to Matthew’s arm. Matthew moved into a fighting stance, prepared to fight in earnest. “What do you want?” Matthew snapped.
“Want?” Cassius growled, blood dripping down his face. “What is wrong with you? Did I upset you by speaking to Tabitha? I suppose she did not tell you about our little dalliance before you were married. If we had not been caught, I would have had your wife’s maidenhood.”
Matthew’s face grew hot. He wanted to pummel the man more. Lord Fatherton was slumped against the wall, trying to stop the froth of blood that poured from his nose, but it dripped consistently between his fingers, heedless of his efforts.
“How dare you speak of her in such a disgraceful manner?” Matthew asked tightly. “Even if you might have had her, you lost your chance. She is my wife now, and you will stay away from her.”
Lord Fatherton laughed. He smiled mockingly, his teeth stained with blood. The man looked feral and wild, but Matthew strongly suspected that Lord Fatherton looked more threatening than he truly was.
“I could agree,” Lord Fatherton said, “but let us suppose that Tabby Cat does not wish to stay away from me.”
“You will stay away from her,” Matthew said. “I will not have you making her doubt the validity of our marriage with these disgraceful rumours about Rosemary.”
“Rumours? Oh, I speak only the truth!”
“Rosemary is dead.”
Lord Fatherton shook his head. “Oh, no,” he said. “Rosemary is very much alive. Did Tabitha not see fit to tell you that little part of our conversation?”
“She did,” Matthew said. “Explain.”
“All those years ago, Rosemary chose to leave you,” Lord Fatherton said. “You were not exciting or rich enough for her, so she left for a better man.”
“You, I suppose?” Matthew asked.
This was the most absurd story Matthew had ever heard in his life. Lord Fatherton could not possibly expect him to believe this farce.
“Oh, no,” Lord Fatherton said. “At first, I was enough for her. Our affair lasted for months, right under your nose. Sometimes, under your own roof.”
“Lies!” Matthew snarled. “Rosemary would never betray me like that. She would never debase herself with a snake like you!”
“You think you know her so well,” Lord Fatherton said. “Do you know why she left? Because she found a prince who could give her everything she wanted on the Continent. She was his mistress for years until he was passed over for the crown in favour of his younger brother.”
Matthew shook his head. “Ridiculous!” he snapped. “I cannot imagine what you hope to gain by spinning this fairy tale, but you will not get whatever you are hoping for from me.”
“You are a fool!” Lord Fatherton snapped. “Such a fool! You will see soon enough. Now that she has lost her chance at a crown, she intends to return to London for you. How sweet. I am sure she and your new wife will be fast friends.”
“You showed Tabitha my watch,” Matthew said.
Lord Fatherton withdrew it from his jacket. “This one?”
Matthew felt as if all his breath had left his body. That was his watch – he would recognize it anywhere. How did Lord Fatherton have it?
“Rosemary did not give that to you,” Matthew said, feeling dazed.
“If you will not believe the evidence when it is being held before your very eyes, you are even more hopeless than I thought,” Lord Fatherton said, shaking his head in mock dismay. “Poor man.”
Matthew could endure the lies no longer. His fist found Lord Fatherton’s jaw, and the man fell backwards. The man’s head struck the wall, and he collapsed to the ground. Matthew’s breath came in sharp gasps of air. He curled and uncurled his fingers, only just becoming aware of the blood and stinging pain that jolted through his torn knuckles. Matthew bent down and took the watch from Lord Fatherton’s limp hand.
Matthew squinted against the darkness, peering closely at the lord. Although Lord Fatherton had struck his head and fallen, there was no blood from the head wound. The blood from his nose was substantial, but Matthew strongly suspected that the wound appeared worse than it was. Lord Fatherton was unconscious. When he woke, he would be in a great deal of pain, but he would survive.
With a scowl, Matthew stowed the watch into his coat pocket and stormed away. Lord Fatherton was a liar. He had to be. This was all some cruel scheme.
Matthew entered the club, drawing several whispers and stares.
“Is ... is he hurt?” a young man asked.
“He will live,” Matthew replied. “He is fortunate that I only punched him. He dishonoured my wife.”
Wives, but that was a strange thought.
“That is the Duke of Hillsburgh,” another gentleman whispered. “Leave him be.”
Although he was not a member of the club, Matthew settled by the bar. A glass of Scotch was promptly offered, and Matthew finished it in a single swallow. The burn of the alcohol against his throat was steadying in a way. He beckoned for another and then turned his attention to the watch. It was miraculously unharmed despite having fallen with Lord Fatherton. He turned it over, tracing his thumb over his familiar initials.
Lord Fatherton’s story made no sense. It could not possibly be true, yet Matthew could think of no other reason for Lord Fatherton to possess that watch. Matthew ran his hands through his hair, grimacing when he caught sight of the blood on his hands. He had not punched another man in anger since he was much younger, but Lord Fatherton had the gall to insult both Tabitha and Rosemary.
A throat cleared, and Matthew snapped his head to the man whom he assumed to be the purveyor of the club. “I must ask you to leave, Your Grace. I cannot have fighting in here. It disturbs the joyous atmosphere.”
Matthew smiled thinly and shoved the watch into his coat. “Of course,” he said smoothly. “You merely allow your members to behave like scoundrels and rakes. I sought to defend my wife’s honour, as any man would.”
“Nevertheless, I must request that you leave.”
Matthew stood and threw a handful of coins onto the bar as compensation for the spirits. “Fine,” he said tartly.
Matthew walked away from the bar and crossed the floor. The ton would doubtlessly be gossiping about him; they probably already were. Matthew sighed. He somewhat regretted having left his isolated existence. As he left the club, he consciously did not look to see if Lord Fatherton was still sprawled unconscious on the street. The scoundrel deserved whatever fate he might find. Instead, Matthew shoved his hands into his coat, one hand curling around his watch, and resolutely walked towards his townhouse.
He wondered if Tabitha would be there or if this most recent fight might have pushed her to leave and seek refuge with her doting mother and father. Matthew ran both his hands through his hair. The exhilaration from the fight with Lord Fatherton had begun to fade, and Matthew was suddenly so tired.
His entire evening felt as though it were a strange and terrible dream. Lord Fatherton’s story could not possibly be true. Rosemary would never betray him in such a cruel and selfish way. She would never abandon him like that, much less take their daughter and seek someone else’s affections.
“Ridiculous,” he muttered.
But his mind kept returning to the watch, desperately searching for some plausible way that it might have come to be in Lord Fatherton’s possession. The watch had been missing for about twelve years; he had noticed its absence shortly before Rosemary’s disappearance, and Matthew had assumed that he had merely misplaced it.
When the watch failed to reappear, he suspected that one of the servants must have stolen it, but even after his townhouse was thoroughly searched, the watch had not reappeared. At last, he had been forced to conclude that he had either lost it while out in town or else that an especially brazen thief had stolen it.
But no, he could not believe that Rosemary had an affair with Lord Fatherton, much less that she had given him that watch. Surely, the likelier explanation was that the watch had been stolen, and the thief had pawned it for a small amount of money. Lord Fatherton must have found it by chance and, rather than return it to its rightful owner, had chosen to involve it in some pointless and mean-spirited scheme to spite Tabitha or Matthew. Perhaps he was angry at them both.
Matthew took a shuddering breath. That was surely what had happened. Rosemary could not possibly be alive after all this time; she could not have left him in such a callous way. Matthew would not believe it.