18. One Cold Night, One Decision
Chapter Eighteen
One Cold Night, One Decision
Meanwhile…
Stepping up into the coach after Catherine, Matthew noted how she didn’t sit in the middle of the bench facing the direction of travel, but rather off to one side. “May I join you?” he asked, wincing when he noticed a white cloud form in front of his face. The coach’s interior was freezing.
“Please do. I would appreciate the warmth,” she said, patting the bench next to her.
Matthew settled into the squabs, careful to leave an inch or two between them.
About to place his hands on his thighs, he noted how Catherine rubbed her gloved hands together.
“Apologies for the cold. I should have had Cummings move the brazier in here,” he said, wondering how much it would cost to buy the coal necessary to keep the coach heated.
“It’s all right. I should have worn warmer gloves.” She pulled her hands inside her mantle. “I wasn’t expecting it to be so cold tonight.”
“Me, neither,” he commented. He took a breath. “Thank you for coming with me this evening,” he added.
“Thank you for treating me to an ice,” she replied.
“It was my pleasure.” He angled his body in her direction, which had his knee bumping against hers. “Pardon.”
“Oh, you’re excused.”
“I just realized I’ve spent this entire evening talking to you under the assumption we are to be married,” he said, “when I haven’t even proposed.”
Catherine dipped her head. “I did wonder about that.”
“I should like to do it properly,” he said. “With a betrothal ring. May I ask if you have a favorite gemstone?”
He heard her slight inhalation of breath. “Mrs. Dove-Lyon left me with the impression you were… without funds,” she stammered. “How—?
“In the general sense, I am,” he admitted. “However, I benefit from having had a mother who hid money from my father whilst she was still alive.”
“She hid money?” Catherine made a slight scoffing sound. “For what purpose?”
“Well, I’d like to believe she did it for me, but I do think she was well aware there might come a time when funds would be tight, and she would require money to give to the cook and to the butler for the household expenses,” he explained.
“She was well aware of my father’s tendency to gamble to excess.
” He couldn’t help but emit a sigh of frustration.
“Where did she hide it?”
Matthew chuckled. “Everywhere,” he replied.
“The bottom of vases, the back of drawers, the inside of books.” He allowed a scoff.
“Which is how I had enough blunt to pay my servants this month and for this evening’s outing, bless her heart.
I expect if I open a few more books in my library, I will find what I need to acquire a bauble for you. ”
Catherine tittered softly. “It sounds as if she was saving for her future,” she remarked.
“In a manner of speaking, she was,” he agreed. “She died before my father did, though, but only by a few weeks.”
“Oh, dear. He must have been bereft without her.”
Matthew considered the comment a moment before he agreed. “I did not see him for a fortnight, and then, when I did, I hardly recognized him. He looked as if he had aged an entire decade in two weeks.” He glanced in her direction. “Needless to say, I was not surprised he died when he did.”
“Was theirs a marriage of convenience?”
Blinking, Matthew shook his head. “I’ve no idea,” he said. “If it was, they obviously grew to care for one another before I went off to school.”
“Off to school?” she repeated.
He nodded. “Eton,” he stated, hiding his wince when he remembered only affluent families sent their boys to the boarding school to fill the paid Oppidan slots.
There were King’s Scholars, too—poor students—but everyone who attended had to follow the strict rules and have an aptitude for the Classics.
“I suppose you attended university as well?” she guessed.
“Cambridge,” he acknowledged. “But I didn’t…” He clamped his mouth shut, sure if he said what he was about to, she would guess he was an aristocrat.
“Graduate?” she guessed.
He dipped his head. “Oh, I graduated, but I had hoped to go on a Grand Tour. See the world. Eat the food of the gods. Drink too much wine,” he said wistfully. “Alas, it was not to be.”
“So you read books about it instead,” she said, not making it a question.
“How did you know?” he asked rhetorically. He allowed a sigh before he added, “You never did tell me your favorite gemstone.”
Catherine glanced out the window, the light from the coach lantern bathing her face in a golden glow.
“My best friend says to accept anything less than a sapphire is settling,” she replied.
“I think because she doesn’t know about the value of rubies.
” She paused. “I do prefer sapphires, though. There is something rather elegant about that shade of blue.”
Matthew sighed. “A sapphire would look stunning with your hair,” he murmured. “Or an emerald.”
He heard her soft inhalation of breath and wished the coach would stop long enough for him to kiss her. When it stuttered to a halt, he glanced out the window to discover they had arrived at Wingfield House.
“This is your townhouse?” Catherine asked, her gaze on the tony building located near Park Lane and the Stanhope Gate to Hyde Park.
“Yours, too, if we marry,” he replied, wincing when he realized he was attempting to bribe her into marrying him. He might not have money, but he did have accommodations, and at the moment, he wasn’t adverse to dangling them as an incentive.
As they waited for the driver to open the door, the unmistakable sounds of horses’ hooves and another town coach passed by. Matthew wouldn’t have paid it any mind but for the brief flash of gold from the coat of arms painted on its door.
He was about to say it was good to see he wasn’t the only aristocrat in town when he remembered he couldn’t—not without giving away his true identity.