“Regardless of the circumstances, you’re not to leave your post,” Matthew reiterated.
John bowed. “I understand, sir.”
“I’ll be perfectly fine.” Priscilla touched his arm. “Now hurry. You have two hours to get rid of this rabble.”
Matthew took her hand, brought it to his lips and pressed a kiss on her knuckles. “You were amazing tonight.”
Witnessing her radiant smile was the most satisfying part of the whole evening.
“We were amazing,” she said. Brushing one final kiss across his lips, she climbed the stairs to her bedchamber.
God, he was a jumbled bag of emotions. His heart hammered against his ribs. Did it stem from his eagerness to join her or the sudden fear of losing the only damn thing that mattered? The fluttering in his stomach was an entirely new sensation.
If John thought it odd that Matthew was still gaping at the stairs long after he’d heard Priscilla close her door, he gave no indication.
“I’ll not move until the last guest has left, sir,” John said. There was a brief pause. “Is everything all right, sir?”
“Yes, John. Everything is fine.” Matthew sighed and dragged his hand down his face. “Life can be surprising. It can take but one event to send you spiralling on a different course.”
A deep frown lined John’s brow.
“It’s like getting on the wrong mail coach at an inn,” Matthew continued, trying to help the footman understand. “Your first instinct is to panic. You feel lost, helpless. But then at some point on the journey, you realise it was the right one all along.”
“Yes, sir,” John said, but probably hadn’t got the first clue what Matthew was rambling on about.
Leaving John to concentrate on his duties, Matthew returned to the ballroom. He would begin his mission to empty the house by dropping a few discreet hints in Lord Parson’s ear. But the blasted man had disappeared.
Chigwell, Mullworth and Mrs Wilson were conversing near the terrace, and so he thought to try there.
“Lord, watching you wipe the grin off Boden’s face was the highlight of the evening.” Chigwell slapped Matthew on the back. “Parker-Brown scurried off into the night, his chin dragging the floor.”
“I imagine he has rushed home to assess his accounts,” Mrs Wilson remarked with a cackle.
“You must be in the mood for celebrating,” Chigwell said. “Let’s play a drinking game.”
Bloody hell. If they consumed any more brandy, they were liable to make a mess of the floor. “With a little over an hour left until I must bid you all goodnight, I think your time would be better served mingling.”
That was a polite way of saying ‘find someone to fuck and then begone’. As the vulgar remark formed in his mind, a wave of disgust swept over him. He was tired of playing parent to the weak and perverted.
“An hour?” Mullworth moaned. “That doesn’t give a man much time.” With an open mouth, he scoured the crowd. “Damn. There’s no one here who takes my fancy.”
Mrs Wilson nudged the slack-jawed devil. “Oh, there must be someone you’ve had your eye on. Someone who gets the old blood boiling. And don’t look at me. I choose my men as I do my meat.”
Chigwell chuckled. “What, you mean thick with a juicy covering of fat?”
“No, you fool.” Mrs Wilson hit Chigwell’s forearm with her folded fan. “I mean young, lean and tender.”
Matthew feigned amusement. “As the average age of the gentlemen in here must be forty, I’d say you’re out of luck.”
“I’d say we are all out of luck.” Mullworth’s eyes widened as he spotted someone amongst the sea of heads. “Then again, it seems Chandler here might be the only one guaranteed a jolly time this evening.”
Matthew followed Mullworth’s gaze to the woman approaching. Like a snake slithering through the grass, Lucinda Pearce weaved through the crowd. She joined them, her forked tongue flicking over her lips as she scanned Matthew from head to toe.
“You know Chandler is closing the doors early tonight,” Mullworth grumbled for the umpteenth time.
“Early? But he can’t.” Lucinda trailed her fingers over the neckline of her bodice. “The night has barely begun. Is a win at the tables not cause for celebration?”
It was. But he intended to commemorate the moment in private.