Matthew tried his utmost to rearrange his face into a picture of boredom but failed completely. His brows remained furrowed, his lips pulled tight, and he was certain that the sorrow would not leave his eyes no matter what he attempted.
“What is it that makes your expression so?” Lord Monteforte asked, coming to stand beside Matthew as he looked out across the street from his drawing room window. “Or is it the thoughts in your mind that trouble you so?”
Matthew wanted to find some simple explanation, to tell Lord Monteforte that he was troubled by one of the current situations that the League was dealing with at present, but he was not the kind of man to lie, and so the words stuck in his throat. In the end, he simply cleared his throat gruffly and gave Lord Monteforte a small shrug.
“I see,” Lord Monteforte answered quietly, as a look of concern filled his features. “Then I am sorry indeed for whatever it is that you are struggling with, old boy.” He glanced behind him, as though reminding Matthew of the other gentlemen that were contained within, although some had already left. “You have friends here.”
“I know,” Matthew answered, speaking for the very first time since Lord Monteforte had come to join him at the window. “But some things will bring only more pain if they are spoken aloud.” He turned his head to stare back out of the window and, after a few moments, he felt Lord Monteforte’s presence disappear. Another troubled sigh left his lips, as wretchedness filled him. And all because of one Miss Williams.
It had been three days since he had seen her last. Three days since that torturous dinner party, where he had been forced to sit and smile and laugh and pretend that everything was just as he wanted it to be. Of course, he had felt nothing more than pain, aware of Miss Williams’ presence, feeling it fill the room as well as filling his heart. Quite how he had made it through the rest of the evening, Matthew had not been sure, but evidently he had managed it without giving anyone else present a hint of how he truly felt. It had not been until his return home in his carriage that he had finally allowed himself to behave in accordance with his emotions. He had sat back, his head against the squabs, as his expression contorted with agony, pain blossoming within him all over again, like a rose covered in thorns. And the pain had not left him since.
Yes, he had told her that there was nothing between them any longer, that there was not even an ounce of friendship shared, but that was not the true desire of his heart. He had wanted to take her hand, to hold it close and to pull her tight against him, to beg her to tell him what had occurred to push her so far from him and, in return, cry for her forgiveness for his own lack of determination in pursuing her in her absence.
But he had not. And he would not. It was quite apparent to him now that things were at an end. Miss Williams had returned to society to find herself a suitable match, and she had not even considered him. That spoke the truth of her heart to him, even if her lips did not.
It is time to set her aside.
The determination in his heart was there, but his heart and spirit rebelled against it. He did not want to set her aside; he did not want to turn away from her completely. It was as though he felt, despite everything, there might be a small sliver of hope for him yet, that she might turn around and beg for him to return to her, so that they might somehow find a way to continue what had once been started between them – but he knew that to be foolishness indeed. And yet, he could not rid himself of such a feeling.
A footman drew near, and Matthew, seeing him out of the corner of his eye, turned at once and forced himself back to the present, leaving aside his thoughts of Miss Williams.
“Yes?”
The footman inclined his head. “Lord Templeton wishes to speak to you, my lord.”
Matthew frowned. “Lord Templeton?” he repeated, a little confused given that he had thought the man had already gone from his house. “He is still here?”
The footman nodded. “Ensconced in the library, my lord. I apologize, I thought you were still aware of—”
“There is nothing for you to apologize for,” Matthew interrupted, with a tight smile. “Thank you. I will go at once.”
Frowning slightly, Matthew excused himself from the other gentlemen who remained, having just concluded the meeting of the League, and assured them that they were welcome to remain for as long as they wished, as well as to drink as much of his fine brandy as they wished. This was met with chuckles and murmurs of appreciation, making Matthew realize that what Lord Monteforte had said was quite correct. He did indeed have friends here.
Walking to the library, Matthew felt a sudden sense of nervousness fill him. It was very odd indeed for Lord Templeton to be ensconced somewhere within Matthew’s house and asking to meet with him privately, especially after Lord Templeton was, in fact, meant to be less than involved with the League now. Their meeting of the League had not been a lengthy one, and very little had been said about the case involving the death of Lord Harrogate. Very little had been achieved thus far. There was no news from America, and certainly nothing of note had been brought to light about them.
As for the other two gentlemen, the only thing that had become clear was that both Lord Stevenson and Lord Fitzherbert had returned to society. The suggestion was now that the gentlemen of the League ensure that both Lord Stevenson and Lord Fitzherbert were brought into closer acquaintance with some, so that they might then use that association to discover more if required. It would be a slow process, but Matthew was determined to discover the truth.
Of course, he would try to befriend both gentlemen also, but the thought of doing so when he had seen Miss Williams blush and smile in the direction of Lord Fitzherbert had quite stolen his eagerness away. It almost pained him to have to do so, fearing that Lord Fitzherbert might then start speaking of his acquaintance with Miss Williams and of his desire to court her, which Matthew would have to then deal with inwardly by showing no outward expression other than acknowledgement. It would be very difficult indeed, which was why he had not made any attempt to befriend Lord Fitzherbert as yet.
“Ah, thank you for coming, Lord Watt.”
Matthew allowed a small, wry smile to touch his lips as he looked across the room to see Lord Templeton sitting beside the hearth, where a small fire had been set in order to warm the room. It had been a fairly bright and sunny day, and with the afternoon only now fading to evening, Matthew did not think a fire was required – but evidently, Lord Templeton felt the need for it, and Matthew would not begrudge him that.
“I came at once,” he answered, as though he were in Lord Templeton’s home and had come in answer to a summons that had been sent by messenger. “It sounded quite urgent.”
Lord Templeton chuckled, his eyes dancing with mirth. “You think me rude sitting here and sending one of your own footmen to seek you out.” He shrugged, reaching for his glass of whiskey that was sitting on the table just to his right. “Mayhap you are right, but I did not think you would mind.”
“I do not,” Matthew said firmly, sitting down opposite. “You are always welcome to remain here.” He gave the older man a small smile, whilst a flurry of interest combined with anxiety settled in his stomach. “Is there something troubling you?”
Lord Templeton shook his head, before lifting his glass to his lips and throwing it back quickly. “No, indeed not,” he said, smacking his lips together. “Nothing wrong at all. It is only to inform you that I have sent another to seek out Lord Fitzherbert and Lord Stevenson. I thought you ought to know so that you might work alongside them.”
Matthew’s brows buried low on his forehead almost at once, his worry beginning to rise almost at once. “Another?” he said, trying to work out which of the gentlemen in the League it might be. “I do not understand.”
“They are quite green, of course,” Lord Templeton continued, waving
a hand as though speaking of someone’s lack of experience was quite understandable in the present circumstance. “They are quite determined to seek out the truth, but I think they will need a good deal of guidance as to how they are to go about finding the truth.”
“I-I do not understand,” Matthew interrupted, rubbing his forehead before dropping his hand to look steadily back at Lord Templeton. “You have sent someone inexperienced in the art of interrogation towards Lord Fitzherbert and Lord Stevenson in the hope that they will be able to do more than someone such as I am able to do?”