Hopkins bowed. “Should anything not be to your satisfaction, madam, please bring it to my attention at once,” he said with eloquence. Based on his appearance, she expected his tone to be that of a man from Whitechapel. “The guests have just arrived and await you in the drawing room.”
“Thank you, Hopkins.”
"Some people say the bumps and scars on a man's face speak of his pugilistic abilities," Matthew said as they moved along the line.
Priscilla glanced at him and smiled. “Then I assume Hopkins has his uses.”
“Indeed.” He paused while the procession of servants bowed and curtsied before returning to their duties. “You will never have cause to fear for your safety with Hopkins around.”
“My safety? Are your parties always so … so wild and boisterous?” Priscilla dismissed the ice-cold chill flowing through her veins. A home should be a place of sanctuary, not a place where one locks themselves away in a bedchamber expecting an attack.
“Not always, but men often argue over a mistress. The men who come here have no conscience. The dissolute care nothing for moral restraint.”
Was life to be endless rounds of bawdy parties, her home abused by drunken louts? Surely there was a better way to supplement one’s income?
They stopped outside the drawing room door. “Is that why I am banished to the bedchamber when you’re entertaining?”
“It is my duty to protect you, Priscilla.”
The comment should have reassured her, but his tone lacked the warmth necessary to suggest he cared. “And I suppose it is my duty to please you.”
He smiled. “Did you not swear to obey my every command?”
Priscilla placed her hand in the crook of his arm. “Like you, my views are different when it comes to interpreting my vows.”
Due to the scandalous rumours circulating regarding their need to marry, Matthew had suggested they invite only close friends and family to the house. He refused to give the gossips an opportunity to gloat. Looking at the small gathering — numbering five in total — one would assume Priscilla and Matthew were orphans. Priscilla’s guests included her aunt, uncle and Miss Hamilton. Matthew invited Lord Morford, his wife of three days, Isabella, and his uncle, Mr Herbert Chandler.
“My nephew is a constant surprise.” Uncle Herbert nudged Matthew. Herbert possessed such an open and friendly countenance she couldn’t help but like him instantly. “Matthew insisted he would never marry and all the time he has been hiding you away.”
Priscilla touched the man affectionately on the arm. “I’m sure Matthew meant to tell you of our betrothal sooner, but things progressed rather quickly.”
It was the first time her husband’s given name had fallen from her lips. How strange that something so simple could create a sense of intimacy.
“Love strikes the heart when one least expects it.” Uncle Herbert chuckled. He was incredibly handsome for a man of middling years. “I am relieved to find my nephew is just as susceptible. I feared he would spend a lifetime alone.” He grabbed Matthew’s shoulder firmly. “Your father would be proud. I assume your mother was too ill to travel but what of your siblings?”
At the mere mention of family, a dark cloud descended to dull her husband’s handsome features. “Beatrice is nursing my mother and Simon is too busy with estate business to leave Yorkshire.”
In truth, Matthew had not given the family a choice and had only written three days ago to inform them of his impending nuptials. In the letter, he’d mentioned his mother’s ill health as a way of justifying his actions, though Priscilla suspected there was more to it than that.
“I doubt Simon will believe it.” Uncle Herbert laughed. “No doubt he will think it a prank to annoy him. Perhaps when you sire heirs, it will force your brother to marry.”
Matthew smiled, but his eyes were like cold mossy pools of nothingness. “Then I can only pray he finds a bride quickly. I have no intention of ever living at Moorlands.”
“You may change your mind when you have a son.” Herbert raised a mischievous brow.
“I doubt it,” Matthew snapped.
A look of pity flashed across his uncle’s face. “This is a time of new beginnings. Things will be different now. You’ll see.” He patted Matthew on the arm, took Priscilla’s hand and pressed a light kiss to her knuckles. “I shall leave you to mingle with your guests. Lord Morford has been hopping about like a hare in his desperation to speak to you.”
Priscilla met Tristan’s nervous gaze. No doubt guilt formed the basis of his anguished expression. “He seems eager for our attention.”
“Tristan recently married in a private ceremony, and we’ve not congratulated the couple.” Matthew patted his uncle on the back. “We’ll come and find you shortly.”
“You must come to dinner,” Priscilla said, much to Uncle Herbert’s surprise.
“Dinner?” A smile touched the man’s lips, and he cast Matthew a dubious glance. “Are you sure it would not be an imposition? My nephew usually insists on meeting me at my club.”
Matthew swallowed deeply. “I can make an exception,” he said, and she could not tell if he was pleased or annoyed.