Carla Kelly (16 page)

“
Oh,
no, please, Matthew. I’m not up to dinner yet. I’m afraid even the
smell of food would make me long for that pan again.”

“
Very
well, then, I’ll be back in a little while.” He stopped, and she
could see the indecision on his face. “Omega, I know you’re in
pain, and I know you’re tired, but I simply must talk to you before
I lose whatever nerve remains. Please.”

She nodded, her
eyes on his face.
And soon you’ll know, Omega Chartley
, she
thought as she watched him, her eyes touring for a brief moment the
face she knew so well, and, before yesterday, had thought never to
see again. The swelling on his nose was going down; his eye was
black and blue, but he was Matthew Bering. She realized with a
wrench that nothing had changed: she loved him as much as she had
ever loved him, even as he exasperated and unnerved her.

He tried to
smile, but it went nowhere. “Well, Omega, now that you have
memorized my face, I’ll go ... and return before you chance to
forget what I look like.”

She closed her
eyes when he left. That short interview with Jamie had exhausted
her. How wearing pain is, she thought. I will only rest my eyes
this minute before Matthew returns. The pain is so great I surely
will not sleep.

Omega woke hours
later. The house was still, her room dark, except for the light
that glowed from the fireplace, and the lamp dimly flickering
beside the bed. She thought for a moment she was alone in the room,
but she heard Matthew’s steady breathing. As her eyes became used
to the gloom, she saw him in the chair by the window, the draperies
pulled open and his feet propped on the sill. The rain had begun
again and the room was chill.

She regarded him
from her bed, bemused all over again how little, really, he had
changed in eight years.
How is it possible for him to be
handsomer?
she asked herself.
I only wish that I had fared
as well
.

And then his
breathing changed, and she knew he was awake.

“
Matthew?”

“
Yes.”
He yawned and put his feet on the floor. “Don’t breathe a word of
this to Angela or Jamie, but I swear I am too old for adventuring.”
He laughed softly. “My chief delight in the world is to sit in a
dressing gown by my fire with the London
Times.
That is slow
work indeed to you mettlesome folk who seem to have attached
yourselves to my household like barnacles.”

He was silent
another minute, and then he turned the chair around to face her.
“But this is idle chat, my dear.” He spread his hands out in front
of him. “Where am I to begin, Omega?”

“
You
can prop me up and put another pillow behind my head.”

He did as she
said, plumping the pillow behind her head and adding another one.
“Now where do we go?”

Omega closed her
eyes. It was easier somehow not to look at him. “First you must
tell me how it is that you are Viscount Byford. I never knew there
was a title due to you.”

“
I
seldom thought about it, and it was almost a surprise to me,
Omega,” he said, pulling his chair closer. “My mother had a cousin,
Rufus Laws, who was the Viscount Byford. He died without issue, and
indeed, without anyone really to mourn him. You may have heard the
servants mention him. No young girl was safe here during his
tenure.” He laughed dryly. “Things have changed with a vengeance,”
he added in almost an undervoice. “Well, I succeeded to his title
and land. This was ... five years? ... six years ago, almost.” His
voice was lighter as he continued, and she could sense the
affection in it, even as his words were deprecating. “Believe me,
it is no great honor. I find myself justice of the peace and called
upon to settle the pettiest of differences and to participate in
hurried-up weddings. It is a curious fact, Omega, my dear, but when
you have a title and money, people seem to think you know
everything. I do not understand the correlation. I am called upon
to be wise, impartial, and above reproach, rather like the
Archbishop of Canterbury.” He sighed. “And now?”

She opened her
eyes. “What I want to know is probably a very small thing to you. I
suppose it doesn’t really matter, after eight years, and maybe it
is just my female vanity. Please don’t think me foolish ... but I
must know: did you ... did you feel some ... some great disgust for
me all of a sudden?” Her voice faltered. “If you did ... if you do
... just say so, and I’ll not plague you further.”

Her words sounded
silly to her own ears, and stilted, and altogether nonsensical,
rather like the whining of a child. A look of great sorrow came
into Matthew’s eyes, and she almost wished she hadn’t said
anything. She could have gone to her grave gladly without seeing
that look of pain cross his face.

He reached for
her hand. “Omega, I loved you almost from the first moment I saw
you.” The look of anguish left for a moment, and he seemed almost
young again. “I would wager you don’t even remember when that was,
do you?”

She shook her
head. He took her hand and rested it on his knee. “I remember so
well. You and Alpha were at the Kensington Hall Gallery, both of
you poring over a guidebook and looking genuinely
interested.”

“
But
we ... we
were
interested!” she protested, and took her hand
from his knee.

“
Exactly so. You two and no one else. Didn’t anyone ever tell
you two country children that one goes to the gallery only to see
and be seen? And there you were, both of you enjoying yourselves so
immensely. I was struck by your ... your integrity, I suppose, for
want of a better word. I think that if one of us Bond Street Beaux
had strolled over and said that such enthusiasm was not at all the
thing, it wouldn’t have mattered a straw to you. You were there for
the paintings.” He touched her hand again. “You had on a dress of
the palest pink muslin and carried the most useless-looking
parasol. And your hair was everywhere at the same time.” He
laughed, and again the years melted away. “I wanted to sneak up and
tweak one of your marvelous curls, just to see if it was real. You
probably would have slapped me.”

“
I
would have.”

“
I
found out who you were, and discovered immediately that you had far
too few years in your dish for me. But somehow, I couldn’t stay
away from you.”

She remembered.
Scarcely a day had passed without a little note, a handful of
violets, or a funny drawing from Matthew Bering. She remembered his
visits to Alpha, when they discussed Oxford and laughed over dons
who were ancient when Matthew was there, and were still lecturing
on. Almost before Omega had realized what was happening, she was in
love with him. Not all the long walks in the garden, or quiet
afternoons sitting in contemplation in one gallery or another had
sufficiently convinced her that at eighteen she was too young for
this man who had been on the town for years. He had never seemed
too old for her then. He did not seem too old now.

“
I
told myself over and over it was foolish beyond reason to be struck
dumb by a chit barely out of the schoolroom.” He shook his head,
the wonder still in his voice. “I don’t understand how such things
happen, but I felt comfortable around you, at peace, completely
free to be myself. You had not an ounce of pretense in your whole
body. I’ve never met anyone so utterly without guile. Or a woman so
intelligent. You were the kind of person so utterly suited for me
... and for children.”

“
Then
why, in heaven’s name, did all this happen?” She couldn’t look at
him, even in the dark, and turned her head away. “If I know, then I
won’t trouble you further.”

It was the
question she had asked almost daily for eight years, even when she
wasn’t consciously dwelling on the matter, as she had not in recent
years. During the oddest moments—when she was grading papers, or
listening to her pupils recite—her mind would take a leap back to
that morning’s work in the church, and then move forward again,
almost as if memory had parted for an instant and let her glimpse
inside.

“
There
are two reasons,” Matthew said slowly, “two reasons that have given
me cause to regret every day of my life since then.” He rose
suddenly and went to the window, opening it a crack and letting in
the cooler breezes. “One is terrible and the other no better. I
shall begin with the terrible one first.”

He wouldn’t look
at her. “I was the guest of honor at a bachelor party that night
before our ... that night. Do you remember?”

She did. They had
dined together, her father and Alpha, with Matthew, making
last-minute plans, laughing about one thing and another. “You left
early. It must have been before ten.” She regarded him
thoughtfully, pulling the memories up from eight years. “I seem to
recall that Alpha was to accompany you, but he begged
off.”

“
Thank
God that he did,” said Matthew fervently. “It was the worst night
of my life.” He laughed, and there was no mirth. “Or perhaps just
the first night of eight years of worst nights.”

He took a deep
breath and plunged in. “My brother-in-law’s brother had arranged a
party. That was Rotherford.”

“
Rotherford? You mean the one who is hounding
Jamie?”

“
The
very one. Edwin Clevenden, Lord Rotherford. You never met him. He
was older than I by a few years, and scarcely ever in from the
country. Indeed, I was surprised and a little flattered that he
would plan this party. I did not know him well. Jamie’s father was
there—at least he was for a little while. I do not perfectly
remember. There were three others of my closest friends
there.”

“
Where
was this party?”

“
Oh, I
do not know. Rotherford had rented rooms near St. James Square. I
probably could find them again if I looked hard enough, but I never
had the heart to do so.” Matthew was silent then. He left the
window and paced in front of the fireplace, hunkering down for a
moment to stir at the coals. Omega said nothing, only watched
him.

He paced again,
and then stood still. “This is devilish hard, Omega. I’ve never
discussed this with anyone, and most assuredly not with a woman.
You will think so ill of me.” He laughed his mirthless laugh again.
“Well, what am I saying? I’m not precisely in your best books, am
I?”

“
Oh,
Matthew, don’t.”

He took another
deep breath. “I was the main attraction at the party, and destined
to become the entertainment. We drank ourselves practically into a
state of catatonia, and then Rotherford fetched in the
pièce de
résistance.
Oh, God.”

It was as if he
were seeing the whole event again. He sank down into the chair as
if his legs would not hold him. “She couldn’t have been more than
fourteen. Just a prostitute from Covent Garden. Someone scarcely
older than Angela.”

He looked at her.
“I am glad it is dark, Omega. It was always so easy to tell
precisely what you were thinking, only by looking at your
face.”

She held out her
hand to him. “Pull your chair closer, Matthew,” she said. When he
did not move, or reach for her hand, she folded her hands in her
lap again.

“
Rotherford invited me to remove my clothes and partake of some
Covent Garden honey. I was so foxed I don’t know how I got my
clothes off, but there I was, ready to take on that poor little
whore, surrounded by my best friends, everyone cheering me
on.”

Omega took a deep
breath. There was a sour taste in her mouth, a churning of her
stomach again. She gritted her teeth against it.

“
So
while you were sleeping the sleep of the innocent, and perhaps
dreaming about your loving husband-to-be, I was trying to lay a
London drab.”

“
Matthew,” she began, but couldn’t speak.

“
We’re
not a very good lot, Omega, we
bon ton
.” Matthew got to his
feet again and crossed the room. “But remember, dear, I haven’t
gotten to the terrible part yet. And there is worse beyond that.
I’m not a performing bear, Omega. I vaguely remember everyone
cheering and clapping and encouraging me, but I was totally unable
to satisfy either that whore or my friends. It was mortifying, all
the more so because I really didn’t want to be there.”

“
What
... happened then?”

“
She
laughed at me and I struck her so hard I bloodied her mouth. Then I
remember someone putting me to bed. When it was—earlier? later?—I’m
unsure. I heard her screaming and crying, pleading with someone,
and then I didn’t remember anything else until morning.”

Matthew shuddered
and the chill seemed to pass into Omega’s body too. He went to the
window and flung it open wide, leaning out, breathing in the cold
and the rain. He remained that way, elbows on the sill, until Omega
wanted to cry. She made no sound, only wished she was able to cross
the room to him. What he was telling her was abhorrent and evil,
and alien to every code of conduct she knew, but Omega Chartley
knew what it was to hurt, and to see Matthew hurting was the worst
thing of all.

He turned around
and sat on the window ledge, distancing himself from her. “When I
woke in the morning, I was not alone in bed. Oh, God, that girl lay
beside me, and she was dead.”