&nbs
p; Matthew walked toward her and caught her shoulders in a loose grip. “I was there, too.”
“Then you should have noticed where my attention landed that day.” Tears streaked her cheeks.
Confused, he took a long breath and released it slowly. “I have no idea what you mean. What were you looking at?”
She stared up at him, her eyes as wet and blue as the ocean. “You! I was looking at you. Not John my betrothed, not the wet grass, or the field. You!”
Matthew watched as she raced from the room, tears still streaking down her cheeks. He was unable to process what she’d said, and his feet refused to move and follow her.
Had his words caused her wayward gaze? She had been looking at him. What did she mean by that? Had he made some movement that caught her eye? Had he coughed or cleared his throat?
Thinking back, he couldn’t remember doing anything but watching them both. And feeling a stab of envy for the love they had for each other.
Or had they?
She couldn’t have meant that she’d glanced back at him because she fancied him. That thought made no sense. She and John had loved each other. The six-month betrothal that Jennette had insisted on wasn’t that out of the ordinary. John had told him she needed the time to make the plans for the wedding of the Season.
He slowly sipped his brandy in thought.
Had she given John that reason as an excuse?
She might have delayed the wedding because of her insecurities about him. Perhaps she’d sensed what Matthew knew, that John had been unfaithful to her. The only reason Matthew had told her about his attraction was due to John’s disregard for her. She deserved better than an unfaithful husband.
Unless she was unsure of her own feelings toward John.
She’d only been twenty at the time. While not terribly young for marriage, she might not have been as ready as she thought.
She was looking at you, his mind reminded him.
He shook his head. Jennette did not have feelings for him five years ago. The kiss he initiated broke off because she had pushed him away. He wasn’t even certain she had feelings for him now, other than lustful ones. This situation seemed to be worsening. He had the perfect opportunity to propose to her tonight. Instead, she raced from the room in tears.
The door opened and banged against the wall. Selby stood in the threshold with a murderous rage in his eyes. “Is she gone?”
“Yes.”
“Good. We shall have that talk now.”
Right. The reason he, Selby, and Somerton were coming here in the first place. Selby wanted more information on what had happened with Jennette at the dowager’s house.
“Have a seat. Have some brandy,” Matthew said, pointing to the decanter in the corner.
Selby shut the door and then walked to the brandy. Holding it up, he said, “Looks like you’ve already had your share.”
“Your sister helped.” Damn, he shouldn’t have said that.
Selby shook his head. “Of course she did.”
“So you want to know what happened at the dowager’s house,” Matthew said before draining his snifter.
“No.”
“Then why did you insist Somerton and I meet with you here?”
“Oh, I wanted to know that then.” Selby gently placed his snifter on the table, in contrast to the anger etched upon his face. “Now, I want to know what happened in here.”
“You were here, Selby.”