Page 44 of A Duchess Untouched

How can I face him again? What would he think of me after this display?

Sleep eluded Selina that night, and when the clock struck midnight, she finally gave up and headed to the kitchens. She had promised to deliver the widows’ provisions before the week was out, and what better way to spend a sleepless night than keeping that promise?

As soon as she entered the kitchens, she set about taking out some baskets. The provisions she had asked the staff to prepare were arranged in a neat line at the corner of the counter. She began filling each basket with one of every item, taking care not to mix anything up or put more in one basket.

Mrs. Pike will have my head if Mrs. Hartley gets more than she does.

Selina smiled at the thought, and a wave of tranquility washed over her. She nearly jumped when something intruded on her hard-earned peace.

“You are going to give the staff an apoplexy if they see you here.”

Selina gasped, nearly dropping a jar of preserves. She spun toward the deep voice, her heart hammering. Matthew stood near a low archway in the kitchen. His face was lit by moonlight streaming through a tall window and by the flickering flame of a sconce.

He wore only a white shirt over his breeches. His boots were deceptively quiet, helping him lurk in the semi-darkness without her hearing him right away. His dark hair was mussed, as if he had already dozed off and changed his mind. After all, it was already past midnight.

“I… I could not sleep,” Selina said honestly, her voice sounding too small. She placed the jar she had just filled in a woven wicker basket.

Matthew approached her slowly, as if trying not to scare a deer. That was how she felt these days. She felt ready to flee at the slightest hint of his proximity. Tonight, he did not give her a chance. His eyes scanned the clutter in the kitchen. He looked as if he did not know what he was looking at.

Spread before Selina were twenty wicker baskets, parcels of freshly baked bread, jars of preserves, tins of honeyed and buttered biscuits, blocks of beeswax soap, tea leaves, and more supplies. She also cut twenty strips of ribbon and other materials she could use to decorate each basket after she had put together the provisions for the widows.

Matthew shook his head incredulously, the corner of his mouth twitching with barely concealed amusement. Selina could not tell whether he was reacting to her or to the clutter covering the kitchen counter.

“I have lived in this house my entire life, and I have never seen my mother set foot here in the kitchen,” he remarked. “This is quite the scandal for the new Duchess of Wentley. What is it that you are making?”

Selina blushed at the comment, which strangely sounded like a compliment. She was also touched by his genuine interest and felt hopeful that he was not furious with her about the other night.

“It is not a scandal, except perhaps for the late hour. The servants are asleep, and I had no intention of bothering them during their time of rest. They already work rather tirelessly during the day. Also, I promised the widows I would bring them provisions before the week is over, and when you promise them something, they can be… ferocious. Besides, they are struggling with food and coal. I could not bear to disappoint them. Not being able to sleep is an opportunity to make this happen.”

Selina quickly closed her mouth as soon as she realized she was rambling. Matthew gave her enough space, watching her without comment until the pause grew too long.

“You care a lot about those women,” he mused. His tone held no mockery, only thoughtfulness and observation. That made it easier for Selina to share more of her feelings.

“I do care about them,” she admitted. “I have always wanted to help the least fortunate. However, I also think that what I am doing is more than charity.” She hesitated before continuing, “After I was left alone for years, I felt like a widow myself. Therefore, I can understand their loneliness. At least I am fortunate to have an income, but they…”

“Selina…” Matthew’s voice was a low rasp. He stepped forward, but then hesitated and remained where he was. “I am so sorry for making you feel like that. I did make you feel like a widow in every way that mattered, did I not?”

“Matthew—”

The way he looked at her left her at a loss for words. Though he stood a few feet away, his commanding presence was impossible to ignore.

“Let me help you with that,” he said, almost pleading.

“E-excuse me?” she asked.

“With your baskets,” Matthew replied. He rolled up his sleeves, revealing muscular forearms that spoke of years spent working. Selina was surprised to find a duke so strong. Then again, she had no complaints; she knew how it felt to be held in those arms. His eyes swept over her supplies as he began sorting bread, preserves, and more into the appropriate baskets. “You have twenty baskets to fill. You will need help unless you intend to stay until sunrise, when the servants would be awake to see you here.”

“Are you ashamed that the current Duchess of Wentley is in the kitchens?” she asked, teasingly.

“Of course not. However, you do need to keep your sense of mystery and get at least a few hours of sleep. You may not be sleepy now, but you will feel like fainting later.”

“All right, then. But do you even know what goes in what?” she asked, raising an eyebrow, as she watched him arrange some food items in a basket.

“Oh, but you are here to instruct me,” Matthew replied good-humoredly.

For the next hour, they worked side by side quietly. Selina arranged the delicate tins and tied the ribbons into bows, while Matthew handled the soap blocks and jars of preserves.

Their hands sometimes brushed as they handled the ribbons and organized the baskets. Each jolt kept Selina awake and alert for the next basket, but she refused to let her mind drift in that direction again.