Page 7 of A Wallflower's Christmas Wreath
"What happened between you and Lady Emma? You left for London, and everyone expected you to return a married man, but you did not." She glanced at him and found him watching her.
"That is a very forward question to ask." His mouth thinned into a displeased line that used to always make her smile and want to turn it upside down.
"There is no one to hear our conversation that does not know you did not marry, and I have always wondered." She watched him, more than curious. "Tell me. I will not share what you say with anyone in the village, I promise."
"You may leave," he ordered the one footman. The young man left without further instruction, closing the door behind him and leaving them alone. "So you want to know what happened?" he stated, his attention dipping to her lips quickly before meeting her eyes.
That odd, annoying feeling fluttered in her belly, and she nodded. "Yes." I absolutely want to hear what happened, so long as you tell me that Lady Emma had a comedown equal to how high she thought herself."
Matthew thoughtback to that week in London where everything had been planned, ordered, organized down to a T for his upcoming marriage, and yet everything went so wrong.
"We arrived in London, and within three days of being in the city, I heard word of your parents’ deaths. I suggested we postpone the marriage a month or two, so I could try to return home, but that was met with disappointment and anger, on Lady Emma's behalf in any case."
He swallowed and watched Heidi and could see she had no clue that her family tragedy was a factor in his failed betrothal. Her cutlery clattered to the table before she hastily picked it up and busied herself with her meal.
"Your betrothed did not agree?" she asked him, not meeting his eye but keeping watch of her meal instead.
"No, she wanted the marriage to go ahead on Monday as planned, and I would have agreed, knowing that it was unlikely that I would arrive home in time to grieve with you. But it is what she said during that conversation, that I realized I could not marry the woman before me."
Heidi reached out across the table and picked up the bottle of wine, filling their crystal glasses. Matthew did not say what a lapse of manners such an act was, not when Heidi was doing it. She had never stood on ceremony, and he had always admired that about her.
"You did not think to end the betrothal when she insulted me?" Heidi threw at him. "Odd, but please continue," she said, gesturing for him to do so.
"It shames me to repeat what she said," he confessed, meeting Heidi's eye.
"So it was about me, was it? That does not surprise me," she stated matter-of-factly.
Shame washed over him, hating to recall what a woman who was to be his wife, so beautiful outwardly but inside as cold and bitter as a north wind. "It was, well, that is what she started her tirade about. She stated that it was beneath me to attend a local gentleman's funeral, especially one who held no financial or political clout in the area. She accused me of wanting to see and comfort you instead of staying and marrying my betrothed. The tirade then morphed into her being disagreeable about the village, the smell of the sea, and how she hoped we spent very little time here in the future. It was at that point that I knew I could not marry her. I would not have an absent wife. One who preferred London when I love Cornwall so much and the people who are my friends."
"But are we your friends, my lord? I do not think that we are, or tomorrow evening we all would have been invited to your grand ball."
Matthew felt the blow of her words as if she had slapped him across the cheek. He understood what she was saying, and there was truth to her words.
He ought to have invited the locals but, instead, had invited the families of nobility who lived on estates not far from his own. Not that there were many.
"You are right, I should have, and I shall remedy that mistake on the morrow." He picked up his wine, relishing the sweet red. "Do you think they will attend? Every time my cook goes to the market, she returns with news of other family events and dinners of those in town. I suppose I merely thought they would be too busy to attend."
Heidi gave him a disbelieving glance, and he supposed she was right.
"I know," he said, holding up his hand. "I should have invited them in any case, but if I had, what about your Christmas supper? I never wished to take guests from you," he said, smiling at the mulish look on her pretty face.
"What makes you think they would have attended your event instead of mine? I've been loyal to them all along," she said.
"Touché," he agreed. "But I do have the sweetest desserts here, and so that may have won out, and do not forget I have pork."
Four
Lord Levinstone was far too charming and reminiscent of the youthful, playful boy she had once known and adored.
And she had cherished him so very much. Had often dreamed of him bending down on one knee and offering her his hand in marriage. She would have loved to walk beside him in life, to be his wife and mother of his children.
But that changed the moment her family started to fall into financial hardship, and he left for London to have a whirlwind Season that would see him engaged within a month of his arrival. His choice of a rich, pretty bride with an ample dowry suited him very well by all accounts. In contrast, she was left to scrimp and save to keep a roof over her head in rural Cornwall.
For many years she had resented his wealth, but in truth, it was not his fault. He was born into his rich, titled family as she was hers, and she would never regret such a thing. For all the hardships her family faced during her upbringing, she loved her parents and knew they had done the best for her, just as the elder—may he rest in peace—Lord Levinstone had done for his children.
"I'm not certain it is time to jest about the pork, my lord," she replied, meeting his gaze. His dark-blue eyes were alight with laughter, and she could not hold back her chuckle. The man was infuriating, having always had a way of making her laugh, even if she was so dreadfully angry at him.
Which she still was, she reminded herself.
