“Get out of my house!” Matthew waved at Robert who was standing guard on the stairs. The footman rushed over. “Escort Miss Pearce from the premises. Ensure she has transport home. Inform Hopkins that she is no longer welcome here.”
“It is of no consequence,” Lucinda said, thrusting her chin in the air. “These parties used to be
fun. But your wife has turned you into a dull, rather tiresome bore.”
Priscilla had saved him from an empty, lonely existence. She encouraged him to be a better person.
“This world was once a fantasy. But it is a fantasy based on falsehoods. Look closely at the real people behind the masks, and you’ll find it is just a horror show full of freaks.”
Lucinda chuckled. “And the real horror is taking place in the summerhouse as we speak.”
“You should be thankful you’re not a man else you’d not be standing,” he said and then turned on his heels and raced out through the terrace doors and into the night.
Chapter 21
Matthew descended the terrace steps two at a time. Despite the lit braziers and lamps dotted around the perimeter of the garden, it was too difficult to distinguish faces in the dark. Lucinda had mentioned the summerhouse, and so he ran across the grass and darted behind the large topiary hedge.
The small wooden building sat nestled in the north-west corner of the garden. Although he’d spoken to Priscilla about auctioning the key, the room was always unlocked.
Coming to within a few feet of the tiny house, he crept up to the door. The sound of breathless pants and moans confirmed someone was inside. If Boden had touched a hair on Priscilla’s head there’d be hell to pay.
Murder was the only thought on Matthew’s mind when he opened the door and marched inside. Despite a red mist descending, he recognised Boden’s broad frame towering over his quarry hidden in the shadows. Indeed, the guttural groans and smacking of lips awakened a rage so intense he could barely focus.
Lunging at Boden, Matthew grabbed the collar of his coat and dragged him back.
“What the hell?” With arms flailing Boden struggled to keep his balance as Matthew shook him like a disobedient pup.
“I’ve tolerated your conceit and your arrogant comments. But I warned you, lay a hand on my wife and you’ll not live to see another day.”
Just for good measure, and because he’d been itching to do it for weeks, Matthew released Boden and punched him hard in the stomach.
With a loud groan, the lord’s head fell forward so fast his chin almost hit the floor. “What the bloody hell was that for?” Boden clutched his stomach as he tried to straighten. “I’ve not touched your wife. I’ve not seen her since … since the card game.”
“You had your tongue down someone’s throat.”
“This is a private matter.” Boden wobbled and shuffled to block the identity of the figure hiding behind the plant in the corner. “It is no concern of yours who I spend my time with.”
“Who is she?” Every bone and fibre in Matthew’s body told him it was not Priscilla. This lady had been a willing partner, and he trusted his wife implicitly.
“I do not have to answer to you. Why do you care?”
“Miss Pearce said you’d lured my wife out here. While I’m confident she was lying in the hope of causing me distress, I’ll not leave until I learn the identity of your partner.”
What was his problem? All the ladies present swopped lovers regularly.
“This is an outrage.” Boden threw his hands in the air. “Can a man not have his privacy?”
“Not in my home, no.” Matthew peered around Boden’s shoulder. “I suggest you come out and show yourself so we can all go about our business.” He glanced at Boden. “These parties are an opportunity for members to partake in illicit affairs. You have no need to fear anyone’s censure.”
“I fear no one,” Boden spat. “And it’s an affront—”
“It doesn’t matter, Lawrence,” the mystery figure interjected in a cool, masculine tone. “I’m certain we can be assured of Mr Chandler’s discretion.”
The gentleman stepped out from the shadows. His golden hair was ruffled, his lips swollen. The blush rising to his cheeks made him appear timid, angelic.
“Mr Musswell,” Matthew said in as calm a voice as he could muster under the circumstances. But it wasn’t anger that flowed through his veins. Indeed, seeing the look of vulnerability pass over Boden’s face caused a rush of satisfaction. “Forgive me. I fear Miss Pearce likes to cause trouble. Had I not been concerned for my wife’s safety, I would not have disturbed your … your evening.”
“That blasted woman,” Boden snapped.