Rescued By A Viscount(24)
“Some way? Surely you would acknowledge it as your niece or nephew, Mathew? This child is something that is part of our brother. Anthony deserves more than this from you, and his child deserves our protection when its father is not here to give it.”
Mathew walked in a circle around her room, pacing like a caged animal. A large hand raked continuously through his hair.
“There is no child, Claire, now I beg of you to let the matter drop. Mother is distressed, and you are making more of this mess than needs to be.”
“We are discussing a small, helpless child, Mathew, not a mess.”
His jaw was clenched so tight, she could see the taut muscles.
“You told me you would have someone look into it, at least, Mathew. Surely if the existence of the child is confirmed, you will go and collect it?”
He wouldn’t look at her, and Claire realized with dawning horror that he had lied.
“I have said my final words on this matter, Claire. Therefore you will not speak of it again.”
“Dear god, you lied to me.” Claire was suddenly filled with rage. An uncontrollable need to lash out at Mathew gripped her. “No one has been sent to Liverpool, have they? How can you do this?
“Enough! Not one more word, Claire.” Anger had him stalking towards her.
Claire rose to meet him, her rage more than equalling his. “How dare you not care for our brother’s child! You are a bloody coward, Mathew, concerned only for yourself and what others will think of the high and mighty Lord Belmont.”
“Shut up!”
“Anthony would have done this for you, were your roles reversed, Mathew. He would not have hesitated.”
His laugh was brittle as he stopped just inches from her. “Ah, but your sainted Anthony could never do any wrong in your eyes, Claire, could he?”
“He is your brother.” Claire heard the pleading in her words. “It matters not whether I believed him a saint or not–what matters is the child.” Her heart sank as she saw his expression become emotionless once more. He returned to the composed Lord Belmont. “I never thought you a hard man, Mathew, or a cruel one, but this–what you are not doing–will change everything between us.” Claire’s words were a whisper, and in them was a final, desperate plea to her big brother for him to help her, help the child.
“You always cared more for him than me, sister. I knew that, and in truth, you have been cold and distant to me since his death. I cannot see that your future behavior will be much different.”
Claire knew then she had hurt him by turning away from him when Anthony died.
“I’m sorry. I see now that my closeness to Anthony was unfair to you, but believe me, I never meant to hurt you, Mathew–”
He waved her words away. “It matters not. What matters is that I forbid any more discussions about a child that does not exist, Claire, and I will hear no more on the matter. You will go to the country tomorrow with the Duke and Duchess of Stratton, as I know they will watch over you and it will be good to remove you from London. When you return, you will not leave the house without telling me where you are going and with whom. I will know your movements every minute of every day until I’m sure that you will not put yourself in danger following this foolish hoax.” “Surely you can’t mean what you say, Mathew?” Claire stared at his unyielding face in horror.
“I mean every word. Now prepare yourself for this evening, please. We are to leave in one hour for the Duke and Duchess of Waverly’s musical evening.”
“You expect us to go out tonight after everything that has happened?”
“That is exactly what I expect, and you will be ready and looking your best at the appointed time, or I shall force you into clothing myself.”
Claire looked at the man before her. Suddenly he felt like a stranger. “I don’t even know you anymore.” Her words were a ragged whisper.
“Anymore,” he scoffed. “You never knew me.” The door slammed at his hand, and then she was alone.
Claire had no idea that the closeness between her and Anthony had upset Mathew so much. He had never seemed to care what either of them thought; he was always too busy being head of the family. Dear god, had he been lonely? Pushing aside these thoughts, she rang for her maid. She had no time now to think about Mathew, and after what she was about to do tomorrow, they would probably never speak again. Therefore there was nothing to be gained by getting herself worked up about it. He had ordered her appearance this evening, and she did not want to antagonize him further because he was still allowing her to go to Stratton, and as this was her only chance to do what she must, she would appease him until she left.