The Beauty Of Rose

B E L L E D E LA BALLE

XXI

MATTHEW HAD NEVER been more anxious about a stupid ball in his life.

He told himself it was because he would be surrounded by nobility for the first time in his life, but the notion was ridiculous. But he refused to address the real root of his concern. He told himself it was because of his latest appointment with Mr. Crawford, which wasn't a complete lie.

His solicitor done his best to research the laws of divorce and annulment as well research the Axels. "Your wife's father and mother are dead. And from what I could gather, it seems her relatives don't care a great deal for her," Mr. Crawford summarized.

"You're correct," Matthew answered.

"And I assume you're scared to yield Mrs. Whitfield to the guardianship of her relatives because they might abuse her? And, swallow any money you give her as well?"

"Yes," Matthew repeated. He hated hearing his wife's reality out loud. It made him feel horrible.

"Then, the best course of action is a ruse, sir."

Matthew leaned forward in his chair. "I'm sorry?"

"Divorce Mrs. Whitfield's on grounds of refusing intercourse, and leave her without a penny. Her family might demand compensation, and you might have have to part with a small sum. But pay the sum directly to the Axels."

"I cannot leave her without nothing," Matthew responded, aghast at the suggestion. "I won't."

"You won't be leaving her with nothing, per say. After she is left without allowance, her family will likely allow her to purchase a small residence by herself. It'll be meager and without many amenities, but Mrs. Whitfield would only have to make do for a year. Then you can begin to give regular allowances and provide her with any residences you see fit."

It was a brilliant idea. Matthew was grateful for his solicitor for solving his predicament, and he told him so. But faced with a solution to their divorce, his heart clenched. She would probably never want to see his face again after the papers were drawn up. And there would be no excuse to come to her side, especially with a demanding new baby. Mrs. Whitfield would be gone forever.

Matthew could not explain these newfound feelings to himself. He couldn't explain why a woman he'd ignored for years suddenly consumed his thoughts. But she did. And there he was, excited to see the face of a woman he knew wanted nothing to do with him.

"You look very handsome," Victoria told him in a pinched voice the evening of the ball.

"Thank you, dear," Matthew replied, ignoring her obvious discomfort. He didn't have time for it.

She picked up his wrist and sniffed it before setting it down. "Is that eau de cologne? You never wear that."

"All the nobleman wear it, dear," he replied patiently.

"Well, I hate it," Victoria declared, childishly. She looked positively sullen.

Matthew kissed her lightly on the lips, with a tenderness she didn't deserve, and then soundly on the cheek. "I must be off. I'll miss you, love."

"I'm sure you will," Victoria muttered contemptuously. Matthew could only muster a small smile before practically running out of the door. The forty minute ride to The Georgia was possibly the longest ride of his life. He hated the way he drummed his fingers restlessly on his leg or how his fingernail scraped against his carriage seat. He hated the way he could feel his heart thumping in his chest as he walked up the steps to the resort. And Matthew hated his inward gasp once he finally saw his wife. That part couldn't be helped, though. Rose looked indescribable.