Scoundrel With A Noble Heart (sequel of Disgraceful)

Chapter 98

In this chapter, both Matthew and Jacob hold their trump cards, and Maggie is about to discover just how high the stakes are in this game of love...

*****

But then a flicker of memory pierced through him, sharp as a shard of ice. Westwood House, the agony in her eyes as she'd chosen him. A bittersweet victory, a priceless gift he barely deserved - her forgiveness, her trust. His own vow echoed in the silent hall, a promise heavy on his tongue: Never to turn away from her again. From now on, she deserves only happiness. He owed her that much, and so much more.

"Sir?" The gentle inquiry shattered his introspection, dragging his gaze back to George. The butler had been so accustomed to Matthew's habit that he concluded the next order himself. "Shall I have your carriage readied?"

"Find another doctor," Matthew mumbled a reply, his gaze fixed on some unseen point in the distance as a new determination dawned on him.
George blinked, his starched collar momentarily wilting in confusion. "Pardon me, Sir?"

"You heard me, George. Find another, and another if need be."
George's eyebrows shot up, his mouth a slack circle. Matthew barely noticed any of it, his gaze and mind now solely fixed on Maggie's figure behind the glass doors.

A sudden wave of tenderness took hold of him, constricting his throat and warming his chest. A deep realization of how much she'd meant to him flooded in. The overwhelming feelings stole into his voice as he declared,
"You see, George. Nothing in the world is more important than the woman waiting for me at the balcony right now. From now on, everything else can wait. Do you understand?"

A moment of stunned silence passed before the butler found his voice, a hint of a smile playing on his face.
"Very well, Sir."
He bowed his head to Matthew's already retreating back before withdrawing.

A cool breeze welcomed Matthew as he strode back into the balcony, his marching footsteps drawing Marguerite's wandering eyes to him.

"Is everything alright?" She asked, an emotion he could only decipher as anticipation of another disappointment etched on her face. "Do you... do you need to go somewhere?"

His chest clenched at the expectant note in her voice.
"No, Maggie. "I'm not going anywhere. I'm here with you, and there's no place I'd rather be."

Matthew resumed his seat and drained his wine glass in one long gulp, the memory of always flying out the door at Arabella's first summons still a bitter aftertaste.

"Never again," he muttered to himself, his jaw firming as he turned back to Maggie.
"Maggie, you deserve someone who wouldn't leave you at every whim, no matter the inconvenience. Someone who wouldn't let you down all those times. I know that's not me, but..." He reached across the table, his hand hovering near hers. "Ours may not be a perfect fairy tale, but it's real, and in the end, you're the one I choose. Just as you chose me."

Marguerite held his gaze, a flicker of something like hope warring with the shadows of doubt in her eyes. The air crackled with unspoken emotions. Determined to wipe away all her doubts, Matthew pushed from his seat, a resolute smile softening the edges of his jaw as he stepped toward her and held out his hand. "Dance with me, Maggie."

Marguerite's breath caught. The simple request lanced through her, resurrecting the memory of her final night with Jacob - their first and last dance on the balcony, the hushed melody of their unspoken desire, the stolen kiss... She couldn't bear to relive the moment, but Matthew's eyes held a silent command. A tense moment stretched between them before she finally placed her hand in his and let him lead her towards the moonlit floor.

His fingers brushed against hers, gentle yet firm, an anchor thrown into the churning sea of her thoughts. Yet, when Matthew swayed her into his embrace, a fresh pang of guilt assaulted her. It felt like a betrayal, as if this, the intimacy of a dance, the whispered touch of skin on skin, the unspoken language of movement in a perfect embrace, was a privilege reserved only for Jacob.