Scoundrel With A Noble Heart (sequel of Disgraceful)

Chapter 101

A cold fist squeezed Matthew's heart as he ascended the steps of Willowbrook. An agonizing hour on the road had done little to loosen the shroud of dread that clung to him. He'd gone through a lot more than most people, but nothing could have prepared him for this - the impending loss of a woman he once loved fiercely, and the child within her.

The heavy oak door swung open before he could brace himself. Inside, the air hung heavy with oppressive gloom. Servants, their faces etched with solemn respect, ushered him towards a specific chamber. His heart hammered a frantic rhythm against his ribs with each measured step. A maid hurried to open the door, revealing the hushed scene within. Two figures hovered around the large bed in the middle of the room. The housekeeper, Mrs. Jones, and a younger maid turned at his entrance, their faces etched with sorrow as they bowed their heads. Matthew froze, his breath catching in his throat. There, bathed in the pale light filtering through the window, lay Arabella. As serene as ever, she resembled a sleeping beauty trapped in a cruel enchantment, waiting for a miracle to break the curse. Despite himself, his heart clenched painfully as his gaze swept over her. She was a vision of ethereal beauty even in sleep. Yet, a subtle change had settled over her features. Her plump lips, normally the color of a ripened cherry, had turned purple gray. The vibrant glow in her face, usually so full of life, was extinguished, replaced by a stillness that sent a fresh wave of terror crashing into him.

"She hasn't stirred since yesterday," a choked voice rasped beside him, Mrs. Jones, her face crumpled with grief. "The doctor said..." the woman's voice faltered, "...it would be a miracle if she ever opened her eyes again."

The world dissolved into a muted blur as the stark reality settled over him. His gaze locked on Arabella's peaceful features, a stark contrast to the storm raging within him. Memories crashed through him, from the very moment her beauty caught him off guard to their wild, endless lovemaking in their fleeting romance. Though in the end she'd broken his heart to pieces, nobody had ever given him more pleasure, more joy. Guilt choked his throat as he recalled how he'd ruthlessly dismissed the information of her illness back then. If only he'd come earlier, he might have a chance to have a final word with her, to bid her a proper goodbye .

"Sir?" A hesitant voice ripped Matthew from his paralysis. The butler stood expectantly by the doorway, his usually composed features etched with concern.
"Excuse me, Sir. I would like to inform you that your chambers are ready, should you require a moment to refresh yourself after your travels."

"Sure," He choked out a reply and stormed out without looking back. He couldn't let anyone else see him falling apart. He couldn't afford the humiliation, worse yet, the pity. He managed to maintain a cool front as he strode past the deferential staff, but inside he felt his world tilted on its axis. He'd vowed never to shed tears for her again, but now, heat stung the corner of his eyes. The hollowness, the pain that he thought he'd gotten through, roared back to life. The vibrant colors of the surroundings leached away, replaced by a dull, washed-out gray.

Just as the door shut behind him, the dam within him finally broke. The mask he'd worn, the stoic facade, crumbled to dust. His vision blurred as he sank to his knees, a choked sob erupting from his throat. Tears, hot and unbidden, streamed down his face as the weight of his grief, a crushing tidal wave, engulfed him completely. In that moment, stripped bare of pretense, he succumbed to despair, weeping like a lost child who'd just discovered the harsh realities of the world.

******

The house was quiet as a tomb when Matthew stepped out of his chamber hours later. He'd wrestled with his emotions and finally acknowledged the truth - Arabella, flaws and all, held a piece of his heart. His eyes, red-rimmed and sore, scanned the darkened hallway. He'd spent the last hours grappling with his grief, a raw ache still pulsing in his chest. Now he'd managed to muster just enough strength to see her again, to stay by her side, to hold her hand when she took her last breath. When he reached Arabella's chamber, he found the heavy oak door hang ajar, a muffled conversation drifted from within.