Matteo didn’t know how he made it through the rest of the evening. He couldn’t remember what he said to the prince over cards. He didn’t even know if he heard the conversations going on around him. But the night did pass, and finally the guests departed. Scarlet stood in silence next to him at their front door as they bid goodnight to the last of them. Her hand rested on his arm, but he felt no warmth from her. When the door closed and they had thanked Buckley, she turned without a word and headed up the stairs.

“Scarlet, wait.”

She faced him. “Matteo, the guests are gone. There is no more need to pretend. Let us only sleep.” Her eyes showed a touch of compassion in an otherwise vacant expression. “Are you not tired? Surely you long for your bed.”

Numb, becoming hopeless, he was too tired to convince her that forever, his idea of bed would always include her. Too tired to reach for her when all he needed was to feel her embrace. Too tired to even speak when all he wanted was to pour out his troubles in a heap at her feet. Instead, he watched her go, and the despair in his mind robbed him of any further energy. She turned at the top of the stairs and entered her room. The door shut with a final snap behind her.

Had she locked the door between them? He didn’t dare try it, because he couldn’t bear to know. Instead, he endured Edwards and his preparations for Matteo’s wedding night. Finally, when the man left him, Matteo crawled into his bed and sank beneath the sheets alone. Tomorrow. Tomorrow would be better. Scarlet must feel tired, overwhelmed. Things would be better tomorrow.

He tried to block out the faces from his childhood, the DuPont family visiting in his uncle’s home. The young girl riding around on his back as he pretended to be a new pony. The father shaking his hand as he went off to school, acting as his father would have. Even that ridiculous and much-needed beating when his youth had led to recklessness. Tears flowed, and his body shuddered with the sobs he had repressed all evening.

***