KNOW HER PLACE, Matthew thought angrily as he angrily he washed away the stink of the previous day.

Victoria uttered that sentence so easily, as if she weren't currently a mistress herself. After that statement, she'd left their rooms, leaving him to stare after her in amazement. Matthew had sat on his bed and stewed for a few minutes, before finally deciding on a bath. His mind was already whirring with plans for the future.

Victoria could be his wife if she liked, but their romance was over as far as he was concerned. He'd move her to the other side of the mansion as soon as their child reached the appropriate age. She'd actually tried to kill Rose. Why had he ever ignored that?

Matthew descended the steps to the kitchen after his bath with a frightful disposition, but slightly calmed nerves. Bert approached him once he was at the bottom of the staircase. "Sir, are you planning on seeing Mr. Crawford now or should I send him anyway?"

"Mr. Crawford?" Matthew was temporarily caught off guard before a wave of anger washed over him. "Victoria shouldn't sent him away."

"She did not, sir."

Of course she didn't. And, to dismiss Crawford after waiting for an hour would be the epitome of rudeness. "I'll see him now."

Matthew entered the drawing room with brisk, cordiality. "I'm sorry for the delay, Crawford. I've had quite the morning."

"It's no problem, sir," the solicitor replied.

"What brings you here today?"

"The divorce contract is ready, Mr. Whitfield. It now only requires the signature of you when your wife."

Matthew tensed. "Ready so soon? I thought it would be done by the end of the week."

"By the end of the week," Crawford echoed. "I finished it early, sir." The solicitor regarded his client carefully. "I can assure you that it's not rushed, if that's your concern." He produced a sheaf of papers from a black bag.

Mathew dismissively waved his hand. He did not want to read it. He didn't even want to touch it. "I trust you implicitly, Crawford. I just...I didn't think it would be ready so soon."

The solicitor nodded understandingly. "I can come back later in the week if you like, sir."

Matthew looked at the papers and wondered if he should prolong the inevitable. "No, good man. Give me the paper I need to sign."

Crawford produced a paper from the stack and handed it to Matthew. Matthew quickly signed the contract before handing it back to his solicitor. "I'll make sure to send it to your wife. She stays at Ludlow House, correct?"

Matthew felt a swell of panic. "No, don't sent it to her," he said quickly. There was an uncomfortable pause. "Not..yet. Give it a day, at least."

"Of course, sir. I'll send it tomorrow."

Matthew extended a hand. "Thank you."

His solicitor shook it. "You're welcome, sir."

Matthew shook it and bade him goodbye. No sooner had Mr. Crawford left did Bert enter the room to announce another guest.

"Mrs. Dubois is here to see you, sir," Bert said.

Matthew sighed noisily. What could she possibly want? "Send her in."

Elisabeth entered the drawing room somewhat nervously. "Mr. Whitfield."

"Mrs. Dubois." Courtesy told him to beg Elizabeth to call him by his Christian name. but Matthew wasn't feeling particularly cordial. His nerves were already frayed, and though it was no fault of Elisabeth's, she would be on the receiving end of some ice all the same. "What brings you here today?"

"I came to talk to you about Rose," Elisabeth replied.

"Oh, are you inquiring of her whereabouts? She's not in a sanatorium, as your husband might've told you. She's currently at Ludlow House."

"I wasn't inquiring about Rose's whereabouts," Elisabeth pronounced slowly. "I wanted to talk about the divorce."

So this was to be a lecture, Matthew thought. So be it. "What about the divorce?"

"I was hoping I could persuade you to stop it. I know that you would very much like you marry Victoria, after all, she is the mother of your child and the woman of your heart. But I ask you to consider what abandoning Rose to her family will do."

Matthew only blinked at her.

"It will kill her," Elizabeth continued. "She has absolutely no one left. It would be cruel to her to the whims of her family. If you a need mistress for heirs and spares, fine. Rose has no right to expect anything less. But don't divorce her."

"I'm doing everything in my power to serve both me and Rose's best interests," Matthew said thinly.

"Then you wouldn't divorce her. Matthew..." She paused for a moment, weighing her words. "Matthew I am her only friend, her only joy. Frances and I are planning on having children very soon and I'll be occupied in my new role as mother. I won't have time for another burden."

Matthew's brows knitted in mild shock. How could someone refer to a friend as a burden? "I can assure you that you aren't her only joy. Haven't you heard? Your best friend has made the acquaintance of the crown princess."

"Catching the eye of a royal for a moment isn't the same as having a friend," Elisabeth said dismissively.

"Why do you believe Rose is nothing more than a passing fancy?" Matthew asked.

"Because, Elizabeth shrugged, what could a princess possibly want with her?"

"You believe your friend has no qualities redeeming enough to warrant a friend besides you?"

Elizabeth looked visibly stunned. "I didn't mean..."

"Or no qualities that make her worthy enough to have a husband who doesn't keep a mistress and child? Do you believe your friend is incapable of finding a husband?"

"I..."

"I have made sure that Rose will never have to live with her family again. I will provide for her in every way I possibly can. While you did not have the privilege of attending Princess Lettie's hall, I can assure you that she was a wonder. I have no doubt that she'll be remarried by the time she is twenty-two." This truth had not occurred to Matthew until he had the pleasure of throwing it in Elisabeth's face. The thought of Rose married to another deepened his headache.

"The only thing I heard about the ball was that Rose made a scene," Elisabeth murmured.

"Only after she danced with all the men in the room," Matthew added. "But of course, such a thing had not occurred to you. To you, Rose is only a burden, an object of absolute pity. However, I can assure you, my wife will be just fine. You needn't worry."

Elisabeth peered at him with an ugly look. "You don't get to talk to me like that."

"Excuse me?"

"You don't get to talk to me like that, Matthew. You do not get to judge me. I have not regarded Rose in the best light, that is true. To me, she's always been an object of disdain, that is how everyone regarded her. But look at you! For the past four years you didn't give a damn about her, and now you rebuke me on her behalf? I didn't believe the gossip, but now I see it is true. You're in love with her."

"So what?" Matthew asked icily.

"Frances tells me everything, you know," Elisabeth continued. "Victoria tried to murder her. But here you are, marrying the woman who would slit her throat in a heartbeat. Here you are, marrying a whore instead of the woman you love. But, you want to sit a throne of pretend righteousness and accuse me of being a poor friend? I won't let you."

Now, Matthew's frayed nerves snapped. If Elisabeth thought he was rude now, he would gladly show her how unkind he could really be. But he wouldn't. Elisabeth, like all women, seemed incredibly sensitive. Sensitive women almost always cried when confronted with rude words, and Matthew could see her breaking out in tears after he unleashed a brutal dressing-down.

That wasn't really the crux of his problem, in fact, Matthew would relish seeing the hypocrite weep. The problem was what she would do after she was done weeping in his drawing room. Elisabeth would assuredly confide in her husband, who adored his wife (perhaps too much in Matthew's opinion). Frances would no doubt ride to Whitfield mansion to exchange heated words, blows too probably, that would end in a brawl. Ordinarily, that would be of little or no consequence, but these were not ordinary circumstances. Matthew self control was absolutely shot. He was angry, bitter, and contrite. If given an outlet to displace his emotions, it would certainly end more severely than he meant. Matthew end up killing the man, or worse, Frances might do the same.

So, Matthew bit his tongue and offered Elisabeth a bland smile. "Would you like some tea, Mrs. Dubois? Or biscuits, perhaps?" he asked civilly.

Elisabeth looked at him with mild surprise. The question threw her off balance. "No."

"No?" Perhaps some lemonade then? It's nearly lunchtime and I'm parched."

"I don't need any refreshments. That's not why I'm here."

"Right." Matthew reached for a crystal tumbler and his whiskey decanter, not caring at the impropriety. That was the best solution for merry sickness anyway, Matthew thought. Just keep drinking. "Is nanny done then?"

Elisabeth narrowed his eyes. "Nanny?"

"Yes." Matthew swallowed the contents of his glass in one gulp and smiled. His headache was already starting to ebb. He smiled lazily. "That's what I used to say as a child when someone prattled incessantly about a subject. You know how they are, nannies. They're full of corrections and lessons."

Elisabeth looked disapprovingly at the tumbler before rising from her seat. "Nanny's done."

The whiskey did the trick. Matthew was actually able to rise from his seat and politely walk Elisabeth to her carriage. The buzz was sufficient enough to lighten his disposition, until he saw Victoria in the living room. How would he live with her forever? Victoria smiled at him as he joined the table.

"I have a surprise for you."