Scandal in Spring (Wallflowers #4)(79)

“Climb up to where?” Waring asked in patent disdain. “You were a servant—an Irish servant—you had no hope of becoming a gentleman.”

A curious half-smile crossed Daisy’s face. “But that is precisely what he did in New York, Mr. Waring. Matthew earned a place for himself in business and society—and he most certainly became a gentleman.”

“Under the guise of a false identity,” Waring shot back. “He’s a fraud, don’t you see?”

“No,” Daisy replied, looking straight at Matthew, her eyes bright and dark. “I see a gentleman.”

Matthew wanted to kiss her feet. Instead he dragged his gaze away from her and continued. “I did everything I could to keep Harry at Harvard, while he seemed hell-bent on earning expulsion. The drinking and gaming and…”

Matthew hesitated as he reminded himself that there were ladies present. “…other things,” he continued, “became worse. The monthly expenditures far outstripped his allowance, and the gambling debt grew to such unmanageable proportions that even Harry began to worry. He was afraid of the repercussions he would face once his father learned the extent of his trouble. Being Harry, he looked for the easy way out. Which explains the holiday at home when the safe was robbed. I knew at once Harry had done it.”

“Poisonous lies,” Waring spat.

“Harry pointed the finger at me,” Matthew said, “rather than admit he had robbed the safe to take care of his debts. He had decided I would have to be sacrificed so he could save his own skin. Naturally the family took their son’s word over mine.”

“Your guilt was proven in court,” Waring said harshly.

“Nothing was proven.” Anger bolted through Matthew, and his breath deepened as he struggled for control. He felt Daisy’s hand seeking his, and he took it. His grip was too tight, but he couldn’t seem to moderate it.

“The trial was a farce,” Matthew said. “It was rushed to keep the papers from reporting too closely on the case. My court-appointed lawyer literally slept through most of it. There was no evidence to connect me to the theft. A servant of one of Harry’s classmates had come forward with the claim that he’d overheard Harry and two friends plotting to incriminate me, but he was too afraid to testify.”

Seeing that Daisy’s fingers were turning white from the pressure of his, Matthew forced his hand to loosen. His thumb brushed gently over the points of her knuckles. “I had a stroke of luck,” he continued more quietly, “when a reporter for the Daily Advertiser wrote an article exposing Harry’s past gambling debts, and revealing that those same debts had coincidentally been cleared right after the robbery. As a result of the article there was a growing public outcry at the obvious travesty of the proceedings.”

“And yet you were still convicted?” Lillian asked in outrage.

Matthew smiled wryly. “Justice may be blind,” he said, “but it loves the sound of money. The Warings were too powerful, and I was a penniless servant.”

“How did you escape?” Daisy asked.

The shadow of a bitter smile lingered. “That was as much a surprise to me as it was to everyone else. I had been loaded in the prison wagon—it left for the state prison before the sun had come up. The wagon stopped on an empty stretch of road. Suddenly the door was unlocked, and I was pulled outside by a half-dozen men. I assumed I was going to be lynched. But they said they were sympathetic citizens determined to right a wrong. They set me free—the guards of the prison wagon put up no resistance—and I was given a horse. I made it to New York, sold the horse, and started a new life.”

“Why did you choose the name Swift?” Daisy asked.

“By that time I had learned the power of a well-respected name. And the Swifts are a large family with many branches, which I thought would make it easier to get by without close scrutiny.”

Thomas Bowman spoke then, threatened pride cutting him to the quick. “Why did you come to me for a position? Did you think to make a dupe of me?”

Matthew looked directly at him, remembering his first impression of Thomas Bowman…a powerful man willing to give him a chance, too preoccupied with his business to ask probing questions. Canny, bull-headed, flawed, single-minded…the most influential masculine figure in Matthew’s life.

“Never,” Matthew said sincerely. “I admired what you had accomplished. I wanted to learn from you. And I…” His throat tightened. “…I came to regard you with respect and gratitude, and the greatest affection.”

Bowman’s face reddened with relief, and he nodded slightly, his eyes glittering.

Waring had the look of a man undone, his composure shattering like cheap glass. He glared at Matthew with quivering hatred. “You’re trying to soil my son’s memory with your lies,” he said. “I won’t allow it. You assumed if you came to a foreign country no one would—”

“His memory?” Matthew looked up alertly, stunned. “Harry is dead?”

“Because of you! After the trial there were rumors, lies, doubts that never disappeared. Harry’s friends avoided him. The stain on his honor—it ruined his life. If you had admitted your guilt—if you had served the time you owed—Harry would still be with me. But people’s filthy suspicions built over time, and living in that shadow caused Harry to drink and live recklessly.”