Page 25 of Married to a Wicked Duke
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Veronica heard the crunch of carriage wheels rattling up the driveway to Volk House. They had been back from Cambridge for a day, and Veronica still felt as though she were lost in an unpleasant dream she could not wake from. Her embroidery sampler sat untouched in her lap. She had spent the better part of an hour—or was it two?—staring out the window, trying to make sense of the abrupt path her life had taken.
In two weeks’ time, she would be the Duke of Brownwood's wife. It still did not feel real. Yes, she had known her grandmother had taken her to the Brownwoods’ country house in order to find her a match. But she had imagined she would at least be courted for a time before being thrust toward the altar.
And she had not for a second imagined it might be the Duke himself she would be marrying. True, they had shared more than one… encounter while in Cambridge, but Veronica knew well the Duke was not seeking a wife.
Because of one moment of weakness, he was about to get one anyway. How bitterly it stung to be unwanted.
Veronica heard the murmur of voices in the entrance hall, then the butler knocked on the door of the parlor. “Her Grace the Duchess of Larsen for you, My Lady.”
Veronica flung down her sampler and rushed to the door to meet her older sister. She threw her arms around Gemma’s neck.
Her sister held her tightly, and cocooned in the embrace, Veronica felt her tears return and spill. After a moment, Gemma stepped back, keeping a hold of her sister’s hands. “Oh Veronica, it is not that bad. Everything will be all right. You shall see.”
Veronica coughed down her tears, but before she could manage to speak, she found herself sobbing uncontrollably. Gemma took her sister’s arm and led her back towards the settle. She sat down, tugging Veronica down beside her and keeping hold of her hand. She reached into her reticule and handed her sister a handkerchief.
Veronica wiped her eyes. Though she felt as though she could continue crying for days if given the chance, she desperately needed to speak with her sister. After all, Gemma, too, had been forced into a marriage of convenience. And yet she had found a way to be happy—desperately so. Veronica needed to know how she had done so.
Before she could speak, Gemma said, “Was this Grandmother’s doing?”
Veronica sniffed. “However did you guess?”
Gemma gave a short laugh. “The moment I heard the news, I just knew she had something to do with it. It has her fingerprints all over it.”
Veronica sighed. “I know I cannot blame Grandmother. Not entirely. Yes, she was the one who pressed the Duke to marry me, but… well…” Her cheeks reddened. “We were behaving in a way we should not have been…” She frowned. “Although I do not know how Grandmother happened to be in the right place at the right time in order to witness it…”
“When it comes to marrying off her granddaughters, that woman has a sixth sense,” Gemma said wryly. “Believe me.” She nodded her thanks to the maid, who appeared with a tray of tea and biscuits. She waited until she had filled the teacups and left the room before saying, “You and His Grace were doing things you should not have been?” It was curiosity in her voice, not admonishment, Veronica knew, but that did not stop the color in her cheeks from intensifying. She nodded faintly.
Gemma raised her eyebrows. “So perhaps becoming his wife is not such a dreadful thing after all?”
Veronica didn’t answer at once. She brought her teacup to her lips, letting the warm liquid steady her somewhat. When she trusted herself to speak, she said, “His Grace and I shared a brief kiss, that’s all.” She was wildly underplaying it, she knew. The things that had passed between her and the Duke went far beyond abrief kiss. But best keep to the matter at hand. “He has no desire to take a wife. And I have no desire to be married to a man as cold and surly as him.”
Gemma raised a dark eyebrow. “You must have seen a little more in him than that if you shared a kiss with him.”
Veronica said nothing. Gemma reached over and took her hand. “Listen to me. When I was first forced to become Wyatt’s wife, I thought my life was over. I couldn’t have imagined ever being happy. And I certainly could not have imagined ever falling in love with him. But Wyatt is a wonderful husband. A wonderful father to James. And I love him more than anything.” She smiled. “Sometimes life has a way of surprising you.”
Veronica shook her head, her tears beginning to fall again at her sister’s mention of love. “That is not going to happen for me. I do not think the Duke of Brownwood is even capable of love.”
But as she spoke the words, a voice tugged at the back of her mind, reminding her of the passion with which the Duke had spoken of his portrait painting. Certainly, he loved his art, so perhaps Gemma was right. Perhaps in time, he could also learn to love a wife.
Veronica shook her head. No. It was impossible. She would never have what her sister had, because for that to happen, not only would the Duke need to fall in love with her, but she would also need to fall in love with him. And that was never going to happen. Thisthingbetween her and the Duke, was nothing more than a physical infatuation. An intoxicating, dizzying infatuation, yes, but an infatuation, nonetheless. Veronica knew the kind of man she would fall in love with was someone warm, kind and personable. The Duke of Brownwood was none of those things.
“Give him a chance, Veronica,” Gemma said gently. “I know you can do that. It’s in your nature. You are always so positive and optimistic. Why not try being that way about your marriage as well?”
Veronica nodded faintly. She knew her sister was right. But optimism felt difficult to conjure up right now. She said, “I do not believe I have any choice in the matter.”
Gemma smiled. “No, you don’t. Grandmother has made it that way.” She gave her sister’s hand a squeeze before releasing it and taking hold of her teacup. “In any case, I have news that I think will cheer you somewhat.”
Veronica’s eyes lit up. “Are you with child again? Is James to have a little brother or sister?”
Gemma laughed. “No, that’s not it. This is about you.”
Veronica raised her eyebrows. “About me?”
“Yes. My husband and several other investors are reconstructing a school for orphans. They plan to open in a few weeks’ time. He mentioned they are looking for someone to paint a mural on one of the walls of the classroom. Something colorful and bright that would inspire the children. I wondered if you would be interested.”
Veronica gasped, sitting up straighter in her chair. “Oh, Gemma, yes! I would love to! Thank you!” She threw her arms around her sister, hardly caring that she managed to spill tea in both their laps.
