Page 32 of Married to a Wicked Duke
Artists like my wife.
The thought caught him off guard. For the first time since they had met, Veronica had been momentarily at the back of his thoughts, but now she had returned to the forefront of his mind with a vengeance. What would she think of this space? Of his plans for the gallery? He found himself wanting to share his idea with her. His excitement over the discovery of the house.
The realization was an uncomfortable one. What was it his grandmother had said?“Perhaps this work will be made even more meaningful if you have a wife to share it with.”Heaven and hell, he did not want her to be right. That made things endlessly more complicated.
He was not supposed to want tosharethings with his wife. They were supposed to keep their own lives to themselves and live out their marriage in name only. Just last night, he had used those very same words. But now, the thought of such an arrangement left Frederick feeling cold. Hollow. He shook the thought away.
“My lawyer will be in touch shortly,” he told the owner of the house, holding out a hand for the man to shake. “I look forward to doing business with you.”
The man nodded. “Thank you, Your Grace. I’m glad the place was to your liking.”
With a spring in his step—hampered only slightly by his uncomfortable realization about his need to share things with his wife—Frederick strode back to the carriage. “Take me to the school in Lambeth,” he told the coachman. He nodded towards the box of books he had collected from the library at Brownwood Manor. “I would like to deliver these to the school.”
* * *
Turning down his footman’s offer of assistance, Frederick made his way into the school with his arms full of books. There was little furniture in the place as yet, so he made his way to the small teachers’ room at the back of the school and stacked them on the table. Then he pushed open the door to one of the classrooms, keen to inspect the progress.
Frederick stopped in his stride. Since last he had been here, a beautiful mural had begun to be painted on the side wall, flowers of all colors stretching from floor to ceiling. He let out his breath. Found himself taking a step closer to examine the painting. He could smell fresh oil paint; could tell the work had only recently been done.
He stood close to examine the fine brushstrokes. The flowers were larger than life, but impeccably detailed, with fine shadowing on the petals and delicate lines depicting the stems and stamens. The work was familiar, he realized, but he could not quite place it. Where had he seen such fine work before?
He took a few steps back, observing the mural from afar. With a sudden jolt, Frederick realized where he had seen this style before. Realized where he recognized these brushstrokes from. He brought a hand to his mouth.
“Your Grace?” He turned at the sound of the familiar voice. And when he turned, he could barely claim to be surprised.
ChapterThirteen
Veronica took a step towards him. “What are you doing here?” she asked. Her voice was tiny, as though she were afraid he would fly into a rage or speak to her so heartlessly again. Frederick felt a violent pang of regret.
He swallowed. “I could ask the same of you.”
Veronica glanced downward. “My sister’s husband, the Duke of Larsen, is one of the investors in the school. He had the idea of painting the mural and Gemma suggested I do it…” She dared to look up at him. “You are also funding the school?”
He nodded. “I am. Yes. I…” He cleared his throat, unable to make sense of the thundering of his heart. “I did not realize your brother-in-law was also involved in the project. I know little of the other investors.”
Veronica nodded wordlessly.
Frederick found himself taking a step toward her. Up close, he could see her fingertips were stained in color, and there was a large streak of blue paint across one cheek. He fought the urge to reach out and touch it. “You painted the mural,” he said.
Veronica nodded. “Yes.”
“It’s beautiful.”
A tiny smile lit up her face. “It is not finished yet, as you can see. But I hope it will bring the children some joy.”
“I am sure it will,” said Frederick. “You are very talented.” For several moments, neither of them spoke. A carriage rattled noisily past the window, chased by a barking dog.
Footsteps sounded towards them. “Veronica, I—” His wife’s sister appeared in the doorway, then stopped abruptly at the sight of him. “Oh. Your Grace. I apologize. I did not realize…” She frowned. “Why are you here?”
Frederick cleared his throat. “It seems your husband and I are funding the same project, Your Grace.”
“I see.” The Duchess looked at him with slightly narrowed eyes, and Frederick wondered what Veronica had told her sister. Probably everything. That was what sisters did, wasn’t it? No doubt the Duchess of Larsen knew of every cold word he had spouted. Frederick knew he deserved the cold eyes his new sister-in-law was spearing him with.
“I hope you have not come here to upset your new wife again,” she snapped. “Because if you are, I—”
“Gemma.” Veronica’s cheeks flushed. “It’s all right,” she murmured. “There’s no need to make him rue the day he was born.”
A pointed look passed between the sisters. The Duchess of Larsen fell silent, but she kept her critical eyes glued to Frederick. He turned back to Veronica. “Have you finished your work for the day?” he asked.
