Page 40 of Married to a Wicked Duke
Veronica’s cheeks colored in an endearing manner. “Of course. I am afraid that will take some getting used to.” She fiddled with the handle of her teacup. “I know Frederick plans to honor his mother and her work through the gallery. I thought the paintings of the garden would be a good way to do that.”
Carla squeezed Veronica’s wrist. “My daughter-in-law would have loved to see them,” she said, suddenly overcome with emotion. She smiled warmly at Veronica. “I do wish she could have met you, my dear. How she would have loved you.” Carla stood suddenly, causing the footman to gambol across the room in an attempt to pull back her chair. “Have you finished eating?” she asked Veronica, though there was still a slice of toast on her plate.
“I…” Veronica looked taken aback at her sudden enthusiasm. She looked down at her plate. “Well…”
“Come with me, my dear,” Carla said, pulling her to her feet. “You can eat later. There is something I wish to show you.”
* * *
Veronica followed the Dowager Duchess out of the breakfast room and up the stairs towards the far wing of the house, slightly bewildered by her sudden need to share whatever it was she planned to show her. When they reached the end of the passage, the Dowager Duchess pushed open the door of a room that Veronica had not yet entered. It was dark inside, heavy curtains pulled closed over the windows. Several crates and packing cases were lined up along one wall, and a large easel stood neglected in one corner. The floorboards were bare, and a lone arm chair had been pushed up against one wall. The room smelled musty and disused, the lingering scent of oil paints hanging in the air.
“This room was my daughter-in-law’s studio,” the Dowager Duchess said, confirming Veronica’s suspicions. “After she died, Frederick moved all her things in here. He forbade anyone from coming in here or getting rid of any of her belongings.”
Veronica glanced edgily over her shoulder at the closed door, her heart quickening. Why had the Dowager Duchess brought her in here? This room was obviously very meaningful to her husband—she could not bear to think how he would react if he caught her here without his permission—even if she was accompanied by his grandmother.
“Perhaps we should…”
The Dowager Duchess waved away her unspoken concern. “Elizabeth was family,” she said firmly. “She was like a daughter to me. I have as much right to be in here as Frederick does.” She went to one of the crates and began to rifle through it. “Besides, I think it’s a dreadful shame that all these things are tucked away and neglected in here. It is not what Elizabeth would have wanted.” A small smile of reminiscence crossed her face. “She knew how lucky she was to come from such a privileged background, and she always wanted to give back to the world. She would have wanted her belongings to be used by those who need them, not locked away turning to dust.” She shook her head to herself. “I have told Frederick this time and time again, but he does not seem to want to listen.”
Veronica stood awkwardly in the center of the room, unable to shake the feeling that she was intruding. Her eyes drew toward an unfinished painting leaning up against one wall. The canvas was colored in different shades of blue, but Veronica could not make out what it was the Duchess had planned to paint. Her chest squeezed. Had Frederick’s mother been painting this just before she had died?
“Here!” The Dowager Duchess stood, brandishing what appeared to be a piece of white clothing. She held it up for Veronica could see. It was a smock of sorts, she realized, long enough to cover a person from shoulders to ankles, with a long row of buttons down the chest. “Elizabeth used to complain that she could never keep her clothing clean when she painted,” said the Dowager Duchess. “And the coveralls designed for men just did not cover ladies’ clothing adequately.” Even in the dim light, Veronica could see the fabric was of fine quality. Paint smears of all colors suggested it had had many years of use.
“I had this made for Elizabeth not long after she married my son,” said the Dowager Duchess. “She confessed to me once that her husband was not as supportive of her painting as she had hoped, and she was considered giving it up. I begged her not to. I had the smock made in the hope it would prevent her from doing so.” She handed it to Veronica. “I know Elizabeth would like you to have it. And so would I.”
Veronica faltered. “Oh, Your Grace, I couldn’t, I—”
“Nonsense.” She flapped a dismissive hand. “Of course you can.” She took Veronica’s free hand and squeezed. “Elizabeth would be thrilled to know it was being used to create paintings for the gallery she always dreamed of opening. Especially when those paintings are of her beloved country house in Cambridge. Andespeciallywhen they are being painted by a woman who makes her son happy.”
Veronica swallowed heavily, overcome with emotion. She traced a finger over the row of buttons on the smock. “I am not sure I am making him happy, Your Grace.”
The Dowager Duchess smiled. “My dear, the fact that Frederick was willing to involve you in his plans for the gallery tells me everything I need to know.” She squeezed Veronica’s fingers firmly. “You will take the apron. And you will put it to the good use it was intended for.”
Veronica gave her a shy smile. “What about Frederick? Will he mind me wearing it?”
The Dowager Duchess snorted. “Oh, don’t you worry about Frederick. He is all talk.” She put a hand to Veronica’s shoulder and walked her towards the door. “He cares for you very much.”
Veronica looked at her doubtfully. “Do you really think so?” She wished she felt the same confidence as the Dowager Duchess. Frederick was so capricious and changeable that when she was in his company, she could barely make sense of whether she was up or down.
Especially when he makes me feel the way he did last night…
“Oh, I do not just think so,” said the Dowager Duchess, closing the lid of the crate. “Iknowso. He is different around you. Lighter, somehow. You are good for him. Very good for him, in fact.”
“I am not sure he sees things that way.”
“Give him time, my dear,” the Dowager Duchess said gently. “He has been through a lot. And that has made him see the worst in the world around him. But I have faith that in time he will come to see the good in life again. Especially with a loving wife at his side.”
A loving wife.Was that what she was? In the first days of her marriage, Veronica had tried her very best to be an obedient, caring wife. She had not pushed back against Frederick’s cruelness—and had even prevented Gemma from flying in with her sharp tongue and tearing him to pieces. But even if she did wish to be a loving wife, it felt like an impossibility. How could she ever learn to love her husband when he seemed so determined to keep her at a distance? When he was warm and kind one minute, and turning on her like a rabid dog in the next?
For not the first time, Veronica was struck with the need to ask about Frederick’s mother—clearly the root cause of his troubled behavior. Before her wedding, she had asked her grandmother outright if she knew the circumstances of the late Duchess’s death. The Dowager Marchioness had given her nothing but vague, insubstantial answers. She had implied the Duchess had died from an illness, but Veronica was not convinced. There was something far too cagey about her response for that to be the case.
Veronica knew she could not ask her husband, as the subject was obviously the cause of much pain for him. But she could no more ask the Dowager Duchess. She had clearly cared for her daughter-in-law immensely; the Duchess’s death was obviously just as heartbreaking for her as it was for Frederick.
So Veronica once again resigned herself to her lack of knowledge. She nodded obediently at the Dowager Duchess. Perhaps Frederick would come to see the best in the world with a loving wife at his side—but that was assuming she had the capacity to be one.
ChapterSixteen
Frederick looked up from his desk as his footman appeared at the door. “Mrs. Mary Lane for you, Your Grace. Here about the gallery.”
