Page 45 of Married to a Wicked Duke
“I was able to paint the mural at the school,” Veronica continued, “but I want to do more. If I teach these children art, they will have skills they can take with them and use throughout their lives. Perhaps they can one day teach art themselves or use it as an avenue to process their emotions. Perhaps one day their work will even be hanging in your gallery.”
“Ourgallery,” Frederick corrected her.
Veronica stopped pacing. “Yes. Our gallery.” She took a step closer to him. “What do you think? Is it a foolish idea?”
“Far from it.” Frederick reached for her hands and gave them a firm squeeze. “I cannot imagine anyone better for such a job.”
ChapterEighteen
It had been more than a week since Veronica had last seen her father, and that made her feel horribly guilty.
I promised him I would take care of him, even after I was married.
And yet, she had been so caught up in the gallery and the orphan school, and in… well, Frederick, that it had barely crossed her mind to visit Volk House.
She set off for her childhood home after breakfast, eager to see her father—and also eager not to spend the day around her husband, given all that had passed between them yesterday afternoon.
Just as he had after their dalliance in her studio, Frederick had spent the rest of yesterday pretending nothing had happened between them. At dinner last night, he had let his grandmother rattle on about her plans for her latest salon for most of the meal and had barely looked in Veronica’s direction. He had been virtually silent at breakfast this morning—and painfully deliberate in avoiding her eyes.
Veronica could not deny his coldness stung. There was a small part of her that would have preferred Frederick to have kept his word when he had claimed they would be married in nothing more than name. Because of this changeability, this indecisiveness, this intense pleasure followed by icy silence, it was far too difficult to navigate.
But Veronica knew there was little point denying—either to him or herself—how much she had enjoyed her husband’s attentions. Nonetheless, she did not know if she had the strength to continue being on the receiving end of Frederick’s fickle affections. She had always wanted a husband who would love her, and while, in her most logical of minds, she knew that would never be Frederick, there were times when he was kissing her, holding her, bringing her pleasure, when such a thing seemed almost possible.
No, you cannot allow yourself to think such things, even for a second.
Frederick had made it more than clear that he did not want a wife, and that he had no intention of loving her.
She looked out the window, focusing on the familiar streets around Volk House as the carriage rattled onward. She was looking forward to visiting her old home. Looking forward to seeing her grandmother and younger sister again. Looking forward to dragging her father out into the daylight and telling him all about her new life.
As the coach rolled through the wrought iron gates of Volk House, Veronica could not help but think of how different the place was to her new home. Compared to the pristine white walls and polished marble of Brownwood Manor, Volk House was impossibly run down, with an overgrown garden and peeling paint on the outside walls and front door. Just a handful of servants in her father’s employ, compared to the small army running around at Brownwood Manor. Veronica had always known, of course, that her childhood home was no palace, but coming from such a fine house made the comparison that much starker.
But run down or not, Volk House was home, and Veronica felt a warmth in her chest as she stepped into the foyer. Before the butler could even announce her arrival, Jane rushed down the stairs and threw herself into Veronica’s arms.
“Veronica! I am so pleased to see you.” She stepped back, squeezing her older sister’s hands. “Why did you not tell me you were coming?”
Veronica smiled. “I wished to surprise you.”
Plus, the need to escape her capricious husband this morning had been too urgent to bother sending word of her arrival, but Jane did not need to know that.
“Is Grandmother here?” asked Veronica. “And Papa?”
“Grandmother is out with the dog,” Jane told her. “I am sure she will be back soon. And Papa…” Something passed across her eyes that made the muscles in Veronica’s neck tighten.
“Jane? What is it?”
Her sister sighed. “Perhaps we ought to sit down. So we can speak somewhere in private.”
Veronica’s dread intensified. She nodded silently and followed her sister into the parlor. Jane perched on the settle and tugged Veronica down to sit beside her.
“What has happened?” Veronica pressed. “Is Papa unwell?”
Jane looked down, a strand of dark hair falling over her eyes. “Not as such. But… I am afraid he has been gambling again.”
“Gambling?” Veronica repeated. “But how? Where? He has been banned from all the clubs in London. It was the best thing that ever happened to him.”
Jane nodded sadly. “I know. But it seems he has made some acquaintances. Unsavory acquaintances. Apparently, they have connections to underground clubs across the city. It seems Father has been frequenting them for some time.”
Veronica closed her eyes, overcome with disappointment. Foolishly, she had begun to believe her father was changing for the better.
