Page 46 of Married to a Wicked Duke
“Last night,” Jane continued, “they tried to sneak Father into Whites. As you can imagine, they did not succeed. I could not get much of the story out of him, but he arrived back at the house mad with drink last night, raving about the unfairness of it all. I am sure he would have made some dreadful scene. No doubt the press has caught wind of it all by now.”
Veronica shook her head. It had been two years since her father had been at the gambling tables—at least, that was what she believed. Veronica saw now that she had been hopelessly naïve. How long had he had theseunsavory acquaintances?How long had he been sneaking into underground clubs behind everybody’s back? The betrayal stung.
“I truly thought he was beginning to change,” she said.
Jane nodded sadly. “As did I.”
Veronica felt a sudden dread pressing down on her. “The opening of the school,” she murmured.
“What?”
She sighed. “The orphan school that Gemma and I have been helping with. The one our husbands are funding. There is a celebration to mark the opening in two days’ time.”
“And Father has caused a scene just in time for the opening.”
Veronica nodded. She knew how much thetonloved to gossip about the wayward Earl of Volk, and this particularly sordid piece of news was just bound to cause a stir. A big enough stir to take the focus off the opening off the school, and all the fine work Frederick and Wyatt had done.
Suddenly, Veronica found herself filled with the same hot rage she had been yesterday when Frederick had spoken so cruelly to her. How could her father do this to them? She had always defended him against her grandmother; had always protested when the Dowager Marchioness claimed the Earl cared little for his daughters’ wellbeing. But now Veronica began to wonder if her grandmother was right. It was beginning to seem as though her father would never change.
Where would we be if it weren’t for Grandmother looking out for us?It was too horrible to think about.
“I assume Father is still upstairs in bed?” she asked Jane.
“Yes. You know how he is. He’ll likely not show himself until noon at least.”
Veronica stood. “I am going to see him.”
“Are you sure?” Jane asked tentatively. “You know he hates being woken up after he has been out. He will be furious at you.”
“I do not care. I need to speak with him. Right now.”
A faint smile of surprise flickered on Jane’s lips. “You are going to tell him off?”
“Yes,” Veronica said firmly. “I am.” Never in her life had she dared to do such a thing. She had always believed it was a daughter’s place to never argue with her father—no matter what he did. But her argument with Frederick yesterday had awoken something within her. Yesterday, she had stood up to her husband, and she had gotten what she wanted—well, in truth she had gotten far more than she had anticipated, but she was not going to focus on that right now. Her father had let his family down more times than Veronica could count—and she was not about to let him get away with it.
She marched out of the parlor and up the stairs before she could change her mind. She rapped loudly on her father’s door but charged inside without waiting for a response. The Earl was sprawled out on his back, one leg out of the blankets and an arm splayed across the pillow. He reeked of old liquor and cigar smoke.
Veronica shook his arm roughly, shaking him from sleep. “Wake up, Father.”
“What…” The Earl squinted in the pale sunlight, clearly disoriented, then his eyes alighted on Veronica. “Sunshine… what in hell are you—”
“How could you?” Veronica demanded.
The Earl blinked, clearly taken aback by her uncharacteristic sharpness. He rubbed his eyes and tried to sit. “I…”
“You promised you were done with the gambling halls,” Veronica said, feeling herself growing hot and jittery with the conflict. She forced herself to plow on. “How could you do this to us?”
The Earl sighed, turning his head on the grimy pillow. “I’m sorry, Sunshine. I am a weak man.” He looked old and exhausted, the pale thread of sunlight shining through the gaps in the curtains highlighting the deep wrinkles on his face. His overgrown gray hair looked limp and oily, his eyes red and sunken. He reached for the glass of water on his bedside table, his fingers not quite reaching it. Veronica handed it to him and he gulped the contents down hurriedly.
“You are a weak man,” Veronica agreed. “But I also believed you to be a good man. I thought that under all that weakness, you truly did care about us.”
Something passed across the Earl’s eyes and Veronica could tell her words had struck a nerve. She knew Mark Caster had heard such ranting from the Dowager Marchioness many times over, and even from Gemma on several occasions. But Veronica had never dared to speak a word out of place to him before. Her scolding was clearly making an impact.
The Earl set the cup clumsily back on the bedside table and reached for Veronica’s hand. She pulled away quickly.
“I do care about you, Sunshine,” he said huskily. “I care about you more than anything.”
Veronica shook her head. “I am sorry, Father. But you cannot claim that is the case when you continue to behave the way you do.” She felt tears welling behind her eyes. Determined not to let them spill, she turned and strode out of her father’s bedchamber, closing the door firmly behind her.
