Page 48 of Married to a Wicked Duke
Surely Veronica had not said anything to him. She was so shy and innocent when it came to such matters, she could barely speak of them without her face flaming scarlet and her words disappearing into nothingness.
Perhaps it was his own behavior that had given him away. Perhaps that weight that Veronica lifted from his shoulders was visible to his grandmother as well.
“Thank you, Grandmother,” he managed. He put his head down and headed for the parlor.
Veronica stood up from the settle as he stepped inside. Frederick let out his breath at the sight of her, taken aback by her beauty. He had seen Veronica dressed up before, of course; at their wedding she had been a vision of loveliness in delicate and girlish pale pink silk. But tonight, dressed in an elegant dark blue gown, with her dark hair swept up high on her head and a thin line of pearls at her throat, she looked sophisticated, mature. She looked like a duchess.
HisDuchess.
Frederick shook his head, trying to chase the troublesome thoughts away. He was going to have to learn to keep his attraction to Veronica under control, or else… Or else there was a high chance they would not make it anywhere tonight, other than straight upstairs to his bedchamber.
Nonetheless, he said, “You look lovely.” It was a ridiculous understatement. At his instruction, Veronica had paid a visit to the seamstress to acquire the new wardrobe befitting her title, but he had not expected the results to be quite so… dazzling.
“Thank you.” Veronica did not return his smile. She clasped her hands together and lowered her eyes. “But I have been thinking things over, Frederick. And I think perhaps it is best if I do not attend tonight.”
Frederick frowned. “Why on earth would you think that? You are my wife. Not to mention the artist of that wonderful mural.”
Veronica sighed. “I take it you have not read the gossip pages lately?”
“Of course not. You know I never go near such things.”
She nodded faintly. “And I am glad. But I am afraid there are few others in our society that have your good sense.”
Frederick put a gentle hand to her shoulder, leading her back to the settle. She perched on the edge of the settle and he sat down beside her. “Veronica. Has something happened?”
“My father,” she said sadly. She knotted her hands together and began twisting her wedding ring around her finger. “He has been out gambling again. He was caught trying to sneak back into White’s, even though they have banned him from entering on account of his violent behavior.”
“I see.”
Veronica looked up at him, her eyes glistening. “I’m so sorry,” she gushed. “I know talk of it will be all over the city by now. It is going to take the focus away from the opening of the school tonight. And that will only be made worse if I am there. Everyone will see me, and they will think of my father and—”
“Veronica.” Frederick put a hand to her wrist. “Stop. It is all right.” He squeezed gently, feeling energy pulse through him at the feel of her skin against his. “I do not care about any of that.” He felt an old anger rearing up inside him. Anger at theton’s petty games. At the way they needed gossip like others needed air. He was disappointed at Veronica’s news, yes. But his disappointment came from the knowledge that the Earl of Volk had let himself slide back down this troublesome path again; and that he had hurt his daughter in the process. Whatever the rest of thetonhad to say about it, he could not care less.
“Whatever those petty gossips think, it does not matter,” he told Veronica firmly. “I want you there.” He looked her squarely in the eyes. “You are my wife.”
Veronica drew in a long breath. “Yes. I am. And I know it is my duty to be there. I’m sorry. I should not have suggested otherwise.”
Frederick nodded stiffly.Yes, a duty.
And it was best he leave it at that.
* * *
The school building was already bustling with people by the time Veronica and Frederick arrived. The guests had gathered in the classroom in which Veronica had painted the mural, and as they stepped inside, she could see many people clustered around the colorful wall, admiring her handiwork. She allowed herself a faint smile. Perhaps the guests here tonight would be more interested in her painting ability than in her father’s drunken antics.
Or perhaps that is just wishful thinking.
“Ah, Your Graces. I am so glad you could make it.” Veronica recognized the man charging toward them as the Marquess of Bedford, another investor and the instigator of the project. He shook Frederick’s hand and placed a kiss on Veronica’s knuckles. He nodded towards the mural. “I have heard nothing but good things about your work, Your Grace. It has made such a difference to the place. I know the students will adore it.”
Veronica smiled shyly. “Thank you.” Her eyes darted around the room, inspecting the crowd. She was relieved to find the gathering was relatively small, with few peers in attendance, beyond those who had contributed financially to the school. Across the room, Veronica caught sight of her sister, standing beside her husband. Gemma caught her eye and gave her a pale smile.
Veronica had not had a chance to speak with her older sister since she had heard about their father’s latest transgression, but the stoic look on Gemma’s face left Veronica in no doubt that she knew all about it. There was a weariness there, a sense of frustrated resignation. Veronica knew this was far from the first time Gemma had had to face her duties in the shadows of their father’s misbehavior.
“Just do your best,”her eyes seemed to say.“Just hold your head high and do as best you can.”
Veronica gave Gemma a faint nod, to let her know her wordless message had been received.
Gemma is lucky. She has a husband who loves her, and supports her unconditionally, no matter what our father does.
