Page 66 of Married to a Wicked Duke
Veronica gave the Dowager Duchess a strained smile. “I do hope you will like it. The artists we have chosen to exhibit are wonderfully talented.”
“I am sure I will simply love it, my dear,” the Dowager Duchess gushed. “And I am sure everyone else will too.”
“People are not supposed toloveit, Grandmother,” Frederick said tautly. “We have chosen a number of pieces that push the boundaries of modern art. They are bound to elicit a number of different reactions. We want to encourage discussion, not blind love for the place.”
The Dowager Duchess snorted, shaking her head in frustration at her grandson’s saltiness. “Fine,” she huffed. “Then I am sure everyone will beencouraged into discussion.” She patted Veronica’s wrist, her bright smile returning. “I happen to know that Frederick has a surprise for you today, Veronica.” She looked pointedly at her grandson. “Is that not right, my dear?”
Frederick turned their way, managing to make eye contact with his wife for an entire tenth of a second. “Yes. That’s correct.”
“How lovely. I do like surprises.” But Veronica could hear the strain in her words. She felt quite certain that the surprise the Dowager Duchess was hinting at was the portrait of her she had tried to catch Frederick painting. Thoughts of it took her mind back to that dizzying night when they had ended up painting each other instead. How was it possible that the warmth and laughter they had shared that night had turned into this cold and awkward carriage ride?
At the back of her mind, Veronica knew the answer.
A week ago, when she had shown Frederick her paintings, he had been about to tell her he loved her.
She knew that knowledge ought to bring her joy. Never in her wildest of dreams had she ever dared to imagine Frederick might actually fall in love with her. But right now, she felt anything but joy. Love was supposed to be a blissful, happy thing. It was not supposed to be feared.
Loving his wife should not turn a man into this closed-up and silent creature.
Veronica was glad when the carriage ground to a halt in front of the gallery. She would have to spend the entire day in Frederick’s company, yes—and make it look to their guests as though nothing was wrong—but at least she would have an entire art gallery to do it in, rather than being squashed into a carriage and forced to look at the pinched expression on his face.
The gallery was already bustling with activity. Mrs. Holloway and several of the maids and footmen had been sent on ahead to prepare the drinks and buffet tables for the guests. Veronica could hear the housekeeper barking out orders to her staff in her firm but friendly manner.
Her eyes alighted on an easel that stood in the middle of the main gallery, where the presentation and speeches would take place later that afternoon. It contained what appeared to be a large framed painting, hidden behind a cloth.
Was it Frederick’s portrait, Veronica wondered?
She hated that the thought of it did not fill her with as much joy as it had a few weeks ago.
“I am going to do a final walk through the gallery,” Frederick said, appearing at her side. His hands were folded behind his back, and his eyes were down, neatly avoiding hers. “Perhaps you could stay here by the entrance to welcome any guests who arrive early.”
Veronica forced a smile. “Of course. As you wish.”
Frederick gave her a brusque nod, then disappeared up the stairs. Veronica watched after him with gritted teeth.
She was determined not to let her surly husband ruin this day, yes. But she had the distinct feeling that that was going to be much harder than she had initially anticipated.
* * *
“Oh Veronica, this place looks wonderful,” Jane sang. She was walking arm in arm with her sister, lingering in front of Veronica’s five paintings with a broad smile on her face. She looked over her shoulder at their father. “Papa, aren’t Veronica’s paintings beautiful?”
“Stunning,” said the Earl, enunciating the word carefully. “Simplystunning. In fact, this whole place is simplystunning.”
“All right, Father,” Veronica heard Gemma murmur from behind them.
She looked back at the Earl. “Thank you, Papa. I’m pleased you like them.”
“I am just so proud of you,” Jane gushed. She tilted her head, taking in Veronica’s depictions of the wild garden at the Brownwood country house. “Look at all this fine detail. How do you evendothat?” She shook her head with a smile. “Whoever would have thought it? My big sister’s work on display in an actual gallery.”
“And not just any gallery,” Gemma put in. “A gallery that she owns and runs.”
Veronica smiled at her. “Well. Not on my own, of course.”
The Dowager Marchioness appeared on Veronica’s other side and gave her hand a squeeze. “And that, my dear, is possibly what you ought to be most proud of. The fact that you brought your husband out of his shell enough to want to share such a thing with you.” She smiled. “I know Frederick well. And I know he is not an easy man to share your life with.”
Veronica looked at her pointedly. “And yet you saw fit to marry me to him anyway?”
The Dowager Marchioness chuckled. “Would you rather I had not done so, my dear?”
