Page 39 of Married to a Wicked Duke
Last night had been a mistake. A sizeable one.
And yet it had been a mistake he had known he was going to make, from the moment he had started walking towards her studio. The sight of her in her nightgown, with her alluring curves on display, had made that mistake a certainty.
When he had initially asked to stay in her studio, it had been with the intention of merely watching her draw. A very naïve intention—yes, he had known that at the time, and he certainly knew it now. But there was something impossibly calming about watching Veronica work. Something that made the chaotic thoughts inside his head dissipate. He had discovered that on the day of his grandmother’s painting competition at the Brownwood country house.
But last night, the sight of her working in her nightgown had been anything but calming.
Instead of watching her pencil move across the page, he had found himself watching the way her nightgown clung to her hips as she paced across the room. Watching the rapid rise and fall of her chest, revealing both her nerves and desire. At that moment, the fact that he had found a wife who shared a passion as he did had been too much to resist.
When he had rushed back to his bedchamber in the aftermath of his… error, Frederick had been so aroused he could barely breathe, his imagination running wild with thoughts of his wife’s body moving beneath his own.
How close I was last night to breaking my every intention and taking Veronica to bed.
He was glad she was going to the school today. Glad she would be out of the house. He had correspondence from his tenants to attend to and would be holed up in his study for most of the day—work that would be nearly impossible with the knowledge that Veronica was floating around the house, tempting him with her mere presence.
On the way to his study, he made a quick detour to his bedchamber, splashing his face with cold water from the washstand and trying to shake his thoughts free of his wife.
“Are you all right, Your Grace?” asked his valet as he appeared in the doorway, watching his master’s odd behavior with a slightly bewildered expression.
“Fine.” Frederick reached for the cloth beside the basin and dried his face. “Have a strong pot of tea brought to my study.” Upon further consideration, he added, “And a glass of brandy.” It was far too early for the stuff, of course, and Frederick knew the request would raise eyebrows. But he knew his staff had better sense than to ask questions.
* * *
Carla’s eyes lingered on the door to the breakfast room her grandson had disappeared through with the urgency of a raging bull. She shook her head in frustration and turned back to Veronica. “He can be an odd lad at times. I do apologize.”
Veronica sipped her tea, keeping her eyes down. “It is quite all right.” There was a knowing look on her face; one that told Carla that the Duchess was entirely aware of why her new husband was behaving in such a strange manner this morning.
How interesting.Carla found herself peering at Veronica, trying to see behind her eyes. Much to her frustration, she had little thought of how things were progressing between the newlyweds when it came to… well, the process of securing an heir. After all, she certainly could not ask her grandson about it. Such a delicate question coming from his grandmother would cause him to clam up for days.
Before the wedding, Frederick had harped on and on to her about how Veronica Caster would be his wife in name only and blah, blah, blah… Carla had just nodded along, letting her grandson get his rant out of his system.
Frederick could blather away all he wanted, but he was human after all. And Veronica was a beauty. A gentle, understated beauty, with her long dark hair and soft curves, but a beauty, nonetheless. Carla knew there had been sparks between them in Cambridge. Was that not why she had Pippa had so carefully engineered their marriage in the first place? She would not have done so if she had not believed the two of them could be happy together.
Oh, she was just bursting to know if something had happened last night. She would never get anything out of Frederick, of course. Even if anything had taken place between them, Carla knew he would never admit to it. The stubborn mule would probably still claim he had a marriage in name only when they had six children in tow and his wife was heavy with the seventh.
But Veronica, well, that was a possibility. Perhaps she would not be averse to a little grandmotherly prying. Especially now they were alone…
Carla sipped her tea and peered at her granddaughter-in-law over the top of her teacup. Veronica was spreading marmalade on her toast with a level of concentration that really did not seem necessary. “I do hope he has been treating you well, my dear,” said Carla.
Veronica’s expression was unreadable. She set her knife back down on her plate. After a moment of silence that was slightly too long, she said, “Yes, Your Grace. He has been treating me well.”
She was not lying, Carla could tell. There was a warmth to her voice, a genuineness. But that faint frown creasing the bridge of her nose proved there was definitely something on her mind.
“I am glad to hear it,” she said. “I know the marriage was something of a shock to the both of you. And I am sure it will take some time to get used to each other. But I know you have the potential to be very happy together.”
Veronica smiled. “I do hope you’re right.”
Carla decided to dive into the conversation head first. “And have the two of you—”
“Frederick told me about his plans for the gallery,” Veronica cut in, clearly sensing the awkward turn in the conversation from a mile away. “He has asked me to assist him with his work.”
Carla raised her eyebrows. “Has he now?”
She smiled to herself. Even if the two of them had not yet consummated their marriage, this unexpected turn of events was possibly even more exciting. Stubborn, solitary Frederick sharing his plans for his precious gallery with his wife… Carla had not expected this.
“I have been assisting him in choosing which artists to commission,” Veronica continued. “And he has kindly invited me to exhibit some of my own work.” She smiled shyly at Carla. “I thought to create a collection inspired by the garden at your country house in Cambridge.”
Carla smiled warmly, reaching over to press a hand to Veronica’s wrist. “Ourcountry house, my dear. You are part of the family now. It is much yours as it is mine.”
