Page 6 of Married to a Wicked Duke
Veronica folded her arms. She knew it the most unladylike of poses, but could not bring herself to care. Right now, her only concern was self-preservation. Outside the doorway, the stairs creaked and footsteps sounded down the hallway. “Oh goodness,” she hissed. “The guests are being shown to their rooms! What are we going to do?” she asked. “No one can see us both leave this room. The scandal would be unthinkable.”
“I thought scandals were what your family thrives on,” said the Duke, without the scathing tone of his early remark about the Volks. “Two years on and everyone is still speaking of your sister and her outrageous marriage to the Duke of Larsen.”
“I am not my sister,” said Veronica. “And I have no intention of marrying under such circumstances.” She narrowed her eyes. “Especially to you.”
The Duke chuckled; a cold, derisive sound.
He was not going to help her out of this predicament—that much was painfully obvious. Veronica forced down a fresh rush of anger. Anger was not going to help her avoid a scandal. She bent down to peep through the keyhole. Several ladies and their maids were flitting up and down the hallway, along with the Brownwoods’ butler.
“We’re going to be caught,” she hissed, the panic welling up inside her.
This cannot be happening! I cannot let my family become embroiled in another scandal! Especially when it would tie me tohimof all people.
She did not care how much it would irk Juliet Carfield; there was no way in hell she was going to be forced to marry this dreadful man! Then again, even if someone did catch her in here with the Duke, he would likely flat-out refuse to marry her. He was a duke after all—he could do as he wished. And she would spend the rest of her life a ruined spinster. She shook the thought out of her head. It was too horrifying to dwell on.
“We are not going to be caught.” The Duke got to his feet. He reached into the drawer of the bedside table and produced a small brass key. He slid it into the lock and turned it. “There,” he said. “Now no one will ever find you.”
Veronica glared at him. “You could have saved us both a great deal of trouble if you had thought to lock the door in the first place.”
He looked down, towering over her. “And you could have saved us both a great deal of trouble if you had followed the directions your grandmother gave you.” He raised a pale eyebrow. “How on earth did you not see me before you threw yourself onto the bed?”
Veronica’s cheeks reddened. “I was exhausted,” she said. “I thought the room was empty. And besides…” She nodded at his dark blue Spencer jacket. “Your coat is the exact same color as the bedclothes.”
The Duke glanced over his shoulder at the bed. A smirk appeared on his face as he realized she was right. “Well,” he said. “You can relax, My Lady. No one shall be getting in here. Yourgood nameshall remain intact.”
Is that sarcasm in his voice?
Veronica clenched her hands into fists. Yes, she might be saved from the horror of being caught sneaking out of the Duke of Brownwood's bedchamber, but now she had to spend heaven knew how long locked in here with him. And that, arguably, was worse.
She sighed, rubbing her eyes. She was angry. She was frustrated. And she was absolutely, positively exhausted.
The Duke stepped aside and nodded towards the bed. “Here. Sit down. You look tired.”
Veronica eyed him distrustfully.
“I am not going to try anything. I swear it.”
“Why should I believe that?” she hissed. “You already kissed me without my permission.” She could barely get the words out. As she spoke, she could feel her cheeks flaming.
The Duke smiled wryly. “I suppose you will just have to trust me.” He reached back into the drawer and produced a deck of cards. “Do you play?”
Veronica nodded warily. And she perched on the edge of the Duke of Brownwood's bed, praying she was not making the biggest mistake of her life.
ChapterFour
Of all the ways Frederick had imagined spending his evening, this was not one of them. But if nothing else, this incarceration with Veronica Caster saved him from more mindless chatter with his flotilla of title-hunting admirers. So he supposed he ought to be somewhat grateful.
He shuffled the cards, eyeing Lady Veronica curiously. She was perched on the bed, her back pressed hard against the wooden foot, so as to keep as far away from him as possible. Her cheeks still held the lingering pinkness of her blush, and she had a faint dark smudge on her temple from where she had rubbed at her eye makeup in exhaustion. Her hands were folded tightly in her lap, and she had a closed-off expression on her face. Frederick found himself missing the look of happy surprise that had seized her when he had kissed her so impulsively.
He thought about her claim that she had not been seeking him out, but rather, had simply gotten lost in the maze of his grandmother’s country house. To his surprise, Frederick realized he believed her.
And the kiss? What in hell was that?
Though he knew himself a right bastard, Frederick hardly ever behaved in such a crass and thoughtless manner. He could hardly make sense of why he acted in such a way. Had he intended to discredit her? To punish her for the interruption by making her fear another scandal in her family? Perhaps. But he could not deny the possibility that there was more to it than that.
Because Frederick had to admit, he had enjoyed it.
In fact, he had enjoyed it very much. And now he knew just how soft and tender those plump pink lips felt beneath his own, he was finding it exceedingly difficult not to think about kissing her again.
