Page 55 of Married to a Wicked Duke
Frederick swallowed down a fresh wave of emotion.
Veronica looked at him pleadingly. “Please do not push me away.”
He closed his eyes. She was right of course, at least in part. He had never intended to share his mother’s story with Veronica, lest she find out how broken and useless he really was. But he could not deny that speaking the truth had made the weight on his shoulders a little easier to carry. And the fact that she did not think any less of him… He could not deny there was a part of him that had been fearful of that happening.
He nodded faintly. Bent to pick up her bonnet, which had fallen to the floor beside the couch. He handed it to her and offered her his arm. “Let’s go home. The carriage is waiting.”
Veronica gave him a soft smile. Her narrow fingers curled around his elbow, bringing Frederick an unexpected feeling of comfort. “Thank you,” she murmured.
Frederick locked up the gallery, then led her out into the street, and helped her into the waiting coach. It was not until they were halfway down The Strand that he realized he had done all of that without uttering a single word. Veronica was sitting opposite him, not prying, not prodding, but looking at him with a very expectant look in her eyes. Clearly, she had questions. Questions about where they were to go to now that he had broken every rule he had set out for himself when he had made her his wife.
They were questions that would not be easy to answer—largely because he could barely make sense of the chaos of emotions that were roiling around inside him right now. But Frederick knew this silence would only get more uncomfortable the longer he let it fester.
“Veronica,” he began carefully, folding, then unfolding his hands, “I’m sorry. I should not have let things go so far.” His voice came out strained and stilted.
Veronica tilted her head, as though trying to see behind his eyes. “Is that truly what you believe?” she asked.
Frederick blinked, caught off guard by her response. “I…”
“Can you truly regret what happened?” she asked. “When it felt so…” her cheeks flushed endearingly, “well, sowonderful?”
Her words brought a faint smile to Frederick’s lips. In spite of himself, and all he was trying to splutter out right now, the fact that Veronica had called their unionwonderfulmade him feel more than a little pleased with himself. Then again, had he ever really doubted such a thing? Her uninhibited moans had left little doubt about how much she had enjoyed being with him.
Somehow, that made this situation even more impossible.
“I only regret it because I am afraid of hurting you,” he admitted. “I can never be the kind of husband you wish for, Veronica. I can never give you love. I am just not that kind of man.” He smiled wryly. “Truly, I do not think I am even capable of such things anymore.”
Something almost imperceptible passed across Veronica’s eyes, but she blinked it away quickly. “I understand,” she said. “And I am grateful for your honesty.” She swallowed visibly and folded her hands neatly in her lap. “I hope what happened between us will not affect our working together on the gallery.”
“No,” Frederick said quickly. “Never.”
Veronica gave him a small smile. “Good.” She opened her mouth to speak again, then seemed to change her mind. He could tell she still had more questions for him. Questions over where they went from here, perhaps. Over whether he would visit her bedchamber. Whether he planned to try for an heir, now they had successfully—perhaps a littletoosuccessfully, Frederick had to admit—consummated their marriage.
Even if he wanted to, Frederick knew he could not discuss his feelings with Veronica, because he could barely make sense of them himself.A marriage in name only—how spectacularly he had failed in that. Then he had promised himself that these covert visits to Veronica’s bedchamber were nothing but meaningless dalliances. But now… well he could hardly claim it meant nothing when he had just made her his wife in far more than name. And all he could think about was how much he wanted to do it again.
Despite his every attempt to make it otherwise, Frederick knew Veronica had managed to get beneath his skin—and creep dangerously close to his heart.
* * *
Veronica shook her head with a smile as she surveyed the classroom. The students had all filed out of the school—or rather, charged out like a pack of hungry wildebeests—for the end of the day, leaving evidence of their artistic enthusiasm in their wake.
The classroom was in a fresh kind of chaos, with paper strewn across the desks and floor, lids put haphazardly back on the pots of paint, and pencils still strewn out across the table. Jars of murky water sat on the desks, with paint brushes sticking out of them. One had been overturned in the children’s charge out the door, and water was pooling steadily beneath a desk at the back of the room.
Mary, one of the young teachers at the school, poked her head inside the classroom. “Oh dear,” she said with a smile, “it seems your little artists have left their mark on the place.”
Veronica laughed, tucking stray strands of hair back into her bun. She felt almost as untidy and frazzled as the classroom looked. “They have indeed. They are fast learners when it comes to drawing, but I am afraid they still have much to learn about cleaning up.”
Mary smiled. “Just have to be firm with them, Your Grace. Strict instructions, given one step at a time. And do not let them even think about lifting their backsides from their chairs until they have done everything you ask.” She shook her head with a smile. “Sometimes it is the only way they will learn.”
“I shall try that, Mary. Thank you.” Veronica bent to collect a few sheets of paper from the floor. “I feel as though I am still learning, just as they are.”
“You are doing a fine job, My Lady,” Mary said. “Whenever they children come out of your art classes, they are always filled with enthusiasm. All they can talk about is what they were painting today, and when they will get to see you again.” She laughed. “It is something of a challenge to get them to focus on arithmetic afterwards.”
Veronica smiled. “I am glad to hear that. At least, I glad they are enthusiastic.” She gave her apologetic eyes. “I am sorry they are a handful for you.”
Mary waved her concerns away. “Let me clean all this for you, Your Grace. You can hardly be expected to do such a thing. We could never ask that of you.”
“Oh no,” Veronica said quickly, a flush of embarrassment coloring her cheeks. “Not at all. I am more than happy to do it myself.”
