Page 8 of Married to a Wicked Duke
Veronica sighed, nodding. “You are right. Unfortunately.” After a moment, she said, “I’m famished. And utterly exhausted.”
Frederick felt an unexpected wave of empathy. “I can have something to eat brought up for you later,” he said. “And if you wish to sleep…” He gestured towards the bed they were sitting in.
Veronica’s eyes widened. “No!” she cried, horrified, as though he had just asked her to become his mistress and live chained up in his dungeon. “You already sought to scandalize me once today, Your Grace. I have no intention of closing my eyes in your presence.”
“I promise I will be a perfect gentleman.”
Veronica snorted. “I’m quite sure you have no idea how to do such a thing.”
Frederick chuckled. But then he met her eyes. “Please, Lady Veronica. You really do look exhausted. I am sure this is the last place you wish to be, but you are welcome to close your eyes for a few moments. Once dinner is over and everyone has gone to their rooms, I will fetch some food for us and get you safely back to your bedchamber.”
“You would do that for me?”
He snorted. “Of course. I may be ill-mannered, but I have no intention of letting you starve.”
Veronica hesitated. Frederick could practically see the thoughts whirring behind her weary eyes. He nodded to the armchair in the corner of the room. “I will stay all the way over there. I promise.”
Veronica let out a breath. “All right,” she agreed. “But just for a few moments.” She picked up the brandy glass and took another mouthful, as though steeling herself in the wake of her decision. She kicked off her shoes as Frederick stood up. Shuffled up towards the pillow and rolled onto her side, her back to him.
Frederick made his way to the window and pulled the curtains closed, blocking the last of the evening light. Then he sank into the armchair. Found his eyes fixed on the intriguing figure in his bed. She lay atop the blankets, still fully dressed in her simple pale blue gown, dark hair fanning out beneath her head, and the discarded playing cards sprawled out beside her hip. There was something calming about the gentle rise and fall of her shoulder as she lay there, already close to sleep. Something about her that made it all too easy for his own eyes to close and sleep to fall over him.
* * *
Veronica opened her eyes to a bright spear of sunlight shafting through the gap in the curtains. Something was amiss. This was not her home in London. And how—andwhy?—had she fallen asleep still dressed in her gown and stays?
At once, the recollections swung at her. The Duke of Brownwood. The wrong room.
The kiss…
The memory made Veronica’s cheeks heat and she sat bolt upright in bed. On the other side of the room, the Duke was slumped in an armchair, breathing deeply in sleep. His head lolled to the side, his fair hair slightly rumpled and hanging over one eye. In sleep, with none of those heartless words spewing from his lips, Veronica had to admit that Lady Arabella and the others were right. He was devastatingly handsome, with a chiseled jaw and sharp Grecian nose, his thick brows arched and just slightly darker than the hair on his head.
The Duke had promised Veronica he would wake her when it was safe for her to return to her room. No doubt he had fallen asleep himself before he had managed to do so. She looked over at the half-empty brandy bottle on the side table beside the bed.
That explains a few things…
She rubbed her eyes, a sense of dread creeping up on her. Avoiding a scandal had just become even harder, now she had spent the whole damn night in the Duke of Brownwood's bedchamber.
Silently, she got to her feet, tiptoeing around the bed so as not to wake the Duke. She could only imagine how damn unpleasant he would be if woken from a deep sleep. Well. Once she got out of this cursed room, she could cut all ties with him. She had no intention of going near the Duke of Brownwood ever again.
She took the key out of the keyhole and peeked out into the passage. Empty. Veronica sent up a silent prayer of thanks. She slid the key back in the lock and opened the door. Slipped out into the hallway, letting out a breath she had not realized she was holding.
She stared down the passage at the row of identical polished wood doors. And she stopped in horror.
Which of these rooms is mine?
She churned through her thoughts, trying desperately to remember the directions her grandmother had given her.Second door on the right, perhaps?Well, she had mistakenly taken the second door on the left, so perhaps the right… She knew there was every chance her confusion might lead her to barge into yet another stranger’s bedchamber, but what other choice did she have? She could hardly stand about here in the hallway with her shoes in her hand, waiting for someone to appear and ask questions.
She hurried down the passage to the second door to the right of the stairs. Just as she bent to peek through the keyhole, the door swung open and her lady’s maid Sarah appeared. Veronica almost threw her arms around her, she was so glad to see her.
She hurried into the room, pushing the door shut behind her. Sarah put down the water jug she had clearly just been on her way to refill. A knowing smile spread across her face.
“Well, good morning, My Lady.” Sarah’s brown eyes glittered.
Veronica cringed. “Please, Sarah,” she begged, “you cannot tell anyone what you just saw. Nothing happened, I swear it. I just… I went to the wrong room. And then…” She faded out, aware that the more she talked, the deeper the hole she was digging herself into. “Please,” she said again. “Not a word to anyone.”
To her relief, an empathetic smile spread across her maid’s young face. “I swear it, My Lady.” She grinned. “I did not see a thing.” She picked up the water jug again. “Now. I shall go and fetch you some fresh water. And then what say we get you dressed for breakfast? That gown is dreadfully crinkled…”
Veronica made her way down to breakfast, her heart thumping with dread. Did anyone know where she had been last night? Had anyone besides Sarah seen her scurrying desperately down the hall this morning? The thought was unbearable.
