Page 19 of The Duke Who Dared Me
CHAPTER4
If proximity breeds contempt, and contempt masks desire, then what should one make of a rumor concerning a certain spirited lady and duke locked in a linen closet?
- The Polite Observer
Verity’s staysfelt impossibly tight as the circle of matrons pressed closer, their voices rising above the din of pre-dinner conversation.“A woman your age cannot afford to be particular,” Lady Quinlan declared, adjusting her silk gloves with authority.“You need a husband, my dear, and children.Nothing else will bring you true happiness.”
“Indeed,” Lady Dagnell nodded sagely.“The joy of motherhood is a woman’s greatest blessing.You simply cannot find fulfillment otherwise.”She leaned forward, lowering her voice conspiratorially.“Lord Brookhouse may turn your head with his charm, but what you need is a respectable gentleman who will see you settled properly.He’s fickle, and I’ve heard murmurs that his debts are not being settled.”
Verity forced a polite smile, her gloved hands clasped so tightly her knuckles ached.She could hardly breathe, and the blasted clock must be broken because each minute felt like an eternity.
Her gaze drifted helplessly toward the far corner of the room, where Alistair moved through yet another turn about the floor with Lady Clara.The woman’s devoted smile never seemed to falter.
“I suspect we’ll hear news of an engagement soon,” Lady Quinlan said in a hushed whisper.“They are a perfect match.”
The sight made her stomach clench with something she refused to name.
“The duke seems preoccupied this evening, don’t you think?”Lady Dagnell added.“You might still have a chance yet, dear, to best him.”
For the rest of society, their wager seemed to be a silly game.And maybe it had started that way for Verity, but after kissing Alistair, everything had turned upside down for her.
She nodded along as the two older women spoke and giggled, hiding behind their fans to gossip and make light of Verity’s marriage prospects as if she weren’t there beside them.
For all their advice, no one had ever asked what she wanted from life.
“Please excuse me,” she said, forcing a smile and finally slipping away.
Verity rushed out into the hallway, deciding to follow a maid down into the west wing of the large home.She needed to breathe.A break.If she was allowed a moment to gather her peace, she could return with a smile and laugh and play cards and pretend as if her life wasn’t falling to pieces.
She walked quickly, her worn silk slippers scuffing against the polished floor, until she found herself in the dimly lit corridor near the library, where the sounds of conversation were thankfully distant.The flickering candlelight from the wall sconces cast shadows between the doorways, making it difficult to distinguish one entrance from another.
Spotting what she assumed was a sitting room, she slipped inside.But instead of a settee, she found herself surrounded by the musty smell of wool coats and leather trunks.
A storage closet.Perfect.
At least it offered a chance at solitude, even if it wasn't quite what she’d intended.She sagged back against the stack of storage, finally allowing her shoulders to drop.
“Verity?”
The voice came from the shadows, deep and unmistakably male.
She spun.“Oh, for….”
Alistair was pressed back in the opposite corner of the small closet, his cravat slightly crooked.
“What are you doing here?”she demanded.She’d spent the better part of two weeks avoiding him.She was furious her streak would be over after this encounter.
“I saw you leave the drawing room suddenly.”His voice was carefully measured, but she caught the underlying concern.The irritating scoundrel.
“So you hid in a closet?”
“I was looking for you.I wanted to make sure you were all right.”
The admission made her stomach flutter with panic.Since when did he care for her well-being?
“I’m perfectly fine.”Her voice came out higher than intended.When he didn’t say anything, she continued, “I didn’t want to be interrogated any further.Lady Quinlan was asking if I would consider a call from Mr.Forsythe again.Apparently she thinks his preoccupation with embroidering pillows for his cats will subside if he can find a wife.”
“Or he would expect you to join him?”
