Chapter 3
Chapter Three
“You did not tell me about the dog,” the Duke said, pointing down to the floor, where Trinket had sat right on his boots.
It had neared mid-afternoon by the time Archie returned home and skipped into the parlor, Trinket having already bounded into the room when Verity had called to him.
Behind him, Miss Grimsby, his governess, had a fond smile on her face as he hurried to Verity’s side.
“Verity! Verity! You will not believe what I found by the canal!” he cried. “A frog! A real frog! And I tried to catch it, but it hopped… away.” His words slowed when he spotted the Duke, who was still sitting in the same armchair as earlier.
Verity had changed into a simple, yellow day dress, and the Duke looked as though he had not moved a muscle. Neither had her uncle, actually.
“Who are you?” Archie asked.
His light hair was ruffled by the wind, the tight curls he got from his mother making him look cherubic. Though in reality, he was far more mischievous.
The Duke’s eyes flicked to Verity, and she nodded. Then, he returned his careful watch of the St. Bernard at his feet.
“Archie,” Verity said, “this is the Duke of Whitestone.”
“Does the Duke of Whitestone not like Trinket?” Archie frowned, looking between the Duke and his dog. “He’s very nice, I promise!” He sat at Trinket’s side and scratched behind his ears. “See?”
Right as Archie beamed up at the Duke, Trinket licked the Duke’s hand with a loud, wet noise.
“I am sure,” the Duke muttered, wiping his hand on his coat with clear disdain. “Regardless, Lady Verity, you did not tell me there would be a hound coming with you.”
“I did not really get the chance—”
“Where are you taking Trinket?” Archie demanded, standing to his feet. He looked at Verity, wide-eyed. “Are you leaving?”
“We are,” she corrected, crouching down to his height. “I’m going to marry the Duke of Whitestone, Archie, and you are going to come with me to his home.”
Archie’s eyes widened even further, before he spun to face the Duke. “Does it have a garden? Trinket will not like it if there is no garden.”
“There is a garden,” the Duke answered, his voice softening a little.
He still looked wary of Trinket though, arching an eyebrow when the dog tried to nuzzle his leg.
“How old are you, Your Grace?” Archie frowned.
Verity realized he was staring openly at the Duke’s hair.
“Archie, that is a rude question,” she chided, keeping her voice gentle.
“Yes, but he has gray hair! My grandfather had gray hair and a gray beard, and he was very old. Verity, you cannot marry an old man like Grandpapa!”
“Archie,” Verity gasped, reaching out to tug her little brother away from the Duke, an apology ready on the tip of her tongue.
The Duke held up a hand to stop her, shaking his head. “It is fine,” he assured, before looking at her brother. “I am one-and-thirty, Lord Archibald.”
Archie frowned even deeper. “Wow. You are really old.”
Now the Duke frowned back, a subtle thing that he smoothed quickly, but Verity had noticed it.
“I am sorry,” she offered, stepping forward. “He hasn’t gotten the chance to socialize properly yet.”
The Duke only nodded once before standing to his feet. He looked at the housekeeper, Mrs. Newman, who was standing in the doorway, waiting. “Do load my carriage with Lady Verity’s and Lord Archibald’s belongings.”
He then turned back to Verity, before scowling down at Trinket.
“We will not all fit into the carriage if the dog comes, too. He is too big. So I will follow you to my townhouse shortly. Once you are there, you will be greeted by my housekeeper. I have already sent word ahead to let her know of your arrival.”
“Trinket is not that big,” Archie protested. “He can sit on my lap!”
“That is not necessary,” the Duke responded quickly, then looked back at Verity. “As I said, I will follow you shortly.”
Verity thought that his insistence had something to do with one last conversation with her uncle, so she nodded and pulled Archie to her side. In response, Trinket also moved, following Archie loyally.
The Duke turned to her uncle. “You will come nowhere near either Lady Verity or Lord Archibald without me being present. Even then, you will be testing my leniency.”
“We are leaving Uncle John?” Archie whispered, quiet enough that their uncle only glanced towards them, as if he had missed the question but understood it was about himself.
Verity nodded, biting her lip.
“All right. I do not really like him that much. He scolded me a lot.” Archie shrugged.
Verity only ruffled his hair, glad to be able to keep him safe, glad that he was not distressed by the news of them moving out. If anything, he looked more than ready to leave.
She guided him out of the parlor without saying anything to her uncle. She had wasted enough words on him.
Together, Archie, Trinket, and Miss Grimsby climbed into the carriage. The door was left open for Verity, but she lingered for a moment. She took one last look at Ravenwood House, uncertain of when she would see it again.
The estate held so many memories, both good and bad, and grief lingered in every room, tainted by her uncle’s presence.
In truth, she was ready to leave it behind once and for all because of him.
The Duke stood at her side and gave her a nod. She returned it, before climbing into the carriage.
Three days later, Verity ascended the steps of St. George’s church, her stomach churning with nerves. She was clad in an ivory-white dress, its regal design far removed from the gaudiness of the gown she had been paraded in at the auction.
Archie, dressed in a matching tailcoat, followed her up the steps, encouraging Trinket not to get distracted by the flowers outside the church.
The clothes had been left for them in their respective chambers, and Verity had stared at the silk gown all morning, unable to think of anything but her future.
“It is strange that we have not seen the Duke,” Archie remarked. “His townhouse is very nice, and Trinket likes the gardens, but shouldn’t he have arrived already? I thought I could ask him if I could join him for breakfast, so I can get to know him more.”
Verity smiled and hugged her brother close as they arrived at the church’s entrance. “I think he is giving us some space to settle in.”
“Do you think he will be here? He might have changed his mind, and we might have to go back to Uncle John, and—”
“He is here, indeed.”
Verity turned at the sound of the Duke’s voice, finding him standing next to a man who was dressed just as finely. Of course, he wore a tailcoat and waistcoat so dark they were almost black, as if he wanted their attire to clash.
“Lady Verity,” he greeted, his voice deeper than she recalled. It sent a shiver through her, and she fought to suppress it. “Lord Archibald.”
“I was looking for you at your townhouse!” Archie admitted. “I wanted us to have breakfast together.”
The Duke just looked at Verity in question, but she gave a helpless smile.
“He is only seven,” she said by way of explanation. Her little brother saw things so simply, as if having breakfast with a stranger was a perfectly good thing to complain about. “Archie, how about you go inside? Trinket’s bow looks lovely, and I think the guests ought to admire him.”
Archie giggled in excitement and bolted ahead into the church, Trinket following him eagerly.
Once they left, Verity looked between the two men.
The Duke gestured to the brown-haired man next to him. “Lady Verity, this is Sebastian Halshore, the Duke of Talwyn and my closest friend. He will walk you down the aisle. If you agree, that is.”
A dull ache grew in her chest when she thought of how Vincent would have walked her down the aisle, had he been there. Or even her father. Despite how difficult and demanding he had grown in the last decade, he would never have tried to auction her off like her uncle.
For a minute, grief weighed her heart, but she swallowed past it and nodded. “That is fine.”
The Duke of Talwyn inclined his head towards her. His green eyes were bright, his coloring making him appear very handsome and charming. He gave her a half smile that admittedly made her stomach flutter.
“Thank you,” she added belatedly. “I am only glad that my uncle did not insist on doing it himself.”
“Your uncle will never again insist on doing anything where you are concerned,” her betrothed said sharply. “He has already left London, and you will not see him again if I can help it.”
Verity pressed a hand to her stomach, relief flooding through her. Never seeing her lecherous uncle again made her very, very happy. She could still feel his hands on her from that dreaded morning.
“You do not need to thank me, My Lady,” Talwyn assured. “It is my pleasure to walk such a beautiful lady down the aisle. You are going to make the finest Duchess, and your brother would be very proud of you.”
“You know Vincent, too?” She looked between the two men and caught her future husband glaring at his friend, but Talwyn ignored him.
“I do, indeed,” he confirmed.
But like her betrothed, he offered no further explanation.
Anyway, Verity knew now was not the time to press for one.
“So, it is my honor to walk you to the altar.”
Verity blushed as he gave her another charming smile, before her betrothed cleared his throat.
“It is time for us to go inside,” he declared, already turning to head into the church.
Verity watched him walk away, then glanced back at Talwyn, who had already held out his arm for her to take.
“Your Grace, if I may,” she began quietly. “You said you know my brother. Would he agree to this?”