Chapter 13 #2
“At first, she was fearful she would fall,” Verity continued.
“The dragon was large and covered in slippery scales that made it difficult to hold on to as it flew. But she clung to the dragon with all her might, and after they had managed to get far enough away from the burning home, the dragon slowed. Eventually, it landed softly and quietly by a rushing brook on soft, long grasses, beneath the shade of a wizened old tree.”
“Did it try to eat the girl?” Emma demanded.
Verity chuckled softly. “Of course it didn’t, silly. Dragons don’t eat girls.”
The child blinked. “Wot do they eat, then?”
“Why…” Verity trailed off for a moment, and he could easily imagine her clever mind whirling for an answer. “Dragons eat insects.”
“Wot kinds?”
“Bees. And spiders.”
“Spiders?” The girl scrunched up her face. “Why would dragons eat those?”
He bit his lip to keep from chuckling, entranced. Why indeed?
“Because dragons know that little girls don’t like arachnids,” Verity said, sounding quite firm on the matter.
“Wot’s a rack-nid?” Emma asked.
“Arachnid is another word for spider, dearest.”
“Ah. That’s a good reason, it is,” Emma declared, clearly finding the explanation reasonable.
“I think so too.” Verity smiled, running the brush through the girl’s hair one last time before setting it aside. “When I was a girl, my brother liked to collect spiders. He would keep them in jars, and then sometimes, he would let them free in my bedroom.”
“Yer brother’s a rotter, Lady Vitty,” Emma said, utterly serious.
Verity chuckled. “He’s a good brother now that we are grown. He was a mischievous boy, however.”
King heard the fondness in her voice and knew a swift stab of guilt. Verity and Riverdale had always been very close to each other. King didn’t like being the cause of any rifts between them. And there was no doubt about it, he was the source of their fractured relationship.
Because he was selfish.
He had seen what he wanted, dangling before him, and he had seized it—seized Verity—without a thought for what the cost would be later. But he was thinking of it now, and it was an ache in his chest. He loved Verity, and she deserved the truth.
How could he tell her, if telling her meant losing her?
He didn’t think he could bear it.
The nursemaid bustled into view, dragging King from his troubled musings. She dipped into a curtsy.
“Good evening, Your Grace.”
He inclined his head to her, noting that she bore a tray laden with some biscuits and tea.
“I was just paying a visit to the nursery to see if Her Grace was finished visiting with Miss Emma.”
That much was true. He needn’t admit he had been watching, consumed by maudlin sentiment, for the better part of a quarter hour now.
He and Verity had begun paying evening visits to the nursery together.
However, he had been out this evening paying a call upon the Duke of Brandon, and King had returned late to discover his wife already attending to her nighttime duties.
The time for another of their society’s wicked house parties would soon be upon them, and whilst King had taken on the burden of making the arrangements in the wake of every one of the founding members’ marriages, he was no longer desirous of partaking in the ode to debauchery as he once had.
Something needed to be done. He had met with Brandon at the Black Souls Club to discuss the circumstances in which they now found themselves.
I never thought I would see the day, Brandon had teased him good-naturedly. The Duke of Kingham, a happily wedded man.
Yes, but for how much longer?
He vanquished that unwanted thought, gesturing for the nursemaid to precede him over the threshold.
“Yer Grace!” Emma greeted happily, rising from the carpeted floor to dip into a curtsy that was so enthusiastic, she nearly toppled over sideways.
He stopped to bow. “Miss Emma. How are you this evening?”
“Better now that Nurse’s come with my tea,” Emma told him conspiratorially. “My stomach was rumbling while Lady Vitty told me a story.”
His gaze traveled, inevitably, to Verity, whose full pink lips were curved in a tender smile of welcome. She rose to her feet, shaking out her skirts, the epitome of domestic elegance. How at home she looked in the nursery, a place that had once been sealed away and forgotten.
Rather like his heart.
She had changed that.
Had changed him.
“You have returned from your visit with Brandon so soon?” she asked.
“You would have me stay away longer?” he teased. “Perhaps I shall go again.”
Verity chuckled. “Of course not. I missed you. We missed you this evening, didn’t we, Miss Emma?”
“Yes, we did,” Emma agreed, already across the room and washing her hands at the pitcher and bowl in preparation for tucking into her biscuits and tea.
“I missed you both as well. I must admit that I, too, long to know more about dragons and what they eat for dinner.”
Emma giggled delightedly. “Rackness! Dragons loves to eat rackness.”
“Arachnids,” Verity gently corrected.
“Uh-rack-niss,” Emma repeated.
King bit his lip to keep his own laughter at bay.
What a miracle it was to stand in the nursery without suffering a visceral reaction.
Emma’s presence gave it new life. Gone was the somber memory of his own miserable years as a lad within these walls.
And he found a bittersweet sense of hope in knowing there was new life in the room where his daughter would have grown into a girl.
“A-rach-nids,” Verity tried again, enunciating clearly.
“Uh-rack-niss,” Emma said, looking proud of herself.
Verity shared an amused glance with him and then turned back to the girl. “We will continue our dragon story tomorrow evening. You shall have your tea with Nurse Grace now before the hour grows too late.”
“Yes, Lady Vitty,” Emma said.
The child crossed the room and fetched the doll he had given her, tucking it under her arm. “Annabelle likes to take tea with us.”
“I do hope you are teaching our Annabelle her manners, Miss Emma,” he said.
She grinned, dimples forming in her cheeks. “Of course I am, Yer Grace.”
“Excellent.” He nodded. “I have no doubt that you are doing an excellent job.”
“If she’s rude, I’ll eat ’er biscuits,” Emma confided.
King suspected that Annabelle the doll was rude quite frequently.
“We shall leave you to your tea,” Verity said, smiling.
They bid their evening farewells, and then King offered Verity his arm, escorting her from the nursery.
“I missed you tonight,” she said softly as they moved down the hall.
He covered her hand with his. “I missed you more. Seeing Brandon was a necessary evil, I’m afraid. With all the members of the Wicked Dukes Society now happily married, we find ourselves in desperate need of new hosts for the house parties.”
“Are the house parties so very wicked?” she asked, her tone curious.
Images flitted through his mind of all the decadence and depravity he had witnessed and participated in. He didn’t dare give voice to a single blessed one, for he was no fool. But he was happy to realize he didn’t long for those hedonistic days. He had everything he wanted beneath his own roof.
He cleared his throat. “They have been known to be so, yes.”
An understatement, that. But she needn’t know the truth. Their house parties had been ridiculously sordid. That was what made them so appealing to the members—one week to do whatever one wished without fear of scandal.
“Then I am glad indeed that you no longer shall be attending.” She gave him a mischievous look. “The ladies will be doomed to disappointment, because you are mine now.”
She had no notion just how fully and completely he belonged to her, body and soul. His gut clenched. He couldn’t continue to keep the truth from her. But as he walked at her side, the scent of bergamot and roses filling him with fire, he couldn’t bring himself to form the words.
Not now, whispered a voice inside him.
Not yet.
He would tell her. But he needed to think about how. To find a means of revealing the truth that wouldn’t cause him to lose her. That was, if such a way existed. Because life without her…
No, he couldn’t bear to envision it.
He settled his hand over hers. “I’ve been yours since the moment we met, angel.”
These were the truest words he had ever spoken to another.