Chapter 12
Verity returned breathless from the walk, tossing her walking boots off the moment she made it to her bedchamber.
She laughed with Dominic. A stroll with her husband had been just perfect. He could tease her when he was comfortable, he could even laugh. It was a charming sort of noise that she hadn’t expected. When they met, she wasn’t entirely convinced he could laugh.
Quite the delight.
“You were gone forever, Your Grace!” Lucy hastened into the room, immediately snatching up her boots. “Is everything well?”
“Perfectly well,” Verity reassured her. She plucked off her gloves one by one, handing them over. “I shouted and I laughed and I ate roasted nuts in the middle of the park. It was all splendid.”
Straightening up, her maid sent her a querying look. “Indeed, it sounds utterly splendid. I am glad to see you happy here.”
“Yes, yes, happy.” Verity stretched. Walking over to the window, she looked out to the gardens behind the house. They truly were lovely from any angle. Colorful and well-maintained. Very precise. Keeping management of a place already so well organized was very satisfying.
Hopefully, it always will be.
She hummed while her maid helped her change into a house dress. Lucy was going to go off to hem a loose stitch on her night robe when she paused to ask, “Is it truly going well with His Grace? I should like you content here, my lady. And with your secrets…”
“They shall remain secrets,” Verity reiterated immediately. She kept the smile on her face though it pained her. “I trust you can help me with that?”
“Yes, yes, of course.” Lucy nodded, curtseying before going off.
Verity was left to her own devices then. She turned back toward the window and was surprised to see Dominic out there. Over in the corner by the pond he stood, hands clasped neatly at his back while looking down.
What do you feel towards your own mother, Dominic? What was that expression you made this morning? The questions I have for you keep piling high, taller than any of us.
Yes, the morning stroll had been lovely. No longer did she feel like such a stranger to him, or he to her. There was charm in the man, and kindness and respect. She could see them managing their household and future well together.
Which meant he would surely trust her soon.
So long as he would trust her enough to share his secrets, that was what she wanted most right now. It was a hunger inside of her. Deep beneath her ribs, Verity needed to know what Dominic knew. What he was up to.
Whatever secrets exist now cannot be hidden forever. Not so long as I am on the trail.
If only she had more ideas. There wasn’t anything particularly fish about the duke that she could see thus far. And in the little research she had explored, her brother and husband had very little in common.
“I’ll be polite and proper and allow him his routines. He will trust me,” Verity told her reflection in the vanity mirror, “and he will lead me with clues he doesn’t even know. I’ll find the answers that way. Or I will show him I can be trusted to learn the truth.”
She could be trusted, couldn’t she?
While she gnawed on her lower lip, Verity stared at herself.
“Sometimes I wonder if I really know who you are,” Lucien had told her the morning of her marriage. “What are your desires? This marriage? Did you want anything else?”
And at the start of the season, Octavia had teased her, “You are so proper that you are the ton. You know everything and say nothing. You are London more than you are a person. Funny thing, that?”
There were more questions and teasing. Much of it from her family and past friends.
Because Verity was proper. She was appropriate. Having been the eldest daughter, she knew what she was supposed to be––the right words, the right posture, the right dance, everything. Becoming the right young lady, the best young lady, was supposed to fix her entire life.
“It led me to a marriage with a duke,” she mused to herself. “I suppose I could not do much better than that.”
But it didn’t bring me what I wanted. I gave myself that, me. My journal. No one takes female writers seriously but they all hunger for my work. They wait for my paper. They crave it. They want my words, me. They simply… don’t know it.
Did anyone know her?
Dominic’s smile came to mind. He didn’t mind her questions or her answers thus far. Though she surprised him, he took every surprise with grace. While there were moments where he appeared affected or stumbled through their conversations, he had been surprisingly generous.
Would he accept her, every part of her?
A short laugh escaped Verity. Unable to bear looking at herself another minute, she turned away from the mirror. She hardly knew herself. Who else could understand her? Who would care?
Be reasonable, you fool. My family doesn’t know. They will never know. My current family or my new family, none of them will ever learn my truth.
“Your Grace?”
She inhaled deeply before turning to Lucy coming through the side door. “Yes, what is it?”
“I forgot about your dancing slippers. They’ll use the same thread as the gown, so I might as well address them both at once,” she said before moving to the wardrobe.
“Also, I do believe you’ll be interested in learning your third footman, Danny, is the second bastard son of Lord Winthrop.
Fancy that? Apparently, Winthrop had quite a name for himself before his incident.
He’s a charmer. Danny, not his marquess father.
I think he’ll be a fine kisser if I get my hands on him. ”
A polite blush covered Verity’s cheeks at the mere mention of her maid once again looking for some improper fun. “Lucy! Are you attempting to cause a scandal under this very roof?”
“I think it will endear me to the household as another member of the gossip tree here,” the girl said defensively, winking.
She carried the shoes in her hands. “Besides, I think he knows more about Winthrop than you’ll someday find intriguing.
But until then, I can tell you that one of the chambermaids, Bridget, was originally working for Lord Laramie and his household. The gentleman is an absolute tyrant.”
“I’m afraid most of London knows about that,” Verity said whilst wrinkling her nose. “I do hope you’ll be careful with Danny. If you can find me anything else…”
Tsking, Lucy skipped forward. “You know I’m getting to it.
” She glanced about like someone else might barge in.
“Bridget heard about Laramie’s financial dealings.
Just before she left, she heard he came into quite a bit of money.
Some of the servants suspect it was from his estate, the one that burned down. Do you remember?”
It took a moment for her to rack her brain for that. She subscribed to every newspaper in London and read them frequently. “Vaguely… An accident, yet? Out in Yorkshire.”
“No, and yes. Servants said it was all a trick for the insurance.”
Her spine tingled like it often did when she heard something. “Oh really? That is… quite a bold thing to say.”
“Indeed.” For all Lucy’s propriety, she did adore some juicy details. She beamed. “What do you think about that?”
“I think if you can convince Bridget to tell you everything she hears, you can have an extra day off next week,” Verity reassured her.
And off her maid went, humming in satisfaction.
Verity took her time alone to write down some notes from what she’d learned. Questions needed answers and setting the tone early would help her know exactly what to write.
Afterward, she ventured down to the kitchens for the supper plan. The household was distant so far, but polite. Respectful. She hoped that in time they would grow more friendly like her household was in the last couple of years.
Then it was still too early for tea. Having been promised a visit by an old friend of hers recently returned to town, Verity thought she might work on her artwork. It never hurt to keep up the idea that she was attempting to learn to draw.
“Mrs. Ridley,” she said when she found the housekeeper. “I’m in search of some charcoal. To draw; I thought I might practice my drawing. Unfortunately, it appears I haven’t any in my belongings.”
The older woman paused in the hall. Her gray hair was drawn back so tightly it kept most of her wrinkles at bay. All the same, she ran a decent household and understood the servants much more than Verity did.
“Charcoal? We haven’t naught to draw. A few pens and the like in His Grace’s study, I believe, but I had best have someone send out for someone. Do you have a preferred shop?”
“Yes…” An idea sparked in Verity’s mind as she mentioned the shop. “Can you open a tab with them, if you please?”
Afterward, they parted ways. Mrs. Ridley to the nearest linen closet that was being reworked. And Verity up to Dominic’s study.
She entered quietly as she understood he was taking his usual afternoon ride with his favorite horse. There would be no chance for him to come across her while she sneaked into the room and closed the door behind her.
Silence greeted her. Looking around at the warm room, she noted the redwood furnishings for chairs and shelves.
It was crowded in here. But tidy. There was an order to the countless stacks of books and papers and folders.
She couldn’t quite understand it at first glance, but something told her Dominic had everything just so in this room.
“I’ll be very careful,” she promised the space.
We’re married, aren’t we? Surely it’s not a crime to come in here just a moment.
She inhaled deeply before tiptoeing forward. It was best she was as quiet as possible. All she might have would be a few minutes. The longer she stayed her, the riskier it became. None of this stopped the wild beating of her heart while she opened the drawers and browsed the papers.
“What secrets are you hiding?” She asked the furniture, wishing she might find something blaring and obvious. A hidden compartment would do just that.
But there was nothing that she could find, nothing that suspicious. Only… She caught sight of a paper bent over awkwardly on itself in the second drawer. Toward the back in shadow, it seemed to be asking her for the light. She couldn’t resist grasping it to see what it was about.
A letter. From Cassian, to Dominic. She would recognize her brother’s forceful writing style anywhere. Inside, the letter was short. Suggested it was best that Dominic come to have a conversation with him. It was dated before the day they had met…
So they did mean to converse. But why? What changed?
She heard voices outside the door and she jumped, dropping the letter in the drawer. She had been here too long.
Hastily she closed it and attempted to right everything. All she could do was hope she left everything as she found it.