Chapter 18
While Verity had always thus managed to avoid attending her printer during daylight, for once it was absolutely necessary.
She simply had to have a journal printed this week and knew it would be her only chance. This was very important to her. But this fact didn’t make it any easier.
The appointment with Mrs. Wendel had been fast and efficient. Money and paper had been traded. Now, she simply needed to get herself home or to a more appropriate shopping lane for a duchess before anyone recognized her.
Why does this feel so impossible? I feel too open out here. Too vulnerable.
“Oh!” Lucy jumped behind her when Verity paused and glanced across the street, causing her maid to bump into her. “Your Grace, please. No one is watching us. Or they weren’t until we stopped on the busy street.”
“I can’t help it.” She fumbled with her reticule. “I don’t like it. It’s so crowded today.”
“You have never minded the crowds before.”
“Because I felt safe being in public. Now… someone might see.”
“But they won’t know.”
Her maid gave her a pointed look as though to tell her how she must have lost her mind.
It was a fair assessment. Most of the time, it was Lucy all anxious and fretting about being found out.
She didn’t like traveling late at night or keeping secrets.
Though she didn’t particularly have a loose tongue, she claimed it was too much effort to keep something to herself most of the time.
Just because she’s sworn to secrecy, and paid extremely well, cannot guarantee my secret is safe forever. Someday it could be found out. And what then? What will I do? Who will I be when that happens?
Forcing herself to shake her head, praying some of the nerves might loosen up under her skin, Verity said, “You’re right. You’re absolutely right.”
“Certainly I am.”
“I shan’t be nervous. It isn’t as though anyone knows where we are going.” She gave herself a nod before she resumed walking. Hurried footsteps followed right at her shoulder as Lucy caught up to her. The sound was comforting. “And we certainly won’t be talking to anyone––”
Her mouth snapped shut at the sight of Dominic.
Around the corner he came. Already he was tall above the crowd, and his beaver hat only made it more transparent. His gaze seemed to wander without focusing until he abruptly caught eyes with her. It was like he had felt her looking, felt her shock.
His eyebrow raised a hair before settling into that polite and congenial expression of his as he took four more steps to stand in front of her.
“Verity, good morning.”
She forced a smile. At least, she thought she did. Her cheeks ached from being pushed into position. “Dominic. Your Grace.” She glanced about the street. “Whatever are you doing here on Paternoster Row?”
“I am picking up a new book. I didn’t expect to see you here myself. A pleasant surprise. What errands do you have here today?” He asked in return, his gaze shifting off her only for a moment to eye Lucy behind her.
What does a lady have to do over here? Especially before half the shops are open?
“I… was attempting to buy some paper myself only to realize the shop didn’t have what I needed.” Verity mustered up the lie with as much gumption that she could find. “We are merely making our way back to Bond Street.”
“Isn’t it in the other direction?”
She hoped he didn’t notice her eye twitching.
Most of the time, Verity thought herself very fine at lying.
Good at fibbing. Even a fair actor back in her youth when Octavia and Lucien were prone to play acting.
But she hadn’t had time to prepare for this.
And with panic climbing the back of her throat, she couldn’t focus.
“We’re taking the scenic route,” Verity proclaimed. Then she blurted, “I thought you were at your club.”
“I was there yesterday and shall attend today for another appointment, but I know one of the shops well enough to enter early. Perhaps you would like to join me and see if they might be able to assist you with your errands?”
“No. No, thank you. That’s very kind of you to ask, but I wouldn’t like to disturb your plans.”
He tilted his head, ignoring the brush against them as a woman passed by with a hand-held cart and three children. The world teemed about them, moving and flowing like the ocean. He stood steady without concern all the while.
Then Dominic said, “It’s not always the safest place for a duchess, this street. Perhaps I should accompany you on your errand.”
“No, that won’t be necessary. Lucy and I should be just fine on our own. The street is busy, and that should be safe enough. We have a footman who will join us later to accompany us home.”
“Which one?”
“Erm, Reginald.”
He frowned. “I don’t recognize the name.”
“He’s new.”
It felt a safe enough lie as she was the wife, the duchess, taking over the household management and accounts. He’d handed over his own book just two days ago so she could assess it with the housekeeper’s accounts.
All the same, Dominic’s measured look right into her eyes made her question her resolve. Even her confidence. He had no way of confirming right then how much she spoke the truth. So what did he believe?
Her heart thumped as he finally said softly, “Ah, that would explain it. I know how much you value your writing.”
How could he know?
The words escaped before she could think, the panic clinging to her spine like an anxious child. “What writing? What do you mean?”
“Wouldn’t you use paper to write?”
Immediately she felt the fool. Clutching her reticule tightly, ready to tear it to shreds, she forced up another smile. “Right. Yes, I do. I… I put in an order so I should have some sent to the house soon. That way, I won’t have to come here again.”
“I think that is for the best.” Only then did Dominic look away from her. She didn’t know what he looked for or what he saw. When he turned back to her, a slight smile crossed his face. “I have the carriage at the end of the street. Why don’t you join me at the bookstore?”
Her mouth opened in surprise before she closed it. “Oh, I don’t know…”
“I should like your opinion on the book. You enjoy writing letters, do you not? Do you enjoy reading as well?”
“Very much so,” Verity admitted automatically.
She glanced back at Lucy who simply stared back with wide blank eyes.
Who was her maid to decide what would happen now?
Swallowing, Verity pushed her panic down.
Already she’d made her morning appointment.
The work was done. Now, she simply had to get away from here.
And she supposed the best way would be to pretend she wasn’t going quickly. The less Dominic knew, the better.
“What do you like to read?” Her husband took her hand in his, tucking it in at his side, as he guided them back the way she had come.
“Everything. I’ve been exploring the history of the Ottoman Empire recently,” she admitted. Then she bit her lip, waiting for him to scold her.
“That sounds fascinating. I have a few books in the library about that time period, I believe. Have you explored them?”
Her cheeks flushed. “I haven’t. I wasn’t… That is, I hoped to. I’ve been writing more of late. But…”
“You grow hesitant around me?”
“No. Not exactly. I suppose I haven’t had much opportunity to discuss reading or history with anyone. My brothers paid it little mind and my sisters prefer other activities or literature that I know of these days. No one wants to discuss history with me.”
He tsked as he brought them to the doors of a shop. “You shall have to read the books. I’ll find them for you. Ignoring history means we are doomed to repeat the same mistakes.”
Excitement trickled through her. “That’s what I say!”
“Do you write about history then?”
“No, I… I write…” She couldn’t find the words. Even as he pulled open the door for her, Verity found herself speechless. “I’m not sure what I write is appropriate.”
“For whom?”
She quirked a partial smile. “For anyone.”
“Nonsense. Anything worth writing is surely worth reading. Besides,” he said with a slight pause as though he waited for her to meet his gaze, “I should like to read something of yours some day, should you allow it.”
“Really?” Verity didn’t know how she could keep the words tumbling about him. It was as though Dominic had a way of making her speak her mind. Sometimes it was terribly difficult to be careful around him. “Why? Most gentlemen don’t want a well-read wife. Thinking…”
He set a hand on the small of her back to nudge her into the bookshop all of the way. Warmth flooded her cheeks at the touch.
Then he murmured quietly, “We should all be allowed to be who we are. Different. Wouldn’t you agree?”
“I would, yes.”
Everyone can be different. I suppose they are. But I never thought about how different Dominic could be. His frank manner is… refreshing as it is puzzling.
She trailed after her husband as he reached the front counter. There, Dominic greeted the shopkeeper, Mr. Allan like they knew each other well. A package was offered, almost flat for a small book.
“I’ve got a few other deliveries that I think you might like as well,” Mr. Allan commented as he brought out a small box. “Here, take a look.”
Then he went off to attend to his assistant who was struggling with a ladder in the corner.
After glancing at them, Verity eyed Dominic with his new book. “What sort of book is it that you ordered?”
“History. It’s about keeping record of families, the philosophy of one’s life and name,” he commented mildly. “You’re welcome to explore it once I’m done.”
“Thank you.” She eyed the box curiously whilst finding herself asking, “Do you wish to make a record of your family?”
“No. I prefer the future and its opportunities. But to know the future is to know the past, so I find myself in need of study on this topic,” he explained.
She paused from touching the box when she considered the tone of voice he used. It wasn’t hard, but it wasn’t exactly friendly. “Why don’t you wish to write about your family?”
A pause before he admitted, “Because I’ve written enough about them. I don’t wish to reflect on harder days. My father was a relentless force of strength who knew no kindness, and my mother lost herself in frailty and fear. It was… an uncomfortable upbringing.”
Hearing this left her amazed. She too had known a harsh father and tender mother. But at least she’d had four siblings to find love and friendship in during those years. How had Dominic endured them all alone?
“It sounds very lonely. I’m sorry,” she whispered.
“You have no apologies to make,” he reassured her while nudging the box of books closer to her. “We are simply left with our lots in life. It’s hardly worth the heartache.”
“But you can still mourn that which you lost,” she reasoned.
“What about what I never had? No, I would rather press forward. There is a life to live, my duchess, and I should prefer to look to every day with reason and satisfaction. Not pain and certainly not regret.”
Those profound words weighed on her heart. She studied Dominic for a moment, and could see the years sitting behind his eyes. There had been pain. Loss. And yet he carried on.
Around came Mr. Allan before they could say anything more to one another. “Well,” he said with a clap of hands, “Are there any other books you would like to consider?”
Dominic’s gaze shifted down to her grip on the box.
She hadn’t had enough time to look through them carefully.
Just the look of them made her eager, though, hungry to touch the spines and smell the pages.
Books were her refuge before she took to writing.
They brought her such comfort through the years, and she liked to think of them as friends.
“Yes,” Dominic told the shopkeeper as he finally tore his gaze from her. She felt something missing when he did. But his voice was warm and kind as he announced, “We’ll take the entire box.”