Chapter 22
Swallowing her nerves at the sight of the dining room doors, Verity rubbed her hands together and forced herself to keep walking.
She was used to slow mornings since London nights lasted so long. But as she knew Dominic liked to break his fast there, she thought she might attempt to join him this time.
Especially after last night.
Her heart was pounding as she stepped inside, the footman closing the door behind her. Anger and frustration settled low in her fists as she prepared to address the man who had left her last night.
First, Verity recognized the sideboard filled with rich foods that she’d usually have brought to her on a tray. Then she noted the long table and finally the corner where Dominic was reading a newspaper. Her anger dissipated as she stared.
The duke was wearing spectacles.
Such a sight made her breath stutter. Already he was an awfully handsome man. She usually aimed to ignore the fact. But those spectacles were awfully charming and made him appear quite dashing in a wild sort of way. An extra minute was required for her to pull herself together.
“Good morning, Dominic,” Verity said in a forced cheerful voice.
He stiffened. The paper lowered as her husband stared at her. It took a minute for him to rise and offer her a nod. “Good morning, duchess. I didn’t expect to see you here.”
Duchess. How… formal.
Whilst praying her eye wasn’t twitching the way it felt it did, Verity nodded. She waved a footman at the side table. “Yes, I thought I might join you this time for breakfast. Although I suppose it’s practically afternoon tea at this hour,” she added on a light note.
So very formal. Just the way he wants it to be. Like nothing happened. Oh, I can play better than that!
His eyes strayed over her hands and shoulders as she put together her plate and then took a seat. Only then did he sit back down, picking up the newspaper again.
Up the paper went between them.
It felt like fire licking her arms as she sat there, still and hardly breathing, wondering if she was really sitting on pins and needles. There was such a dreadful awareness of her behavior last night. So much had been said. So many tears had been shed.
She winced, feeling her anger shift into regret.
How could she have been so emotional? Unease pooled in her stomach; it had been dormant during a deep sleep but returned the moment she was awake and conscious, able to recall the past. All she had wanted to do was hide away for the rest of her life for acting so weak.
“How brave you are,” Elowen was always telling her with admiration.
“You’re so proper, I don’t think anything could crack you,” Octavia would tell her.
“Must you be so much better than the lot of us?” Lucian would complain.
“Do not shame the family name,” was all Cassian ever said.
Staring at her plate of food, Verity knew she wasn’t hungry. Her stomach was clenched tightly in a knot. Trying to move past her fear, she had thought to boldly come down to breakfast and show she was still a proper lady, a proper duchess.
But what was she really doing? Dominic wasn’t looking at her. He had been so… Verity didn’t understand. One moment she had felt his lips delicate against her skin. And in the next moment, he fled.
Was it the tears? My words? What did I do wrong?
Verity knew how to do many things. Play the pianoforte, run a household budget, solve disputes amongst servants, plan menus, and manage her gossip journal. She had a very decent skillset.
Only none of it prepared her to be truthful with herself, let alone another.
She forced herself to take a deep breath and to set her shoulders back. So a mistake had been made. She would learn. She wouldn’t drink and she wouldn’t share her truthful thoughts and feelings. Letting out her anger on him would do neither of them any good. It was best that they simply move on.
Turning her head to Dominic, she waited for him to turn to her as well. Only he didn’t. She tried not to let that deter her.
“It looks to be a lovely day,” Verity offered with that cheery tone.
“Hm? Oh, yes, I suppose so.”
She bit her tongue before asking, “Do you think perhaps you shall go for a ride today?”
“In the afternoon, I’m sure.”
“That sounds like a splendid time for a ride. We could pass along the Serpentine, before the crush arrives at the park?”
Down came the newspaper though his eyes stared off elsewhere. She leaned forward, wondering if that might draw him back. It didn’t. “I’m afraid I actually have an appointment this afternoon. I can’t miss it,” he added.
Her stomach contracted. She sliced through her sausage to cut it into smaller bites. But nothing went into her mouth. “Certainly, I understand.”
Although Verity attempted thrice more to bring Dominic into conversation, his answers were short and distant. She made a jest as well, a fine one about the nut sellers in the streets, but he didn’t laugh.
He didn’t even smile.
Every response her husband provided gave Verity proof that her charming husband wasn’t there. It was as though they’d never met before. She tried to reason with herself about his behavior but struggled to find a way to understand how she’d caused such damage.
“Shall I see you for supper?” She called when he left the room.
“I’m busy,” he answered over his shoulder. “Good day.”
Groaning silently, Verity pushed her plate out of her way and dropped her face in her hands. She’d messed up terribly.
There goes my attempt at being a passable duchess and wife. How anyone else manages this, I hardly know. But I suppose I was meant to learn to swallow my pride some way…
Over the next couple of days, Verity hoped they might return to the congenial relationship they’d begun to establish. Sightings of her husband were rare, even at the supper table where he usually took his meals.
So long as she could pretend all was well, then perhaps it would be. Or at least, it would be until one of them cracked.
And it won’t be me.
“It was the most amusing thing,” she told him one night at supper. “After Cook was done ordering and teasing, the fish peddler then told me he had never been to Bath, and where to find the town of Bucket! Isn’t that silly?”
Dominic kept his eyes on his soup. “Quite.”
Resisting the urge to scowl, Verity gripped the silverware tightly in her hands. She glared down at her bowl as though it might be the cause for all her troubles.
“It would have been sillier had he tossed his bucket of fish on my head,” she muttered sullenly.
“Indeed.”
Letting a breath hiss out between her teeth, she locked her jaw and turned to him.
Verity had spent nearly a week now tip-toeing around her husband in their home.
The household was responsible for managing most of their communications these days and she’d received much more insight from them than anything from him.
And she couldn’t keep doing this.
“What is that supposed to mean?” Verity demanded. “Are you talking to me in some form of code?”
The volume of her tone had risen, catching him by surprise. She only knew this was evident in the way that he finally looked her in the eye; the duke hadn’t done that in days and she doubted it was intentional.
“I beg your pardon?” His voice was terribly polite.
Like he’s talking to a stranger.
She huffed. “That’s the longest string of words you’ve given me since the ball, and I cannot keep doing this with you.”
Slowly setting down his silverware, Dominic glanced her over warily. He took his time in asking, “What can you not do with me, duchess?”
“This! Why do you keep calling me this? Why don’t you use my name? Why are we strangers?” Even asking these questions made Verity feel as though she had gone mad. She huffed out a breath and shook her head in frustration. “I thought we were…”
“What? We are married in the eyes of the law,” he offered.
Another long sentence, she supposed, but provided her nothing she didn’t already know. It made her body want to scream. Rising to her feet, unable to sit still another moment, she crossed her arms.
“What happened?” She demanded.
“I don’t know what’s wrong.”
She leaned forward and then back, uncertain if she wanted to be closer to him. Parts of her wanted to hug him, to kiss him, to strangle him. “Then call me by my name, at least.”
“Verity,” Dominic said in a measured tone. “You’re acting irrationally. Would you like to lie down and rest?”
“No, I want to have this conversation with you before you run away from me,” she accused him.
“Do not act as though I have gone mad. I know I am sane. I know I am capable of mistakes. And I also know I’m perfectly able to learn from my actions.
But you have to give me something! What has changed between us? ”
His brow furrowed like he was confused. The way his eyes remained downcast, however, left her floundering as he replied, “Nothing has changed.”
“Nothing?”
“Verity,” he said her name again.
It was usually such a lovely sensation. She liked the way he drew out her name like it meant something. Only tonight it was clipped and polite like a stranger was saying it to her.
“Verity,” he said again, his words careful and intentional. “There is nothing between us for you to worry about. We are married. We have committed to this marriage. This was an agreement we made to the law, to the Lord, and to one another.”
“Yes, yes, but…” She trailed off, losing steam. For her passions in writing, words failed her now. She flung a hand out as though to showcase that it wasn’t enough.
He leaned back. “We committed to this union and agreed to this marriage. Nothing more.” He looked steadily in her eyes as if he were a stranger.
It left her uncomfortable and bewildered.
Didn’t they know each other? Didn’t he know her a little bit?
“I apologize, Verity, if I have given you any impression of anything different, such as what I did the night in the library. I assure you it will not happen again.”
Him, as if he made the mistake. As if it was his fault kissing me instead of my tears… Good lord, is that what he means?