Page 43 of Duke with a Deception
Her brows drew together again. “But is that true? Would you want to forget your daughter?”
He spun away from her forthright question, a lump suddenly in his throat. How was it that she saw him so well, better than he saw and understood himself? King suspected he would never know or fully comprehend the power Verity somehow had over him.
But he did know that he couldn’t bear any more reflection or discussion. What he needed, more than anything, was to be alone so that he could force the memories and the emotions to subside the only way he knew.
“You may as well go to supper without me,” he said over his shoulder, pouring the rest of the gin into his glass as he spoke. “I’m not fit company this evening. It’s been a long day.”
“I would prefer to stay with you. I don’t think you should be alone.”
“I wish to be alone,” he said firmly.
“King,” she entreated from behind him, her hand resting on his shoulder.
He stiffened. She had followed him. And he was tempted, so damned tempted, to spin about and take her in his arms. To accept the solace she so freely offered that he wasn’t worthy of receiving. But he couldn’t do it.
“Just go,” he forced out. “Please.”
“Very well.” She withdrew her hand, and he heard the rustling of her silk skirts and petticoats as she moved away from him. “If that is what you want.”
He took a deep breath and then released it slowly. “It is.”
“I’m sorry for what happened, King,” she said softly. “Sorry for everything.”
And then the door clicked closed, and he was alone again, just as he always had been before yesterday and just as he wanted to be. It was only then that he realized she had apologized to him again when she had done nothing wrong.
The only villain in this house was him.
Sooner or later, Verity would come to realize it too.
CHAPTER 7
Verity waited alone for her husband to arrive at the breakfast table.
And waited as the food under domed lids on the sideboard cooled.
He hadn’t visited her chamber last night as she had hoped. She had waited for him then as well. But she had not seen King since she had left him alone at his request in his study. Had he drowned himself in liquor as she had feared he would do? And why had he sought solace in spirits instead of her?
Her heart ached at the knowledge that he hadn’t wanted her comfort. That her love for him hadn’t been sufficient. Although she told herself she shouldn’t be hurt, she had stayed awake for many hours, lying in the darkness, hoping he would come to her or at least knock, until she had finally succumbed to slumber, tears drying on her cheeks.
Perhaps the subject of his daughter was simply too painful for him to bear. She could well understand how terrible the loss of a child would be. The despair she had felt when she believed something ill had befallen Emma had been so strong and overwhelming it had hurt to breathe. But to think of King with a baby daughter, of losing her when she was so small, of what hemust have endured to have shut away the memories of the child along with the nursery…
Verity sniffled, trying to stifle a fresh onslaught of tears.
What a silly goose she was, sitting here alone, weeping for a man who didn’t want her tears or her comfort. She loved him so, and yet she couldn’t shake the feeling that King was holding himself apart from her. Everett’s words of warning returned to her, and she unhappily found herself wondering, for the first time, if King truly did love her. Now that she thought upon it, he hadn’t returned the words to her in as long as she could recall.
She frowned down at her cooling cup of hot chocolate, the only breakfast item she had allowed herself thus far in her determination to wait for her husband’s arrival. The ticking of a mantel clock was her sole accompaniment, telling her that the hour was nearing ten o’clock. The difference between yesterday morning and this one could not have been starker or more pointed. It seemed a lifetime ago that she had floated in the sweetly scented bath with her husband, no cares on her mind, save whether she wanted him to handfeed her another ripe strawberry.
At least she had a purpose to distract her for today. She had visited with Emma in the nursery as soon as she had arisen, reassuring herself that the girl was safe and where she belonged. Emma had been happy, having her hair plaited into Grecian braids by Grace, and they had just finished their own breakfast. Verity had remained, pleased the girl was getting along so well with Grace and grateful for the distraction from her own troubles.
Finally, secured in the knowledge that Emma was getting well settled, she had descended for breakfast, expecting King would join her. Only, he hadn’t. And at this late hour, she was beginning to wonder whether he even intended to do so.
Deciding she had endured quite enough of waiting, Verity rose from her seat and left the dining room with its pleasant aroma of food she no longer had any desire to eat. Her stomach wasn’t hungry. It was knotted with worry. In the hall beyond, she spied Mrs. Sendall bustling about her daily duties.
She approached the housekeeper with purposeful strides, still painfully aware that she was an interloper in Castelyn House but determined to find her place. She was the Duchess of Kingham after all.
“Your Grace,” Mrs. Sendall greeted pleasantly, dipping into a curtsy. “Good morning to you.”
“Good morning,” she returned with a forced smile, for it wasn’t the housekeeper’s fault she was so ill at ease. “I wondered if I might have a word with you?”
