Page 9 of Duke with a Deception
“Samuel Taylor Coleridge,” she blurted, the poet who had written those beautiful words occurring to her suddenly.
The poem in question was called “Love.”
“Are you feeling well?” Everett asked, looking at her as if she had gone mad.
She blinked, and as quickly as it had descended upon her, the fleeting memory was gone. “Quite well, thank you. I was merely thinking of a poem by Samuel Taylor Coleridge. I could recall the words, but not his name.”
“What does that have to do with what we were speaking about?”
She frowned, for once again, her curious mind was empty. “What were we discussing?”
“Kingham professing his undying love and devotion to you.”
“You know he isn’t an effusive man.”
Everett’s nostrils flared as they tended to do whenever he was displeased. “Try again, sister. Think about Lord Leopold.”
She stared at her brother, inwardly willing herself to remember, but as always, there was simply nothingness where her memories had once dwelled. It was frustrating, but nothing could be done. The physician had suggested that time would likely aid in the restoration of her past. But she wasn’t convinced. Such injuries were unusual. The physician had only seen one other like it that had resulted in the loss of memory Verity suffered.
“I don’t remember him, Everett,” she said quietly. “Please, you must accept that I may never again be the Verity you knew before the fire. A part of me is missing, burned to ash with those flames.”
Her voice faltered as emotion welled up within her. Frustration, sadness, confusion. More than anything, she wanted to be happy. She wanted her brother to be happy for her. Wanted him to accept her impending marriage with King.
“Pray don’t weep, sister,” Everett relented as he reached for her, patting her arm in a consoling manner. “You know I cannot bear it when you do.”
Yes, she did. But her emotions were not as easy to control these days as they had once been. Tears pricked at her eyes now, her vision blurring until they overflowed and slipped down her cheeks.
“Verity,” he protested, his voice gruff. “I’m sorry. I know you have been through a great deal these last few months. I shouldn’t have been so stern with you. It is only that you are my sister and I love you. It’s my duty to protect you, and I cannot help but to feel as if I’m failing you miserably in allowing you to wed Kingham.”
“He loves me,” she insisted.
Because he did. Kingham had given her the locket she wore at her throat. He had told her he would love her always. That marrying her and making her his wife would be the greatest honor of his life. And he had saved her from the fiery depths of the Children’s Foundling Hospital. He had carried her in his arms to safety.
They were the actions of a man who loved her. A gallant knight who had rushed to her rescue with no fear for his own welfare. Who had saved her. He was all she could think about ever since. Marrying him. Loving him. Beginning their life together. And now, at long last, the time had finally come.
“I hope he does love you,” Everett said, his countenance serious and stern. “If he hurts you in any way, I’ll thrash him to within an inch of his life.”
Verity dashed at her tears with the back of her hand before recalling the handkerchief she kept with her always, tucked into the pocket hidden in the skirts of her gown. She extracted it and used it to dry her cheeks, her thumb rubbing over the embroidered initials on the square of linen.
PSC.
King had given it to her. Those letters stood for his given name, Peregrine Septimus Castelyn. A mouthful, to be sure. Little wonder he chose to go by King instead.
“He shan’t hurt me,” she told her brother firmly.
“I wish I could be as certain,” Everett countered, his tone as grim as his expression.
“How can he possibly do so?” Verity smiled, confident. “We will be exceedingly happy together. You shall see.”
“You deserve nothing less, sister.”
And although Verity read the sadness in her brother’s eyes, mirroring the wariness in his voice, she was firm in her belief. Tomorrow was the day she had been awaiting.
The day she would marry the man she so desperately loved.
It was done.
Verity washis.
