Page 40 of Duke with a Deception
“No, you haven’t. I wanted to see how the child was faring, and the maid told me you had intended to come to the nursery.” He remained at the threshold instead of entering the room.
It was almost as if he didn’t want to come inside.
“Forgive me,” she said. “I didn’t mean for you to chase after me. I was simply trying to determine the state the nursery was in.”
His gaze dipped to the blanket she still held in her hands. “I told you to wait until tomorrow. This is the job of servants.”
His voice was colder than she had ever heard, cutting and precise.
“I’m sorry for intruding,” she offered, settling the blanket on the chair where she had found it. “I don’t know if you previously mentioned whom the nursery had been arranged for last, but I?—”
“I didn’t,” he interrupted sharply. “This shall all need to be packed away. I’ll instruct Mrs. Sendall accordingly. It should have been done before now.”
“King,” she said softly. “Why did you not tell me you had a sister?”
His gaze flicked back to hers, his expression hard and unyielding. “Because I didn’t have a sister. I have no siblings.”
She wrinkled her brow, struggling to make sense of the revelation, confused. “But if you didn’t have a sister, then who was Daphne?”
“She was my daughter,” he bit out.
And then, without another word, he turned on his heel and left her standing in the nursery in shocked silence with nothing but the sound of his retreating footsteps and the hiss of the gas lamps to break the quiet. With nothing but the multitude of questions she suddenly had for her husband churning in her mind.
King stalkedinto his study and headed to the sideboard, pouring himself three measures of the first bottle that was within reach. He didn’t even know what it was, and he didn’t fucking care.
He tossed back the entire thing, gulping it down.
What a bloody day.
A horrible, no-damned-good bloody day on the heels of one of the best of his life. King should have known, of course, that he was doomed. He had known far more terrible days than good, starting from when he had been a boy raised by his father’s icy rage and his mother’s angry slaps.
Still, he was shaken. He hadn’t expected to tell Verity about Daphne like this.
Or to tell her ever.
Nor had he been prepared for the impact of entering the nursery for the first time since the day he had last closed its doors to find Verity standing there in the glow of the gaslight, clutching Daphne’s blanket. It had been as if the two halves of his life had suddenly collided. They never should have. He had closed the door on that part of him literally and metaphorically.
Forever.
Christ.Marrying her had been a mistake. He should have known that. He should have run like Cerberus was at his heels when she had first mentioned her delusion that they were engaged to be married. And yet he hadn’t. Why not?
One day into being a married man, and he already had a brat under his roof, his new wife had brought him to his knees,and now she had invaded the nursery he had intended to never have to face. At least not until the remnants within had been safely removed by the servants, packed away and sent to the attic where they belonged.
He poured another three measures of liquid into his tumbler. As it happened, the random poison he selected was gin. Not as mind-numbing as absinthe, but it would have to suffice. He’d drink enough of the stuff to drown himself in it if need be.
The door to his study opened behind him. He swallowed down the gin, knowing before he even turned around to face the interloper who was there.
Verity swept inside, closing the door with circumspect care. Of course she did. Every act she undertook was careful, precise perfection. She was an angel. He very much doubted she had ever made a single mistake in her life except for marrying him.
Even her face was a study in pity and consolation. She wanted to understand him. Poor fool had no inkling that he didn’t deserve her understanding.
He didn’t deserve her.
“Pray forgive me if I’m overstepping,” she began hesitantly.
“You are most definitely overstepping,” he snapped.
Hurt flashed over her face, and he hated himself anew.
