Page 52 of A Virgin for the Duke of Scars
She had heard the whispers about her husband, his mask, and what was under the surface. But she knew that all of those rumors were false, and she would have none of them.
“I meant it in jest, Duchess,” the Duke said. “He is my closest friend. I know him a great deal better than you do, and I assure you he is no beast.”
“You must learn to choose your words carefully, Your Grace,” Juliette interjected, seeming to sense the tension between them.
“My apologies. I did not mean to speak out of turn. I hope you will attend the house party. It would be lovely to have you there.”
“We will be there,” Theresa affirmed.
The Duke of Hiverville took his leave before he could make any other snide remarks about his best friend.
Theresa would never understand why he would call his friend names, even in jest. Especially a name that Aaron was so sensitive about.
Perhaps she just needed to get to know the man better, and she would see his jokes for what they were—harmless jests. The sisters at the convent would occasionally rib each other, but she was overly sensitive to her husband’s feelings and hang-ups about his mask.
Juliette came up behind her to see what she was looking at with such intensity.
In truth, Theresa had been drawn to the painting, but she was mostly thinking about how she would act when people insulted her husband in front of them both.
She had a feeling that Aaron would never stand up for himself, and it was not a ladylike thing to do.
Amid her pondering, she gravitated to one particular painting. It was provocative, the strong colors swirling on the canvas.
The stormy sea was raging, a beautiful charcoal grey that reflected the depth of the ocean and its angry waves. It was not the kind of storm to be caught up in. The sun was setting over the sea, turning the sky blood red.
Perhaps it stood out to her because it was the only painting she had seen so far that did not have a person in it.
It stirred something in her gut, something that she could not quite put a name to.
It was the first time art spoke to her.
“This one doesn’t have a name,” Theresa noted, looking at the placard. All it mentioned wasAnonand a price of six hundred pounds.
“You may be surprised to learn that Anon is a duchess. She chooses to paint anonymously, but her name is Emily Montague,” Juliette revealed.
Theresa’s mouth dropped open in shock. She would never have imagined that this was painted by someone likeher.
“She is truly talented,” she said. She wondered if her husband harbored the same degree of talent.
“Juliette, will you help me purchase this painting for my husband? It could be a gift for him. I feel this is a painting he needs in his tower.”
The two women found the gallery owner and haggled over the price of the painting. Eventually, they settled on a sum, and then the two women went in search of the Dowager Duchess to leave the gallery.
“I had no idea you were a collector,” the Dowager Duchess remarked on the ride home.
“I don’t know about being a collector. I simply saw this painting and immediately thought of Aaron. I could not resist buying it for him as a gift. I hope he likes it,” Theresa said.
“I have a feeling my grandson would love anything you gave him.”
Theresa blushed and wondered if the woman knew about the things Aaron had given her. Could she know how he had touched her, how he had kissed her last night?
The walls have ears.
Then, she decided she didn’t care.
CHAPTER 18
Aaron was in his tower as usual, brooding over the fact that his wife had better things to do today than spend time with him. He was busy, yes, but he could have found time for her in his busy schedule.
