Page 41 of A Bride for the Forbidden Duke
“I see,” she said. “One might think you are not in the same marriage.”
“I assure you, we are.” The Duke pinched the bridge of his nose. “Regardless, you have pestered me for many years with questions of when I would marry, and now, I am. I do hope this makes you happy, aunt.”
She beamed. “Indeed, it does. And your wife is radiant. Do you not think so, Henry?”
Veronica pointedly kept her face politely on Lady Sheridan but felt the look the Duke gave her pass over her in a tingle of attention.
“She is beautiful,” he answered, voice tight.
He is merely putting on a good display, she told herself.
“And you, Your Grace?” Lady Sheridan asked. “His Grace is most easy on the eyes, is he not?”
“Lady Sheridan!” the Duke complained. “Have you simply visited just to interrogate us on our affairs?”
His voice was not as hard as it was when Veronica overstepped. If anything, he seemed more like he was fondly chastising her.
A bit too swiftly, Veronica’s thoughts wandered off to how he had looked at her the night before, kneeled at her feet, his mouth dipping to her?—
“Your Grace?” Lady Sheridan asked. “Is all well? You have become flushed.”
“It is merely hot in here,” she answered quickly. “Is it not?”
“Indeed.” The Duke cleared his throat as if he knew exactly what she spoke about.
He hesitated before standing up. “If you will excuse me, I have some work to attend to.”
He hovered, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides, before he nodded and began to leave. Then he paused at the door. “I shall see you both at dinner.”
Veronica noticed the warning glance he gave Lady Sheridan before leaving. Moments later, she heard the heavy slam of his study door.
“Ah.” Lady Sheridan’s smile widened. “He is somewhat agitated, isn’t he? He enjoys the door open when he works. He only shuts it in his most heavy grievances.”
“His Grace is doing poorly?” Veronica asked.
“On the contrary.” Lady Sheridan leaned back, sipping at her tea. “I would wager is he doing rather well. But of course, the stubborn fool won’t admit it.”
Dinner was served in the dining room, and Veronica realized it was the first time she and the Duke had made use of it.
Silverware clinked, their wine was poured, and Lady Sheridan talked enough for all of them. The Dowager Viscountess sat closer to the Duke, and although Veronica was on the other end of the table, annoyingly far away, the Duke kept meeting her gaze.
What did you think about when you shut yourself in your study all afternoon? she wondered.
The Duke’s gaze dropped to her mouth as he drank from his glass deeply before licking away a droplet that collected at the corner of his lips. She swallowed, looking back down at her plate.
“Henry, you must make sure you are keeping on top of the ledgers,” Lady Sheridan said, thoroughly indulging in the spread of food before her.
“I am,” he assured her. “You should not fuss so much. I am taking my title with the utmost responsibility.”
“I know,” she insisted. “But it does not hurt to have someone cluck over you like a hen.”
“I am not in need of a hen, Lady Sheridan,” he said, giving her a softer smile than Veronica had seen him give anyone. “And if I did have one, they would cluck outside where I could not hear.”
He is patient with her, Veronica realized.
There was still a tight irritation in his face, as if he was enduring his aunt but disliked doing so, but he was more patient with her than she had witnessed with anybody else.
“And of course, there are the village visits,” she said.
