Page 45 of A Bride for the Forbidden Duke
“I do not feel as angry as I once did,” she contemplated to herself. “Lady Sheridan is right. It is more understandable, even if I do not know the whole story.”
“Who are you talking to?” a male voice demanded from behind her. Veronica whirled around, her wide eyes landing on the Duke, who towered over her.
Her lips parted.
“I—Your Grace, I did not know you had returned.”
His hard gaze swept the garden, and he wrinkled his nose at disarray. “I have only just handed my horse to a stable hand. What are you doing with my garden?”
“Ourgarden,” she corrected with a haughty smile. “And I am inviting some color into it.”
“There is color,” he said.
“Only green,” she countered. “The grass, the plants, the trees, and even the fields in the distance. But do not worry, Your Grace, all of this gardening has been done with minimal expense. I have even been doing some of the work myself.”
His jaw tightened as he loomed closer to her. Oh, how she had missed those brown eyes, even if they hardened on her now.
“This is yet another thing you neglected to consult me on, Duchess. First the manor and now the gardens. What else do you wish to change? The man who owns the estate?”
“You?” she whispered. “N-no, Your Grace. I would never?—”
“You should not be doing things without telling me!” he berated, anger flooding his voice as he paced back a few steps.
In his black jacket and shirt, a dark, silk waistcoat with golden threadwork, he looked as though he should swelter beneath the sun.
Somehow, while Veronica felt like a flushed mess, he looked masculine and handsomely disheveled. A bead of sweat slid down his temple as he brushed his hair back from his forehead.
Veronica swallowed, following the line of movement.
“Your Grace,” she whispered, “I… I am sorry.”
“You should take—Excuse me?”
He had been preparing for her counter argument, ready to continue arguing his own point without even listening to her, until he realized she had apologized rather than argued.
“I am sorry,” she repeated.
He blinked, stepping forward, as if he did not trust himself to have heard her correctly. “You are sorry?”
Veronica nodded. “Indeed. It is only that I noticed you have been busy meeting with your tenants these past weeks, and I wished not to bother you. However, I wanted you to have a beautiful countryside estate that felt like your own home. Lady Sheridan told me some of your favorite colors as a boy?—”
He scoffed. “I am not a boy who concerns himself with colors.”
“Nonetheless, I hoped some colors would cheer you up out here,” she said.
Almost nervously, she laughed as she gestured around her. “I thought… perhaps we could sit out here together on a hot day.”
“And talk?” he guessed, his tone sarcastic.
“Well, why not?” she asked kindly, cocking her head at him.
He sighed. “You could not keep up with the sort of things I talk about,” he replied.
She ignored the jab. “I thought I could do this alone,” she insisted, her patience wearing thin.
Nothing she did pleased him.
“Forgive me for wanting to offer something nice for you while you have been busy with your work.”
