Page 90 of The Duke's Scottish Bride
She… loves me?He thought.No, this is Verity’s creative mind running away with her. My life is not a novel, and my marriage is not her business. I will see things are made simple, and right.
“You cannot meddle in my marriage, Verity!” Anselm said, his eyes narrowing. “You have no understanding of the complexities involved.”
“Complexities?” Verity cried, throwing her hands up in exasperation. “Is it complex to admit you care for someone? To admit you were terrified when she was in danger? I saw you with her, Anselm, all this time! You cannot lie to me about this, even if you are somehow able to deceive yourself. You are in lo?—”
“My concern for the Duchess’s safety is a matter of duty, Verity! Nothing more. And I will not have you confusing sentiment with reality any longer.”
“But—”
“But nothing,” Anselm snapped as he pointed a finger at her, which may as well have been a rapier. “You would do well to focus on your own future. You must find a respectable lord to marry, one who can offer you the stability you require. And you may, of course, agree with your husband to continue your writing, if he permits it. It will not be of my concern then.”
Verity stared at him for moments that felt like hours before speaking.
“Is that what this is about, Anselm?
You are afraid, are you not? The big, strong Duke is afraid to feel anything that might make you…vulnerable.”
Anselm’s composure finally cracked as fire clouded his vision. His eyes flashed with a dangerous anger, turning from sparking green to dark forests.
“That is enough, Verity! You are overstepping your bounds! Leave my study. Now. My words are final, and I will not speak of this matter again. You must heed me, sister. You are treading on thin ice.”
Verity recoiled, pacing backwards toward the door.
“Fine!” she snapped, her voice trembling in a way that was most unlike her. “But I cannot leave without saying that you are a fool, Anselm! A blind, stubborn fool!”
She turned on her heel and stormed out. The door slammed shut behind her with a thud that echoed through the silent house.
Anselm paced over to his brandy decanter and poured himself a glass of amber liquid to still his nerves. He took a deep sip and walked to the window, staring out at a couple on the street below. They were walking arm in arm, without a care in the world.
“Fools,” he said, as he threw back the last of his drink.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
“His Grace requests your presence, Your Grace,” a footman announced as he entered Marion’s chambers after a quiet knock. “He informs me that you have been invited to Lady Aberton’s soirée this evening and has asked me to fetch Miss Beth to help you dress.”
Marion, still raw from the previous night, felt a fresh wave of hurt at the cool invitation. He was treating her as a mere obligation for social appearances, an adornment to be worn at a party.
“Please inform His Grace,” she replied, her voice carefully neutral, “that I am feelin’ rather… indisposed this evenin’. I regret I cannae attend and will remain in me quarters for the time bein’.”
“Very well, Your Grace,” the footman said with a bow as he departed without asking any further questions.
Marion knew it was a lie as she spoke it, but she could not face him. Not yet. Not after his cruel words and cool actions. She needed more time to think of what to say and do next.
Marion heard clamoring in the hallway, and she walked to her door. She placed an ear on the heavy wood to see if she could hear what was happening.
“Lady Verity,” the footman called from down the hall with a soft knock. “Your brother would like you to attend Lady Aberton’s soirée this evening as Her Grace is indisposed. He would like to see you ready and in the foyer within the hour… if that is acceptable.”
“Very well,” Verity said in response as she cracked open her door. “Seems I am unable to defy His Grace’s wishes, so I will not put up a fight. Please send up my maid to help me dress and I will be down within the hour.”
“Of course, my lady,” the footman said as Marion heard his footsteps pitter patter down the hall, and Verity’s door slam shut.
“Lovely weather we are having this evening,” Verity joked as they entered the carriage. Light rain poured around them as the sun had begun to set.
“Indeed,” Anselm said as he sat across from her, taking off his gloves and looking absently out the window.
The ride was stiff, marked by long, awkward silences. Luckily, it was not a far jaunt to Lady Aberton’s London estate, and they would soon be swept up in conversation with more willing partners.
The ballroom at Lady Aberton’s was a dazzling spectacle of light and music. Anyone with eyes could see that.
