Page 53 of A Duke in Disguise
Staying in the country gave London a bit of time to get over the shock of having a new duke who had made a disgraceful marriage. While Lady Caroline declared herself content to weather the storm, Verity thought it could wait until some of the furor had died down. She hated the country much less than she thought she would.
A letter from Roger arrived after they had been in the country only a few days. He was well and the climate agreed with him. Verity watched as lines of concern smoothed from Ash’s forehead and he seemed to drop a burden she hadn’t entirely known he was carrying.
In the first weeks of spring, when the ground was still frozen and the trees were still bare, a letter finally came from America. Verity had burst into tears at the sight of her brother’s handwriting, and Ash had needed to read the letter aloud to her.
Then, when the summer was in full swing, a peculiar letter arrived from Amelia. “Salutations on becoming a grandmother,” she wrote to Verity. “Your demonic cat has had an appalling number of kittens, all very sweet, which leads me to believe they take after their father, whoever he might be. Also, it may interest you to know that there’s a new scandal du jour. My brother—both my brothers, in fact—have made ill-advised marriages. Mother is delighted. The good news is that when you return to London you will no longer be the most outrageous aristocratic spouse, and that is all I’m going to say on the matter. I finished the Isabella of France manuscript (please find it enclosed) and have commenced a biography of Joanna the Mad.”
“What’s that look on your face?” Ash asked. He stood in the door of the room Verity had adopted as her study. His sleeves were rolled up and there were bits of hay or some other vegetation in his hair. A smudge of dirt sat under one eye. He looked very flushed and very happy. She would never have guessed that the country would suit him. She certainly wouldn’t have guessed how well it would suit her, but she was coming to understand that it mattered very little where she was, compared to who she was with.
“The Marquess of Pembroke has outdone us in scandal, apparently.”
“Damn. We’ll have to take up as highwaymen to reclaim our spot,” Ash said.
“I was thinking we could try piracy.”
“That’s the spirit.” He grinned. “So do you want to go back to London? We could hire a house if you don’t fancy staying where there’s been a mur—totally accidental death.”
“What kind of house?” Verity asked.
“Oh, I don’t know. Someplace with gold leaf all over the water closets and enormous Corinthian columns in the foyer, so everyone will know we have no class.”
And so everyone would know they weren’t trying to play by the rules. “The ton will be disappointed if we don’t have a replica pyramid in the garden.”
“You make a good point.” Ash came forward and sat on the edge of her desk. He twisted one of her loose strands of hair and fixed it in place with a pin he drew from his pocket. Which was pretty rich coming from a man who had the better part of a hay stack tangled in his hair, but Verity wasn’t complaining.
“Come here,” she said, pulling him down by the collar for a kiss.
“Anything for you, Plum,” he said, and brought his lips to hers.
