He coughed and took a healthy sip of his whisky, thinking he needed to change the course of their conversation at once. “How are your orphans at the Children’s Foundling Hospital?”
Verity smiled. “Little Emma is learning to read, and I’m ever so pleased for her. The child is such a delight. Sometimes I find myself wishing that I could take her under my wing.”
“You know that a single young woman cannot take in a child,” he reminded her gently.
He knew that Verity had a soft heart. If she’d had her way, she would have brought every child home to live with her. She would have given them the clothing she wore, the jewels at her throat, anything and everything.
“Of course I know it,” Verity agreed. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t wish that my circumstances had turned out differently. If I had been able to marry Leo, we could have had half a dozen children beneath our roof by now.”
The sadness in her voice was marrow-deep. Not for the first time, Everett wished there was something he could do, some way to ease the pain his sister felt at the loss of the man she loved. Life could be so terribly unfair. With her love of children, Verity would have made a wonderful mother.
“I am sorry you were denied the future you should have known together.” He reached for her, patting her hand in the only comfort he knew how to give. “You would have been a perfect wife and mother.”
Verity sniffled, clutching at the golden locket that never left her. “Thank you. I do believe that is one of the nicest things you’ve ever said to me, even if it is likely born of pity.”
“I can assure you it’s not. Only think of what you have done for the little souls at the Children’s Foundling Hospital.”
She gave him a weak smile. “I’m afraid my motives are hardly altruistic. I enjoy the time I spend with them. They give me the sense of purpose I require in the absence of a family of my own.”
He sipped from his whisky, broaching a subject he rarely discussed with her. “You are only eight-and-twenty, you know. There is yet time aplenty for you to marry and begin a family.”
“No.” She shook her head, compressing her lips. “I cannot bear the thought. No one else shall ever compare to my Leo.”
He supposed he should be relieved that Verity wasn’t setting her cap at Kingham after they had been so cozy at the ball. But it still didn’t sit well with Everett to see his beloved sister alone, dressing in mourning weeds for the last ten years.
“You are too young to surrender your future to the past,” he told her.
“Some would say I’m a spinster at my age. Far too long in the tooth to marry now.”
“Those people would be bloody fools.”
Verity patted his coat sleeve affectionately. “You are ever my champion, and I do love you for it, even if you are sometimes a blustery old bear.”
He snorted. “I’m hardly so ancient, and I haven’t nearly sharp enough teeth to be a bear.”
His sister drank from her tumbler, watching him over the rim as she sipped her whisky. The frankness in her gaze made him want to look away, to hide. He disliked being dissected.
“You have certainly been rather like a bear recently,” she said at last. “Indeed, you have been positively beastly to poor Sybil.”
He stiffened at the mention of his wife, who was never far from his thoughts anyway. “I am a faithful husband to her.”
He was also desperately, foolishly enamored of her. In love with her. With each passing day, it seemed that he only wanted her more, no matter how hard he tried to remain impervious to her.
“Do you not wish for something more?” Verity asked quietly.
“Verity,” he began in a warning tone, not wanting to discuss the state of his marriage to Sybil yet again.
It hadn’t escaped his notice that his wife had somehow managed to win the trust and devotion of not just his sister, but his mother as well. He couldn’t bear to informMamanof Sybil’s betrayal, but Verity knew, damn her. She knew, and she had befriended Sybil anyway. That knowledge rather smarted, but he had no wish to be an ogre, so he held his tongue on the matter.
“You love her,” Verity said, willfully ignoring him.
He gripped the armrest of his chair. “This isn’t a grand romance like the one you shared with Lord Leopold. I married Sybil because I required an heir, and she married me to escape her father’s clutches. That is all.”
“Is it?”
He released a heavy, irritated sigh, shooting his sister a look of aggrieved annoyance. “I don’t wish to speak of this.”
“Then you shouldn’t have invited me to drink whisky in the library with you.”
