Still clutching the locket in her uninjured hand, Verity closed her eyes and waited for slumber to claim her once again.
“Where is King?”Verity asked for what must have been the hundredth time during her week of convalescence.
Sybil smiled at her sister-in-law and patted her hand. “Everett said he will pay a call today. You are certainly impatient to see His Grace.”
“I love him,” Verity said simply. “We are engaged to marry.”
It was not the first time her sister-in-law had expressed the sentiment since Verity had awoken following the severe injuries she had suffered in the fire. But it was nonetheless troubling. As far as Sybil and Everett were aware, there was no such agreement between King and Verity.
The physician who had called to check on Verity’s progress had privately warned them that blows to the head could be complicated. There was a possibility that Verity’s mind had been altered by the blow. He had also emphasized that it was of the utmost import to keep Verity as calm as possible whilst she recovered, that too much excitement would be harmful for her mind and could inflict further damage.
They had taken great pains to avoid discussing the subject of Leo, Verity’s beloved dead betrothed. She had not mentionedhim once, though she had been quite vocal in her requests for Kingham. It made no sense to either Sybil or Everett, but they were willing to do anything they must to ensure that Verity healed completely.
“Of course you are, dear,” Sybil said to Verity in an agreeable tone. “Shall I ring for your lady’s maid to help with your hair?”
Some of Verity’s hair had been singed in the fire, and the wound she had suffered to the head had been so deep that it had required stitching. They had only just washed her hair for the first time today with Sybil’s help, and the process had been onerous and painful for poor Verity.
“Do you think she will be able to plait it for me?” Verity asked. “King prefers it when I wear my hair in a Grecian braid.”
“I’m not certain,” Sybil answered honestly. “It may not be good for the cut on your head.”
“Then I shall wear it down,” Verity decided. “King shan’t mind if I’m scandalous. He loves me far too much.”
Misgiving curdled Sybil’s stomach, but she smiled brightly for her sister-in-law’s benefit. “Yes, dearest. Now, we should make haste. I believe His Grace is calling soon.”
“I have missed him so.” Verity beamed.
For the first time, it occurred to Sybil that she wasn’t wearing her customary black mourning. She had spent the last week in dressing gowns, but today was her first occasion to finally dress. The gown she had chosen was a pale lavender, one suited to a younger woman.
Sybil wondered if it was a residual from her debutante wardrobe but held her tongue. There was something…different about her sister-in-law since her injury in the fire. But none of them could quite settle their minds on what it was, and likewise, no one wanted to question Verity or upset her and hinder her recovery.
“Come then, my dear,” Sybil said brightly. “We shall go to the drawing room and await Kingham’s arrival.”
King had donemany bad things in his life.
In fact, helikeddoing bad things.
When one had a fortune at his disposal and all the tremendous éclat and power that being the Duke of Kingham brought with it, there was almost nothing left in the world to conquer. Even bedding women had long since become a scarcely thrilling diversion.
It made no sense, therefore, that he had done a good thing one week ago when he had pulled Lady Verity Saunders from the flaming wreckage of an orphanage. King didn’t make heroic gestures. He didn’t put himself at risk. He didn’t engage in any exertion that would ruin his clothes, which were always tailored to perfection.
And it further made no sense that he was presently strolling into the drawing room at Riverdale’s town house at the behest of the same lady he had carried out of the burning orphanage.
But here he was, bowing to Lady Verity, who gazed at him with such naked adoration that he had to blink, thinking he was mistaken.
He wasn’t mistaken.
The only time he’d ever seen a woman look at him thus previously, it had been after he had given her three orgasms in a row using nothing more than his mouth.
“King,” she greeted him softly. “I have missed you.”
She had?
He folded his frame into a waiting chair with far less elegance and grace than he ordinarily possessed.
“I have missed you as well, my dear lady,” he said smoothly.
She beamed. And Christ but she was lovely, her dark hair spilling around her shoulders in what looked to be natural curls. She was wearing pale purple today, and the color complemented her creamy complexion ever so much more than her customary black silks did. She was also Riverdale’s sister, he reminded himself sternly.
