And there he was.Lucas.Front and centre of her mind, looking at her with those sensual eyes of his.
He’d been the first man she’d met who had caused any kind of reaction in her. The ones her parents had paraded in front of her were either old, stupid, or both. Of course she understood that she was expected to marry well, but surely there were other men out there who could do more than stare at her budding assets—and lick their lips?
They made her shudder with distaste and resolve never to wed.
And then she met Sir Lucas Ashcombe.
What a night that had been.
The usual evening affair, empty conversation, uninteresting food, and poor-quality wine. The guests had been an odd mix of the titled gentry, the newly wealthy, and those who bridged the gap between them.
But the tall man with the unusual amber-flecked dark eyes who looked at her...he was none of those, she knew. His smile was pleasant, his manner equally so, and when he asked for the next dance with a slight curve of his lips...she tumbled head over heels in love.
They’d danced, and talked a little, mundane chit-chat, was she enjoying the evening, had he read the latest Samuel Oakleynovel... Their time together had been so short, she had barely a moment to ask about his new financial discoveries, a matter close to her heart even then. And when she did? He’d replied. Calmly answered her questions. It was the first time she’d had such a conversation, and she was thrilled at the thought of continuing it.
Perhaps the next time they met.
She had eagerly awaited that moment, recalling his smile, the warmth of his hand. But then the rumours began filtering through the all-powerful gossip network.
Sir Lucas Ashcombe had left Arcvale for good.
His mother had passed away, and some said his heart was broken. Others said his brother, Silas, had kicked him out. His father was distraught and already making plans to move away to Thornemar, the lovely island in Brassmere Deep, where only the wealthy could afford to live.
The Ashcombe family had splintered upon the death of the woman who must have held it all together.
And Lucas had never been seen in Arcvale since that time...until now.
Not quite ten years, ten long years, had gone by since Verity had sighed over a man. She’d been barely seventeen then.
His departure seemed to be a pivotal moment in her life, because not long after that, George Yardley offered for her hand and was instantly accepted. By her parents.
For herself? She had no say in the matter. Within months she was married, a wife, now Lady Verity Yardley, complete with all the baggage that accompanied a title and a husband. She had quickly learned to manage a household, since her mind was organised and her husband gave her free reign.
He was, all things considered, not an unkind man. His age probably accounted for it, since he had lost his first wife five years before, and apparently hadn’t thought much about findinganother, until the question of his properties and holdings came into question by a greedy relative. The suggestion of marriage found favour, and there was Verity, intelligent, attractive, and available.
A decent settlement was agreed upon, and the wedding was attended by many respectable families. Most agreed she’d made a good match and would probably give George a son to inherit his father’s name and estate. She had done her wifely duty, finding the business...well, not too unpleasant, and over quickly.
Yes, she’d been lucky, she knew now. She’d found a measure of gentleness and kindness, virtues that she now knew were a great deal more valuable than a fortune. She’d not found love, or passion, but at this point in her life, regarded those as emotions better left alone.
And yet...
Lucas’s face swam before her eyes once more.
Dear God, ifhetouched her like that...staring at her as he did so...
Her body quickened and she sucked in a harsh breath. This was absurd—ridiculous, she told herself. Lucas had his reasons for returning, she was sure. And if she tried to fool herself into thinking she’d been one of them, then she was asking for trouble.
“So,” she said out loud, “Don’t be an idiot, Verity Turner. And get out of bed. You have business to attend to, things a great deal more important than mooning over a man.”
She slid out from beneath the covers and reviewed her day ahead.
She had to discover why a transaction was ‘pending’, and she needed to see Alastair Pembroke, because he was the only person she knew of who could tell her why.
Although it was also likely that a certain Ashcombe could probably answer that question as well...
Chapter Ten
Alastair Pembroke looked up at the sound of his front doorbell. He’d been deeply immersed in a new set of calculations, and the interruption wasn’t welcome.
