That—Veronica had hoped—had been an end to it. Only it hadn’t been an end to it, after all. He’d broken his word. Barely two months into their marriage. Broken it and then lied about it. Veronica had been devastated the night Sebastian had finally admitted to going to Melissa’s town house. He’d promised. And that was why she couldn’t trust him.
He may have held her hand and said he wanted her by his side, but nothing had changed between them. He only wanted her there as a partner for social obligations. He couldn’t change the past…liars were liars…there was no future for them.
Chapter Twelve
Sebastian woke the next morning to a pounding head. After he’d left their bedchamber last night, he’d made his way down to Whitmore’s study and helped himself to a few too many glasses of brandy. It was unlike Sebastian to drink to excess, and he wasn’t proud of himself. But then again, he’d been doing many things lately that were unlike him. Not the least of which had been to try to reason with his wife, who he already knew damn well was unreasonable.
He pushed himself up to a sitting position and glanced over to find her side of the bed empty. It wasn’t a complete surprise. She’d been sleeping peacefully when he’d crawled back into bed in the wee hours of the morning. No doubt it was later than he’d expected to sleep.
A piece of paper on her pillow caught his eye. He nearly hadn’t seen the white slip against the white fabric. He grabbed it and, rubbing one palm over his eye, read the curt note.
Sebastian,
Please don’t mistake last night for anything more than it was. The fulfillment of a bargain.
Veronica
White hot anger filled his mind, and he crumpled the note in his palm and threw it across the room. Don’t mistake, she’d written. The fulfillment of a bargain? Did fulfilling a bargain involve her panting his name in his ear? Did her thighs tremble from his touch because of an agreement? Did her fingernails dig into his shoulders because of a bloody bargain? All this time, she’d accused him of being a liar. Well, she was one too. Because it was a damned lie that she had only been fulfilling a bargain when they’d made love both times yesterday. How dare she act like it was anything less?
The woman had had an excellent time in bed with him and she refused to admit it. Sebastian stood and paced across the room, scrubbing a hand through his hair. He wanted to punch the wall. Instead, he stalked to the wardrobe and rang for Chadwick. He was going for a ride.
Two hours and several miles later, Sebastian galloped back toward the stables atop Ronan, one of Whitmore’s finest horses. Sebastian was no longer angry. The brisk December air and long ride had done what it always did for him…made him see reason. The note wasn’t Veronica’s fault. It was his.
Veronica had never pretended to be anything more than she truly was…a carefully raised young lady, who’d been looking for a husband on the marriage mart. She was familiar with him, since he’d been Justin’s closest friend. He was titled and rich and not difficult on the eyes—if he said so himself. It was no wonder she’d assumed he would be a perfectly fine husband for the type of marriage most of the ton enjoyed. One of shared responsibilities and social obligations. He’d tried to offer her that life again last night. She clearly wasn’t interested.
But he was the one who insisted on trying to make their marriage into something it wasn’t, a true partnership. He was the one who’d put her on a pedestal, tried to make her into something she wasn’t and probably never could be, a loving, trusting wife. He’d hoped for more than a shallow marriage based on family blood lines and dowries changing hands. He’d hoped for something more than what his parents had had. A loveless marriage in which his mother had loved neither his father nor himself. Sebastian had thought he’d found that different type of wife in his best friend’s sister, a girl he’d known since he was young. A girl who had always laughed at his jests and told some excellent ones of her own. A girl who smiled shyly at him when they were young, and who had blossomed into a beautiful, composed young woman who met every criterion to be a perfect duchess. But also (or so he dreamed) would truly love him and be a partner…want him by her side, in her bed at night. And they’d lived in that dream for a short time. A brief time. It had ended when she’d turned on him after one mistake. Turned on him and refused to listen to his side of the story. Veronica wasn’t a loving, trusting wife. She was as cold and heartless as his mother. She was just another woman who never loved him. And he couldn’t blame her. The memory of the night she’d come to his bedchamber in London and asked him to join her here for Christmastide flashed through his mind. Veronica had flinched when he’d said, “You want me to come to Christmastide at Whitmore Manor and pretend that we are still in love?” Proof that she’d never loved him. Clearly, he was…unlovable.
He needed to stop living in a dream. Reality might be harsh, but he’d never been one to shy away from it. He wouldn’t start now. He’d fulfill his end of the bargain by staying ’til Boxing Day. Then Veronica could return to the country for all he cared until the Twelfth Night ball. They could attend the event together, adept at pretending to be happy, and then go their separate ways once more. Neither of them with any more illusions about the other. Exactly the way it had been for the past two years.
And he knew one thing for certain, born of his anger at her note. He would not touch her again. Not unless she initiated it.
Veronica barely heard a word Grandpapa said. He’d been speaking to her for several minutes about the gift he’d made for Grandmama for Christmas, but Veronica’s thoughts were too preoccupied with what had happened with Sebastian last night. He’d been angry when he’d left the bedchamber. And he was probably even more angry now that he’d no doubt awoken and read her note. She’d been angry too when she’d written it. Angry that he’d been able to break down her defenses in so short a time and make her wild with wanting him again.
The man was a liar and a cheater. Was she such a wanton that she couldn’t control herself around him for one day? Yes, she’d agreed to share his bed, but she hadn’t agreed to enjoy it so thoroughly. She already regretted the harsh words she’d written, but it was too late to sneak back into the room and retrieve them. She heard his voice in the next room speaking to Mama. Sebastian was awake and having breakfast. That meant he’d already read her note.
Veronica had awoken early and met Grandpapa in the conservatory for a stroll through the lilies before he got tired and asked to go sit in the drawing room, which is where they were now. She intended to spend as much time as possible with her grandfather. After all, that’s why she’d dragged Sebastian here. It was why they were playacting to begin with, to make Grandpapa’s last holiday a special one. She shouldn’t have spent so much time with Sebastian yesterday. Especially not in bed. It only confused things.
She shook her head to clear it of thoughts of her husband and returned her attention fully to her beloved grandfather. “I’m certain Grandmama will love it,” she said, smiling at the thought of her grandmother being gifted a wooden box with mementos from the summer she met Grandpapa stashed inside. He had explained that he’d been going through an old box of things and found a handkerchief she’d given him with a sprig of lavender embroidered on it, a small lock of her dark hair, and a thin gold chain she’d worn around her neck the night they met.
“When you get older,” Grandpapa continued, “you find you want more things that really matter and fewer things just for the sake of having things. That’s why I never buy your grandmother jewelry. She told me many years ago she didn’t want it.”
Veronica laughed. “That sounds like Grandmama.”
“And here I thought she loved all those gaudy expensive baubles I’d been buying her.” He shook his head. “You know what she told me?”
“What?” Veronica asked, leaning forward in her seat to watch her grandfather’s animated face. He looked so happy and…fit.
“She said she’d give them all back and then some for more years with me.” He shook his head and smiled.
A sharp pain tugged at Veronica’s heart and unwanted tears welled in her eyes. Before she could stop herself or grab her handkerchief, the blasted tears began streaming down her face.
“There, there now, dear.” Grandpapa reached out and patted Veronica’s knee. “I didn’t mean to make you cry. What’s wrong?”
“N…nothing,” Veronica insisted as she accepted the handkerchief he’d pulled from the pocket of his coat. Even at his advanced age, the man remained a true gentleman. She dabbed at her eyes, hating herself for crying in front of her grandfather when it was her sole mission to make his holiday a happy one.
“Don’t tell me it’s nothing,” Grandpapa said, “when it’s obviously something. I may be old, but I’ve got two eyes in my head.”
“It’s truly nothing,” she insisted. “I’m just so happy for you and Grandmama that after all these years, you’re still so in love.”
