Grandpapa nodded sagely. “We are,” he said simply. “But it was quite a lot of work.”
Veronica frowned. “What do you mean?”
“I mean love is something you choose to do every day. It’s not something that’s just lying around like a timepiece that you can stick in your pocket and keep for sixty years.”
She cocked her head to the side and stared at her grandfather as if he’d taken leave of his senses. “I don’t understand.”
Grandpapa sighed. “I suppose you don’t.” He reached over and covered her small icy hands with his large, warm ones. “Listen to me, V. Love is an action. It’s something you do…something you choose to do. It’s a decision.”
Veronica swallowed. Her throat was still clogged. She still didn’t understand. “Yes, but you and Mama always told me that choosing the right partner to begin with is the most important part.”
Grandpapa pressed his lips together. “That’s true. And your Mama…unfortunately, she chose poorly.”
Veronica swallowed hard. They’d also told her that a spouse who cheats would always cheat. They’d stressed the importance of choosing wisely. When she’d asked Grandpapa about Sebastian, Grandpapa had given his blessing. Yet Veronica hadn’t even known Sebastian had a mistress until after they’d wed. She’d insisted he give up his mistress. And he’d agreed. But he had lied to her. She’d taken him at his word, and he’d lied to her. Just like Father had done so many times to Mama.
Veronica wanted to sob. She’d made such a mistake, and she couldn’t tell Grandpapa about it now. First, it was too late. And second, her grandfather loved Sebastian. He thought the world of him. It made her heart hurt to think about telling him the truth. She wasn’t entirely blameless. She should have asked if the man had a mistress. It had been foolish of her to assume he didn’t. But she’d let her feelings for him overwhelm her reason. She’d made the mistake, and she had to live with it. It wasn’t Grandpapa’s fault. She’d been so afraid to have an awful marriage like her parents’ instead of her grandparents’ lovely marriage. And despite her fear and the care she’d taken in waiting so long to choose a husband, she’d made the same mistake as Mama.
Veronica been tempted last night…for a few lovely moments after he’d told her he missed her, she’d been sorely tempted to believe that she and Sebastian might have a chance at happiness. But she’d known all along that had been nothing but a silly dream. He was only being nice to her because he wanted an heir and a duchess to grace his arm, and she was his only chance at either.
He insisted he had not taken Melissa to bed, but what else had he been doing at her town house that night? Paying a social call? It made little sense. He was obviously a liar. And he didn’t even have the grace to admit to it. No. Sebastian entirely denied that he’d cheated, clearly taking her for a fool.
“Once you’ve got the right partner at your side, it’s up to you to keep them there,” Grandpapa continued.
Veronica shook her head and concentrated on his words. She refused to allow her ridiculous problems with Sebastian keep her from spending time with her beloved Grandpapa.
“And your partner must do the same. You both must make the choice every day to love and to accept love. That’s what true love is,” Grandpapa finished.
Veronica smiled and squeezed his hand. His advice couldn’t help her now. She’d already made the wrong choice, married the wrong man. Her tears had dried, but she still couldn’t do it. She couldn’t tell him the truth. She didn’t want her beloved grandfather to go to his grave worried about her, knowing she’d ruined her chance at true love. True love? She sighed. It sounded quite wonderful, but it certainly wasn’t what she and Sebastian had. No. It was too late for her. She’d picked the wrong partner. An irreversible mistake.
Chapter Thirteen
The next few days passed with an alacrity that surprised Sebastian. He’d sent his footmen to and from London with some business correspondence and other tasks while using the study at Whitmore Manor—with Justin’s permission—to review the ledgers he’d brought with him, write letters, and take care of other business matters. The distraction kept his mind from his maddening wife, at least.
He’d stuck to his vow and hadn’t touched her since the night they’d first arrived, though he wanted her beyond reason. With each passing day, the temptation to put his hands on her grew stronger, but so did his determination. He refused to make love to a woman who wouldn’t even admit to enjoying it. Even for an heir. If she wasn’t with child already, he supposed some distant cousin would eventually inherit the title. At the moment, he didn’t give a bloody damn.
If she wondered why he hadn’t reached for her as they laid next to each other in bed night after night, their breathing mingling in the cold air that the hearth across the room couldn’t entirely warm, she said nothing. She hadn’t reached for him either, of course. And it was completely absurd to be disappointed by an outcome that was entirely predictable.
They were pleasant but aloof toward one another in her grandfather’s presence and walked past each other like polite ghosts when the older man was not around. They remained that way until Christmas Eve.
The tradition at Whitmore Manor was for everyone to exchange their gifts on Christmas Eve. Not on Christmas Day or Boxing Day or even Twelfth Night as other households did. Sebastian had chosen his gift for Veronica with care. He’d sent a footman back to London for it that first day. Now he wondered if it was too much. But it was already here and already wrapped. He supposed he might as well give it to her. He’d also chosen gifts for the other members of the family. A bracelet for Jessica, a book for Elizabeth, and gifts for the others each carefully selected…but none as important as the one he’d picked out for Veronica.
Her gift had been hidden in his trunk in his dressing room and now, in the magnificent drawing room, with the entire family gathered, busily preoccupied with exchanging their own gifts, he presented it to his wife. They might be in a quiet standoff, but it was Christmastide and what was the sense of letting their same old fight, the one they apparently could never resolve, keep them from a joyful holiday?
“What’s this?” Veronica asked, staring at the large box he handed her, a frown marking her brow.
“It’s a gift for you…for Christmastide,” Sebastian replied.
She glanced up at him with uncertain eyes, biting her lip. She was wearing a lovely ruby-red gown with a white satin sash along the empire waist. She looked like a Christmastide gift herself.
A smile covered his face. “Open it.”
Veronica carefully pulled at the wide red bow atop the box until it fell to the sides, and she could remove the lid. Inside was a pretty, silver-painted wooden box. She pulled it out and set it atop her lap, giving Sebastian a tentative smile. Oh, dear. She hoped it wasn’t jewelry. If it was, he needn’t have spent so much. She’d tell him so. They’d been cordial to each other for the past several days. They’d fallen into a courteous sort of détente that Veronica quite relished as a respite from their constant sniping. But she still regretted leaving that stupid note on his pillow. He hadn’t tried to touch her in days. And she certainly hadn’t expected a gift from him.
“Go ahead,” he prompted, nodding toward the box.
She carefully lifted the lid to reveal a set of paints in a variety of colors and several well-made wooden brushes of various sizes.
Veronica’s voice caught. “Paints?”
