“You really don’t need to buy us additional gifts, Justin. It’s completely unnecessary,” Veronica insisted.
“Gift,” Justin clarified. “It’s just one gift…for both of you. Call it a couple’s gift. And I insist,” he said before bowing and bounding up the steps and into his town house.
“What do you think he’s got for us?” Veronica asked as the coach pulled away into the night toward Sebastian’s town house.
“I don’t have a clue,” Sebastian replied. He watched her carefully. He’d never asked Veronica if she would stay with him in London. He’d simply assumed she would. It was sort of an unspoken part of their bargain. And now that they’d left Justin alone at his house, Sebastian supposed she was willing. She hadn’t attempted to alight at her brother’s town house as he’d been half expecting her to. But she would sleep in her own room tonight. He doubted she’d object, but even if she did, Sebastian couldn’t bear to be so near to her any longer without touching her. Whatever control he’d had while they’d been at Whitmore Manor had snapped.
When the coach pulled to a stop in front of his town house, Sebastian jumped down first and turned to help her down. She placed her gloved hand on his coat sleeve while they stoically walked up the stairs to the front door. In the marble foyer, they handed Hawthorne their coats, hats, and gloves, before Sebastian cleared his throat. “I have a few things to finish before I retire for the evening. Show the duchess to her rooms, please, Hawthorne, and ensure they are to her liking. Bring her whatever she needs.”
Hawthorne, who had been properly apprised of the arrival of both his master and mistress, was his usual efficient self. “This way, Your Grace,” he intoned. “Mrs. Holland and the upstairs maids have outdone themselves. I’m certain you’ll pleased with your bedchamber.”
Nodding, Sebastian turned toward the corridor that led to his study. Once inside the familiar room filled with bookshelves, a desk, and a conveniently stocked sideboard, he stalked over to it and poured himself a brandy. He downed the drink in nearly one gulp and then paced toward the fireplace. He’d invented the story about having something to see to before he retired so he and Veronica would be spared any awkwardness. Better to let Hawthorne and Mrs. Holland see to Veronica. Sebastian needed space. Some time to think.
It was long past midnight before he made his way to his bedchamber. Veronica’s doors were closed, both the one to the corridor and the one that connected her room to his. He had expected nothing different. But he knew well that she was there. For the first night in so long, she was in the next room. His breathing hitched. He wanted to go to her, to beg her to listen to reason, to beg her to forgive him for that one stupid lie he’d told her about not going to Melissa’s town house that night. The lie he wished like hell he could take back. The lie he’d been telling himself all this time needed no explanation. The lie he’d been a fool to utter in the first place. It seemed idiotic to him now, but somehow, back then, he’d decided telling her about the fake baby would have been worse than the actual truth.
But even if he’d wanted to explain, she’d been too angry and hadn’t given him a chance at the time. Then she’d disappeared to the country in a cloud of fury before he’d had the opportunity to try again. Perhaps he should have written or visited, attempted again to explain…but then he’d been locked in his own fog of disappointment that she would leave him so readily, without even hearing him out. But damn it, she would hear him out now!
Scrubbing a hand through his hair, he stalked to her door. This was it. He would explain it all to her and she’d have no choice but to see reason. He’d apologize. He’d ask for her forgiveness. And then he’d take her into his arms and make love to her. Show her with his fingers, and mouth, and body just what she meant to him. What she’d always meant to him.
Just as his hand reached for the door handle, he let it fall to his side. No. That was not what would happen if he explained himself. He might have made mistakes and had regrets over how he’d handled everything, but it was too late. Too much time had passed. The original argument didn’t even matter any longer. He’d let it all fester for far too long, and he was a fool to think he could change things now. If he made love to her, she’d be doing it out of obligation, not desire. And he could not bear that.
Cursing himself a hundred times, Sebastian turned on his heel and stalked back to his bed. He threw off his robe and slid under the covers. He only had to punch his pillow something like two dozen times before he finally drifted off into a fitful, uneven sleep.
Veronica paced the floor in her bedchamber. The unmistakable sound of Sebastian’s door closing had met her ears minutes ago. She’d stopped, frozen. Her room was as lovely as it had always been. The white bed on a dais in the middle of the space was covered with pristine white sheets and an assortment of fluffy blankets. The huge, downy pillows made her feel as if she was floating on clouds. Vases bearing her favorite lilies were set near the doorway, on the mantel, and on her bedside table. The room had obviously been recently scrubbed with not a fleck of dust present. It smelled like lemon wax and lilies and the drawers were still filled with the lavender sachets that had been there the day she moved in. She hadn’t been able to take them with her when she left, for fear they’d remind her of him.
Not that it mattered. Everything reminded her of him. Not just in this house but in the country as well. She’d meant to escape him and the memories of their life together. Instead, she’d only managed to go to a place that was even more like him. Edgefield Hall was grand but efficient. Impressive but understated, just like him. She hadn’t been able to resist entering the bedchamber next to hers there. The one that he would stay in when he was in residence. He’d left some things there, clothing and some odds and ends like handkerchiefs. She’d taken one from the drawer and put it under her pillow so she could sniff it and be reminded of him on the nights that seemed to drag interminably without him.
She’d gone into the nursery there, too. Even though it made her throat ache and her eyes sting with unshed tears. Mrs. Leggett had come upon her, a tender smile on her face. She’d placed a hand over Veronica’s, where it rested atop the cradle’s edge. The two women had stood there silently for minutes while Veronica mourned for a child who never existed. When she’d left that room, she’d never returned.
But now she was back in London. In a house that held only wonderful memories. Memories of the many places she and Sebastian had made love. Memories of the flowers he’d given her from the gardens in the back. Of the time he’d scooped her into his arms and carried her up to his bedchamber without breaking a sweat, kissing her the entire way before they’d made love in the center of his bed. She’d felt so close to him then, hopelessly in love. Even though she’d never had the courage to tell him.
Veronica scratched at her arms, feeling as if she wanted her own skin to come off, to be anywhere but in the predicament she was in now. She’d agreed to his terms. She’d agreed to spend the nights in bed with him, and she wanted him. But he hadn’t touched her since the day she’d written him that thoughtless note. It was her fault she was in here alone now, unable even to look forward to a baby. The chances were slight that she was already with child. They were wasting precious time. She would just stalk to his room and tell him so. He had no right to withhold a child from her. Not when he’d promised her the chance. Demanded it, actually.
Her hand was nearly on the door handle when she let it fall to her side. She was being ridiculous. She hadn’t been the one to demand her marital rights. He had. She’d pretended as if she didn’t even want them. She’d made it seem as if she was giving in to his conditions when really, all along, the thought of him taking her to bed and possibly giving her a child had been her greatest dream come true. She laughed at herself cruelly and shook her head. What would she possibly say to him if she opened that door? Would she tell him she’d been lying when she wrote that note? Would she tell him she wanted him and give him the chance to throw her vulnerability back in her face? It was nothing more than she deserved. She was a hypocrite. A hypocrite and a terrible wife.
She climbed into bed and pulled the covers under her arms, but it would be a long time before sleep overtook her.
Chapter Sixteen
Veronica woke the next morning to an aching head and a winter wonderland outside her window. She hurried over to pull back the curtains to see pure white covering every surface. The snowstorm they’d outpaced on their way back from Whitmore Manor had finally caught up to them and blanketed London in a beautiful expanse of snow, and it was still snowing.
Mary arrived to help her dress, and she chose a ruby-red gown. Sebastian’s favorite color on her. Would he remember that he’d told her that once? He’d draped her in rubies and diamonds the last time she’d worn this gown. All she’d ever wanted was him, not jewels. She asked Mary to spray her with the lily perfume, also Sebastian’s favorite. And she ensured her hair was caught up in a chignon at her nape, the informal but elegant style Sebastian liked best.
“How do I look, Mary?” she asked, while surveying her countenance in the looking glass atop her dressing table. Despite her lack of sleep, she didn’t look tired. In fact, she looked quite awake. Why precisely was she trying to attract him? She chose not to examine that question for too long.
“Like a veritable queen, my lady,” Mary replied, giving her an encouraging smile. If Mary wondered why they were at her husband’s town house in London and not back in the countryside at Edgefield Hall, she didn’t say a word. Mary had heard Veronica grousing about Sebastian on more than one occasion. No doubt the servant wondered what was going on. And Veronica would tell her. When she figured it out herself. Come to think of it, Mama hadn’t questioned the fact that she and Sebastian were going back to London together either. At the time Veronica had assumed it was because Mama didn’t want the question to seem out of place to Grandpapa, but now Veronica wondered why her mother hadn’t taken her aside to ask her why she was going back to London with her husband. Had Justin had told Mama? Veronica supposed it didn’t matter.
She swept down the main staircase, through the corridor, and into the breakfast room. A frown marred her brow when she realized the room was empty. She hadn’t admitted it to herself, but she had hoped that Sebastian would be there. One of the kitchen maids arrived, however, and brought her a cup of tea with cream and sugar and a plate of eggs, fruit, and a biscuit, as requested. She ate while reading the Times, which was a delight. In the country, the news was always old, but this news was fresh, and Veronica immediately turned to the gossip pages.
The Duke and Duchess of Edgefield are expected to attend the Hazeltons’ Twelfth Night ball.
That bit of news nearly jumped off the page at her.
One hopes the ball will not be affected by the incumbent snowstorm.
Oh, my. Sebastian was right. There was gossip. Apparently, the entire ton was awaiting their arrival at the Hazeltons’ ball. Veronica bit her lip and winced. How would it be to see her old friends? She’d let her correspondence with all but her dearest lapse while she’d been in the country. There had been too many prying questions about why she’d left and when she planned to return. She’d been so worried about Grandpapa over the last several days, she hadn’t stopped to consider how it would be in London. But now it was all she could think about. What plausible explanation would she give when people asked her why she’d been gone so long? Sebastian had mentioned something about telling people she’d been ill. Would that suffice? If not, she’d have to come up with something plausible and not easily disproved.
When she’d finished both breakfast and reading the paper, Veronica looked up at the clock on the nearby mantel only to realize it was almost noon. She’d spent the entire morning scouring the paper. And Sebastian hadn’t interrupted her. She frowned. Where was he? In his study again? Seeing to business? Wasn’t that what he always said?
