His gut churned. Although he’d barely admitted it to himself, a part of him had always held onto the absurd hope that if he could somehow make her believe that he’d never been unfaithful, she’d forgive him for his single lie, and everything could go back to the way it was. Ha. What a fool he’d been. None of that mattered when she didn’t love him. Perhaps now he could finally get it through his thick skull he simply was not a man who inspired love. As if his mother, who couldn’t stand the sight of him, hadn’t made that point crystal clear his entire life.
He no longer gave a bloody damn what the ton thought of him, either. Abandoned by his wife? The unlovable duke? What did it matter? He could do what his father did…take a score of mistresses, lavish them with gifts, forget all about the woman whom he’d once married, so full of senseless hope that things might be different from his parent’s marriage.
But even as he had that thought he knew he wouldn’t do it. He didn’t want a score of mistresses. He wanted only Veronica. But he’d never had her. Not really. He would have to convince her that divorce was the best option. The blasted title demanded an heir and staying married to her like this would be unbearable. Not when he loved her so damned desperately, he wondered if he’d ever be able to take a full breath without pain again. And he couldn’t damn her to a solitary life of misery. She deserved better than that.
In the meantime, Hazelton and the rest of the blowhards in Parliament would have to accept that his wife wasn’t at his side tomorrow night. Or any of the nights that followed. Because Sebastian intended to tell only the truth from now on. A lie had got him into one horrible mess in his life. He would not utter any more of them. He’d tell Hazelton and all the rest of them the truth. His wife had left him. She refused to return from the countryside. She hated him. They’d all find out the truth, eventually. It might as well come from his own mouth.
Sebastian tossed back the covers and lunged out of bed. Who was he kidding? He couldn’t sleep. Not tonight. He’d write her a letter, post it to Edgefield Hall. No doubt she’d run back there as soon as she could, nursing her poor opinion of him. He’d tell her he’d grant her a divorce. She’d be relieved that he’d solved their problem.
He stomped to his writing desk on the far side of the room and slid into the chair in front of it. Then he pulled out a sheet of vellum and grabbed the quill from the inkpot. Sebastian took a deep breath. Might as well get started ending this misbegotten marriage once and for all.
Chapter Nineteen
Veronica couldn’t sleep. Even after three glasses of wine and a splash of brandy, she was wide awake. In fact, she was convinced she might never sleep again. Justin had been surprised when she’d asked for his help. Not that he’d been particularly helpful. “I don’t know,” he’d replied solemnly, shaking his head, “but whatever you do, I suggest it be grand and convincing.” Then her brother had retired for the evening, adding only cryptically, “When you think of something, let me know. I’ll help.”
Convincing, she was certain she could accomplish, But, grand? What was that supposed to mean? At the moment, there was a storm outside, so her grand plans would have to wait. It was just as well it was storming, however, because she didn’t have any plan, grand or otherwise.
She could write Sebastian a letter, apologizing and admitting she’d been wrong. But would he even read the thing?
She could pay Sebastian a call tomorrow and tell him she would like to go to the Hazeltons’ ball with him after all. But would he even see her? He’d packed her up and shipped her off. What made her think he’d take her call?
She could arrive at the Hazeltons’ ball and ask him to dance. Then, she could tell him she was no longer angry with him, and in fact, she was exceedingly sorry and desperately in love with him and had made a huge, awful mistake. After all, she was desperately in love with him. And she had made a huge, awful mistake. Only the odds of him dancing with her at the ball were probably the same as him taking her call and she’d risk embarrassing him by making a scene. And that was if he even bothered to attend the Hazeltons’ ball.
Oh, perhaps she’d simply begin with a letter. It was somewhere to start at least. It might not be grand, but it was better than nothing. Wasn’t it?
Wait. She had one more rule to make, didn’t she? Her third rule could be that he had to hear her out, give her a chance to explain. No. That was nonsense. He’d already released her from the bargain. He no longer cared about their silly rules.
A letter it was.
She flung back the covers and slid out of bed, heading for the small writing desk in the corner. She’d barely gone halfway when she tripped over a lump in the rug. Ouch. Rubbing her foot, she knelt, feeling in the dark for the lump. It didn’t take long to discover that a floorboard was out of place. She’d caught her toe on it.
She made to press the board back into place when a memory overtook her. She stood again and hurried back to the bed where she lit the lamp, then returned to the floorboard. She flipped the edge of the rug out of the way and set the lamp on the floor next to the offending board. She pulled the wooden plank out of its place and flipped it over. There, scratched into the wood, were letters she’d nearly forgotten. V loves S. She’d written them nearly a decade ago as an extremely certain-of-herself fifteen-year-old after a night spent talking to Sebastian in the mews behind the town house.
He’d been nineteen then and had come over to play a card game with Justin and the grooms while her parents were hosting a ball. She’d sneaked into the stables to take a mount to the park while the ball was going on. Only instead of escaping with her horse, she’d been forced to hide in the darkness of an empty stall for what seemed like ages because she hadn’t expected her brother and his best friend to have planned a game of cards in the mews that night. She’d been trapped there until the card game disbanded. And when it finally did, she was so ready to leave she’d hurried from her hiding spot only to rush out the door and straight into none other than Sebastian.
He’d kept her from tumbling into the gravel and she’d put her finger to her lips, desperate to keep him from saying anything to give her away. She’d pulled him back into the darkened mews to hide.
“I thought everyone was gone,” she whispered.
“I’ll wait with you until it’s clear,” he whispered back, giving her a conspiratorial grin that made her insides turn to jelly.
Somehow that one brief exchange had turned into literal hours of talking. They’d ended up propped next to each other in the empty stall, picking at pieces of hay and asking and answering all sorts of questions. He’d told her about his love of horses. She’d told him about her love of painting. She’d even admitted to him she’d intended to go riding in the park after dark with no chaperone, something he could not condone, but said he understood when she explained that sometimes she felt overwhelmed and wanted to escape her life.
“I feel like that too sometimes,” Sebastian had confided.
“What do you do when you feel that way?”
“I go riding,” he said with a guilty grin. “I suppose it’s different for a young man, though as I say that I realize how terribly unfair that must seem to you.”
“Terribly,” she’d replied with a sniff. “I don’t even get to do things like play card games.”
Sebastian had frowned at that. “Why not?”
She’d rolled her eyes. “Justin would never invite his younger sister to play cards with him. Even though I’m certain I would be excellent at shuffling a deck of cards. I’ve simply never learned how.”
“I’ll show you sometime,” Sebastian had replied with a wink that Veronica had felt all the way to her toes. “I promise.”
A rooster crowing at the break of dawn had finally jolted them from their cocoon and Sebastian had quickly taken his leave saying, “Here’s to hoping my father hasn’t realized I’m gone.”
