The worried look on his face made Veronica wonder just what sort of man his father was. “What would he do?” she’d asked, half afraid to hear the answer.
Sebastian had shuddered. “I hope I don’t find out.” He’d stood and bowed to her. “Nice talking with you, Lady Veronica.”
“Please don’t call me that,” she had insisted. “Please just call me Veronica.”
That night, after gliding on air back to her room, woozy and sleepy and filled with inappropriate thoughts of her brother’s best friend, she’d pried up the floorboard. Using her letter opener, she scratched her secret on the underside of the board, then replaced it and covered it with the rug. She’d been simply unable to continue without telling someone, something. Veronica smiled to herself. All those years, the floorboard had been the only one who knew her secret.
She and Sebastian spent time together occasionally after that, though never for as long as they had that first night. He made good on his promise to teach her how to shuffle a deck of cards. He’d even taught her several games during stolen moments when he visited Justin.
It was no coincidence that she’d not found any of the gentlemen to her liking the year she came out. Or the year after that. Or the year after that. She’d searched every crowd for the one. Her perfect match. Only Sebastian never appeared. Finally, four springs after her debut, she’d been forced to take her fate into her own hands and asked Justin to invite Sebastian to dinner. If Justin had thought something odd about her request, he hadn’t said anything more than, “Capital idea, Veronica. I haven’t seen Edgefield for an age.”
By then, Sebastian’s father had died, and he’d become the duke. She knew from the papers that he was unmarried and that night when he’d come to dinner, when she was just beginning her fifth Season, she ensured she sat next to Sebastian so she could make him laugh with sardonic comments. Then, she’d carefully asked if he would be attending the Dunwoodys’ ball.
The rest of the Season had been a whirlwind. Sebastian had come to call the day after the ball. He’d brought her a new deck of playing cards instead of the predictable flowers the other suitors had sent, lining the foyer, and she’d remained smitten ever after.
Three months later, Veronica had married Sebastian with all the love in her heart. Even after the incident with his mother and their talk afterward, their first weeks as a married couple were pure bliss. In those first two months, she’d never known such happiness could exist.
And then she received the note from Melissa.
And Sebastian admitted he lied to her.
Veronica stared at the floorboard. She knew. She’d always known, even as a fifteen-year-old girl. She loved him. And Justin had been exactly right. She’d been so worried she’d chosen the wrong man, she didn’t realize she’d chosen the right one. She’d let her fear, the fear she’d felt all those years of listening to her father’s lies, overtake her the moment Sebastian admitted to a lie. The fear had told her his lie was unforgivable.
But the fear was wrong. He had lied, but he didn’t have a history of lying. He wasn’t her father, and Sebastian’s lie wasn’t unforgivable. It was understandable once she considered all the facts. The unforgivable thing had been her behavior. She’d been selfish and unbending, quick to judge and arrogant. Instead of pushing her husband away, she could have sought to understand what happened. She’d jumped to the worst conclusion about him and refused to either understand or forgive.
Grandpapa’s words echoed in her aching head. Once you’ve got that partner at your side, it’s up to you to keep them there. And the same for your partner, by making the choice every day to love and to accept love. She hadn’t really listened when her grandfather had said those words. She’d been far too certain of herself, far too convinced she was right and Sebastian was wrong. But now she understood. She understood just how wise those words were and just how wrong she had been.
Justin said she’d chosen to be unhappy. He was right, too. She’d chosen the last two years of misery by pushing her husband away and refusing to listen to him, too frightened of being wrong to realize she’d had true love in her hands the entire time. She’d used her moral superiority to reject happiness. And now it was too late. Oh, it couldn’t be too late. Could it?
She stood again and lifted the lamp, carrying it to the writing desk with her. She let out a frustrated breath and shook her head. A letter was not good enough. If she were Sebastian and received a letter under these circumstances, she wouldn’t read it. She’d toss it into the fire immediately. She wasn’t about to wait for tomorrow and try to pay him a call just to have him refuse her, either. She needed to go when she knew he’d be home. Perhaps she could—
Wait. That was it. The perfect idea struck her. Grabbing the lamp once more, she rushed to the door of her bedchamber and pulled it open before racing down the corridor to her brother’s room. She must wake Justin immediately. She had a plan, and it was grand.
Chapter Twenty
Sebastian had been staring at the blasted sheet of vellum for what felt like hours. He’d tried to write the letter absolving Veronica from their marriage, but it all came out sounding like a lot of gibberish. Perhaps he’d do better explaining it to her in person. Only that would mean he’d have to pay her a call and that would mean she’d have to accept his call. He plunked the quill back into the inkpot and dropped his forehead onto his hand. When had it all become so complicated? A wry smile touched his lips. When he’d agreed to see his wife again and to spend nearly a fortnight with her, that’s when.
He stood and turned to stare at his bed. Perhaps he should try to get some sleep. Perhaps he’d find the correct words in the morning. He’d barely taken a step when a loud thump met his ears, followed soon after by small clicking noises…at his window?
He strode over to look out the window that faced the street, but he couldn’t see anything. The panes were covered in foggy ice. The clicking sounds continued. He made his way back to the writing desk, where he grabbed his letter opener from a drawer and returned to chip away at the ice on one pane. He also used the side of his arm, warm against his dressing gown, to rub at the window. The inconsistent clicks continued and when he’d finally cleared away enough of the ice to see out, he saw…pebbles. A small group of pebbles lying in the snow on the roof beneath his window. The moon was bright enough to make them out. But what in the world had that loud thump been? He pulled open the window and stuck out his head and shoulders, bracing his hands against the sill and squinting into the darkness.
The top of a wooden ladder was barely visible along the roofline in front of his window. What in the…? He watched in disbelief as Veronica’s dark head came into view. She looked terrified and was clinging to the ladder as if she would never let go.
Sebastian scrambled onto the snowy roof wearing nothing more than his dressing gown. He slid over to the top of the ladder and grabbed her, hauling her onto his lap in one swift movement. “Veronica, what are you doing? You could kill yourself in this snow and ice.” His voice sounded harsher than he’d meant it to, but fear had made it sharp.
“I…I know,” came Veronica’s shaky reply. Her teeth chattered and besides not wearing a hat, he realized she wasn’t wearing a coat or anything other than a shift and a dressing gown herself.
“Have you lost your mind?”
“Yes,” she replied, nodding vigorously. “I have.”
Pulling her with him, he clawed his way through the snow back to the window and pushed her through before tumbling inside himself and closing the window to keep out the freezing air. She shivered and shook off the snow, then rubbed her hands together, watching him warily as if she expected him to toss her back out the window at any moment.
“Where did you get pebbles in all this snow?” Sebastian asked, shaking the snow off himself.
“I don’t know,” she replied, still shivering. “Justin gave them to me.”
Sebastian stalked to the bed and pulled off a quilt. He quickly brought it to her and wrapped it around her. “Come stand by the fire,” he said, gently steering her in that direction with a hand at her back. “And tell me what in God’s name you think you were doing.”
