“Read?” He blinked, surprise clearly registered on his face.
“Yes, and two of them, a boy and a girl, are having trouble learning to read. I help them.”
“You teach children to read?” He blinked more. His brow was furrowed, as if he didn’t understand what she was telling him.
An unexpected smile spread across her face. “You needn’t look so shocked. Mr. Trehorn, the schoolmaster, hasn’t the time to spend with each one of them individually. So I volunteered. I find I quite enjoy it.” She took a breath. “Then, on Wednesdays and Fridays, Mrs. Leggett and I fill baskets with loaves of bread, fruits, and medicines and we take them to the families in the village with sick or ailing members.”
“Mrs. Leggett?” Sebastian repeated.
“Yes, the housekeeper at Edgefield Hall. You remember her, don’t you?”
“Of course I remember Mrs. Leggett,” he replied. “I’m merely trying to picture you and her filling baskets with goods for the villagers.”
“Mrs. Leggett is a dear,” Veronica said, glancing back down at her periodical. He probably expected Mrs. Leggett to dislike her. But she and the housekeeper had become fast friends. Of course, it had been slightly awkward having to explain why she’d come to Edgefield Hall alone, and even more awkward when the months, then years passed without the arrival of her husband. But Mrs. Leggett made it her practice to be discreet. A quality Veronica cherished in the housekeeper. Veronica was convinced the older woman understood that the subject was a painful one for her. She appreciated the housekeeper’s steady presence and unquestioning loyalty.
“What else have you been doing?” Sebastian pressed with genuine interest in his eyes. “I hope you have had no unfortunate encounters with heights.”
Veronica snapped up her head. Why did his words make her heart pound in her chest? Because…he was referring to the night he’d asked her to marry him. They’d been courting for two months. He’d come to Justin’s town house in London. Sebastian had tossed pebbles at her second-floor window until she’d opened it. She couldn’t help her sigh. She recalled it like yesterday. The fresh June breeze had swept through her window, lifting the wisps of hair at her temples, and ruffling her white, cotton night rail. “What are you doing?” she’d called down to him.
“I need to speak with you,” he’d called back. “It’s urgent. I’ll climb up.”
“No!” she’d nearly shrieked, making him freeze.
She quickly shook her head. “I’ll come down. I’m terribly afraid of heights, you see. I won’t be able to hear a word you say if you’re balancing precariously on my window ledge.”
She’d hurried downstairs and unlocked the front door as quietly as possible, hoping no servants would awaken to witness her sneak onto the front porch. Thankfully, a large elm tree and a hedgerow covered the space in shadows. No sooner had she made it to the porch than Sebastian had captured her in his arms and pulled her into his embrace for a kiss that left her heady with longing. It wasn’t their first kiss, but the one they’d shared that night had been urgent and filled with…tension. Sebastian was nervous, something she’d never felt before from the confident man. She soon learned why.
When the kiss ended, he dropped to one knee, holding her hands in his. “Veronica Marie Kingsley Whitmoreland, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”
“Yes!” she nearly shouted before glancing over her shoulder and saying it again in a quieter voice. “Yes, of course I will, Sebastian.”
“Thank goodness,” he’d breathed. “I have every intention of asking Justin, of course, to make it official. But I wanted to ask you first…to be certain of your feelings.”
The memory made tears fill Veronica’s eyes. The look on his face had been so boyish and full of hope. He’d been so caring. So seemingly perfect. Several of her closest friends had already married, and she’d heard the stories of their betrothals over and over. But none of them, not a one, had been asked first by their beau. And certainly not in so romantic a manner. The man had been prepared to climb up to her window, for heaven’s sake.
Shaking her head to dispel the unwanted memory, she glanced at him. His gaze captured hers. The periodical slid from her lap. It hit the floor of the coach with a thump and they both leaned over to retrieve it at the same time. His warm hand brushed hers. A spark shot up her arm and a shudder made its way through her body. The lump in her throat grew larger. There had been a time when she had envisioned a full life with this man. When he had made her feel safe, loved. That dream had been dashed, but the memory of it still echoed in her heart. It made her wish for the thing she’d always wanted but knew she couldn’t have: the happy marriage her grandparents had been blessed with.
Veronica grabbed the periodical and jolted back upright into a sitting position. She mustn’t forget the man was a charmer. The romantic proposal in the moonlight? Dropping to one knee? All the lovely words he’d said… That was Sebastian, wasn’t it? He’d convinced not only her but her entire family that he adored her. She’d even believed that he loved her. But it had been little more than an act performed to elicit the desired result—her agreement to marry him—before he showed his true colors. He was merely performing his duty…securing a proper wife.
“Do you miss London, Veronica?” His deep voice snapped her from her reverie.
She twisted her head to look out the window. “I miss…” Her voice caught. She stopped and shook her head, willing herself to let go of the daydreams of the past. They weren’t real. They never had been. Sebastian wasn’t the dream husband she’d thought he was. He was a liar and a cheater. “I quite enjoy my time in the country,” she said, her voice flat.
“I see,” he replied. She felt his eyes on her, watching her closely. “I enjoy my time in London as well.” His voice was equally flat.
Veronica’s jaw clenched. She just bet he enjoyed his time in London. Especially the time he spent with his mistress. For all Veronica knew, he had more than one by now. Her nostrils flared, and she returned her attention to the periodical, ripping at the page to turn it. But she wasn’t angry at him. She was angry at herself. She’d been momentarily lulled into remembering how he’d courted her. But of course, he’d been on his best, most appealing behavior back then. He’d somehow even managed to keep up the pretense through their honeymoon phase, two entire months. But the fact remained, he’d lied to her. Lied and cheated. Only a fool forgave such things. And she was no fool. That was why she’d insisted there be no kissing. She and Sebastian might be about to spend the next several nights in bed together, but she would not fall victim to his considerable charms.
Chapter Five
Not an hour later, the coach came to a stop in front of the grand entrance of Whitmore Manor. One of Sebastian’s footmen pulled open the door and lowered the steps. Sebastian jumped down first to turn and assist Veronica. As the servants began unloading the trunks from the back of the conveyance, Sebastian braced himself against the icy wind and ushered Veronica to meet her mother, who had materialized at the front door.
Lady Margaret, the Marchioness of Whitmore, was a fine-looking woman; petite with dark hair and eyes, an older version of Veronica. Lady Margaret had always treated Sebastian with respect and kindness, even after her daughter had told her the worst about him. Of course, Sebastian didn’t know if Justin had attempted to convince his mother that her son-in-law wasn’t the scoundrel Veronica believed him to be, not that it was Justin’s task to clear Sebastian’s name. But if the older woman was angry with Sebastian, she showed no sign of it now. The widow greeted him and smiled warmly. Perhaps she was pretending, too. Perhaps everyone would be pretending this holiday.
After the niceties were exchanged, Sebastian and Veronica were ushered into the house. Inside it smelled like gingerbread, spruce, and burning wood from the many fireplaces, just like Sebastian remembered it. A wave of nostalgia for Christmastides past rolled through him. He’d always had happy times here at Whitmore Manor, much happier than any times he’d had at his own family estate.
Veronica had barely handed her hat, pelisse, and gloves to the butler before she turned to her mother with a worried expression on her face. “How is Grandpapa? May I see him?”
“He’s doing well today,” Lady Margaret replied.
