She was biting her lip, worrying it through his words. As he pondered a potential need to clarify something to reassure her she could do as she liked, she spoke up before he could.
“I like my independence. I do like to speak, you know this. But I also like my life. My habits and my talents deserve their time and attention. While I should like to do my part in running the household, I like to attend as many social functions during the season that I can and I don’t like to be told what to do.”
Dominic listened to her quick rush of words. Something about them sounded a little rehearsed. Did she worry about him? His heart stopped as he wondered about her own parents, and if she knew about his parents.
“Very well.” He swallowed. Distracting himself by resuming eating his supper, he gave it a moment to consider how to answer. “You will have the carriage to use at your expense for any activity. I am not much for such affairs, but if you should like me present on occasion, I will oblige.”
“Oh. Truly?” She sounded surprised.
“With proper notice provided.”
“I will take that into consideration. And you won’t mind if I am out often?”
He opened his mouth, paused and then said, “As long as you are being respectable. I will not entertain any dalliances, and I would appreciate the same respect. Are there certain functions you prefer to attend?”
“Oh, all of them,” she said while waving her hand. Then she put her hand down, and their fingers brushed. The contact was warm, like the first spark of a flame. She jumped as he clenched his fork. “I… I simply enjoy being around people. Society. There is so much to do in London; I don’t wish to miss out on the season. I enjoy the chaos and excitement, the people and the festivities.”
Thinking of the ball he attended with her, Dominic questioned her words. He recalled her standing in the corner with her sisters. The way she lit up when the gossip journal came out.
But he didn’t say a word about it, of course. The tinging in his hand where she touched him was too distracting to say anything at all.
CHAPTER 10
“The question is, do we think that Lady Rachel meant to injure her cousin, or did she mean to flirt with him?” Verity muttered to herself while drumming her nails on the writing desk.
It was a question she’d been considering most of the evening.
Unable to remain seated, she paced about her bed chamber. The hour was late after she’d attended a soiree that evening. Her eyes ached with the need for sleep. But she hadn’t put out a journal this week and she needed to get this sent as soon as possible. All she needed was one final section…
The problem is that it wouldn’t matter if Mr. Courtney wasn’t up for a seat in the House of Commons. And there’s chatter about him potentially marrying a daughter of a duke. If I mention this, everyone will know who I am talking about even if the name isn’t stated outright. Will this hurt his chances? Is that a risk I’m willing to bear? I don’t like that, the consequences that I cannot control.
Verity still couldn’t settle after ten minutes of circling her room. It was a large chamber beautifully laid out in creams and a soft yellow. She’d added a few hints of green that complimented the space. It was partitioned into three large spaces––and it still wasn’t enough for her.
“I think it will fit perfectly before the broken engagement of the Porter daughter,” Verity decided aloud, “so I cannot waste the space. I need this. But what am I to do?”
The room didn’t answer. Deciding she needed more air, Verity tied her dressing gown a little tighter and then took a candle out of the room. She had only been married three days now. Everything felt new and she was hopeful the unfamiliarity could boost her thinking process.
“Verity?”
“Oh!” She rounded a corner to nearly fall right into him.
How silly that would be, to trip into him again. Just like the day they met. One of them settled on her elbow, beneath the candle, to hold her steady when her footing wavered. Her eyes settled on his upper arms for a moment seeing how thick they were, how strong they could keep her up when she nearly fell.
“Are you well?”
She blinked. “I… I beg your pardon, Your Grace. I wasn’t looking where I was going.”
“It can be difficult in the dark.” He leaned forward. “Is something amiss? Where were you going?”
Verity swallowed. She blinked. And she tried to come up with a lie. Her mouth opened and closed. It wasn’t as though she could tell him about the journal. No, that was her secret. He would be horrified to know. He would force her to stop. Her fingers clenched so hard around the candle holder than her hand shook.
His grip on her elbow tightened. “Are––”
“I’m all right.” She forced her voice to lighten. “I am afraid I was doing some woolgathering.”
“In the halls?”
“It’s as good a place as any. Speaking of which, what are you doing out here?” Verity hastily turned it back to him. Surprise shone in his eyes, and she counted it a point to herself from having grown up with so many siblings.
