Eyes widening, she looked at him and found herself trusting him. There was something about that dark gaze of his, so steady and alluring that she was drawn in. She leaned forward slowly without being able to turn away.
“I like to have secrets,” she admitted. “But I think it’s possible to have too many. My father had none. My mother had so many. Losing them changed everything for us. It complicated everything. If Cassian didn’t…”
“Didn’t what?”
She inhaled deeply. “If Cassian didn’t have Uncle Will, I don’t know what we would have done.”
If she had been paying more mind, Verity might have noticed how Dominic stilled. She took his silence as an invitation to go on. Her tongue felt loose and she couldn’t resist to opportunity to offload the weight on her shoulders. She pretended it was gone, out of sight and out of mind, while always knowing it was haunting her.
A lump formed in her throat as she went on to say, “He was a good man. A good uncle. Cassian didn’t know what to do. Our father was so controlling he wouldn’t let him learn anything. To suddenly inherit so much was so hard on him. Uncle Will stepped in and he protected us from trouble like lenders and liars and other schemers. He protected our family name, he made certain we had better tutors and clothing and… He taught me to love reading, to love writing. We would spend afternoon tea quoting Shakespeare together. It still hurts knowing every day he is no longer here after all he did to help us, to care for us.”
“I cannot imagine the pain,” Dominic murmured.
Eyes burning, she could hardly see straight anymore. Though she meant to drain her glass so it wouldn’t be in her hands any longer, she realized he had taken it and set it down. It was already empty.
With such strong emotions already clutching Verity, she had to say just a few more words. Just so Dominic would surely understand. “He really was a good man, Dominic. The bestuncle. My siblings and I loved him and I know he adored us in return. I… I just don’t understand how we lost him. He was a healthy man.”
A healthy man. She thought about this often. Or she used to, before her gossip journal consumed her time and a surprise marriage came into place.
Inhaling, Verity stammered through her explanation, “If anything, he was always urging us to take better care of ourselves. He was up and going to suddenly suffer a heart attack never set right with me. But the pain has lingered so long and I know I should be finished mourning, but it still hurts. I just wish I’d been able to say goodbye, that we’d made time for a viewing or… Does that make sense? Dominic?”
She was wiping away shy tears, scrubbing at her face, when she realized he wasn’t about to say anything. For some reason she thought he might.
Silence settled between them. Between her blurry vision, she realized he wasn’t looking at her. Her husband’s face was turned away into the fire.
Exhaustion swept over Verity. That had to be it, because she didn’t understand why she would feel a new tension in the air otherwise. She sniffled, wondering if she had complained too much. Neither of them said a word of it as she rubbed her eyes.
“I’m sorry,” Verity said at last, feeling guilty and embarrassed. Too many emotions swept over her to stay in control any longer.Tears filled her vision and this time she couldn’t make them stop. “I shouldn’t have rambled. I ruined this evening. All I wanted was some time alone with you somewhere quiet. After such a nice ball, it should have… I’m terribly sorry, Dominic. Perhaps I drank too much. I don’t usually. Drinking makes me sentimental and sad, you see, and I try not to think about sad things like Uncle Will. Only… losing him after our parents felt like I was losing everything. And it hurt so terribly.”
Her next breath was ragged as Verity crumpled in on herself, wishing she didn’t feel this heartache. Wishing she was alone. Wishing she hadn’t said a word to Dominic.
CHAPTER 21
Dominic reached for Verity, made a angel by the golden glow of the fire, without thinking. Seeing her cry unfurled something within his chest. Tight and loose and needing to protect her, he had to help.
The pillows littered about the ground were out of the way. It allowed him to close the distance between them. Knees brushed as he gently took her face in both hands.
“I’m sorry,” Verity whispered through stuttering breaths. “Perhaps I, I drank too much.”
The punch at the ball was much too watered down, but she’d enjoyed her glass of brandy quickly. Yet he didn’t smell the alcohol on her words when she talked to him.
“You don’t need to be ashamed of your tears,” he murmured.
She was warm to the touch. The world disappeared as he used his thumbs to delicately wipe away the tears from her cheeks. He had little experience in touching others like this and found himself determined to do this right. His hands swallowed much of her fine features and then, even as the tears stopped coming, he found himself holding her.
How close they were. He didn’t think he was breathing any longer. Unable to look away, Dominic studied his wife with more care than he’d ever given another soul.
He had felt compassion before, but something about seeing Verity now drew something stronger through his insides. Strength reverberated through his soul as he sought to protect her. The energy through him surged. It started deep in his stomach, rising through his ribs and tingling the back of his spine.
The thoughts in his mind softened into sensations. The warm fire, the coolness of her tears wet on his fingers, and the quiet and uneven breaths Verity made while she struggled to pull herself together. She’d closed her eyes when she teared up and had yet to look back at him.
Maybe that made this moment easier.
Ladies and their tears have never stirred me before now, but Verity… If only I could keep her tears from falling ever again.
Dominic stopped thinking as he leaned forward. The gesture was more innate than conscious.
His lips brushed her forehead tenderly, just a whisper of a touch. Just enough to sense her. From her brow he dipped down to her cheek where he could taste the sweet salt of her tears.
