She forced herself to take a deep breath and to set her shoulders back. So a mistake had been made. She would learn. She wouldn’t drink and she wouldn’t share her truthful thoughts and feelings. Letting out her anger on him would do neither of them any good. It was best that they simply move on.
Turning her head to Dominic, she waited for him to turn to her as well. Only he didn’t. She tried not to let that deter her.
“It looks to be a lovely day,” Verity offered with that cheery tone.
“Hm? Oh, yes, I suppose so.”
She bit her tongue before asking, “Do you think perhaps you shall go for a ride today?”
“In the afternoon, I’m sure.”
“That sounds like a splendid time for a ride. We could pass along the Serpentine, before the crush arrives at the park?”
Down came the newspaper though his eyes stared off elsewhere. She leaned forward, wondering if that might draw him back. It didn’t. “I’m afraid I actually have an appointment this afternoon. I can’t miss it,” he added.
Her stomach contracted. She sliced through her sausage to cut it into smaller bites. But nothing went into her mouth. “Certainly, I understand.”
Although Verity attempted thrice more to bring Dominic into conversation, his answers were short and distant. She made a jest as well, a fine one about the nut sellers in the streets, but he didn’t laugh.
He didn’t even smile.
Every response her husband provided gave Verity proof that her charming husband wasn’t there. It was as though they’d never met before. She tried to reason with herself about his behavior but struggled to find a way to understand how she’d caused such damage.
“Shall I see you for supper?” She called when he left the room.
“I’m busy,” he answered over his shoulder. “Good day.”
Groaning silently, Verity pushed her plate out of her way and dropped her face in her hands. She’d messed up terribly.
There goes my attempt at being a passable duchess and wife. How anyone else manages this, I hardly know. But I suppose I was meant to learn to swallow my pride some way…
Over the next couple of days, Verity hoped they might return to the congenial relationship they’d begun to establish. Sightings of her husband were rare, even at the supper table where he usually took his meals.
So long as she could pretend all was well, then perhaps it would be. Or at least, it would be until one of them cracked.
And it won’t be me.
“It was the most amusing thing,” she told him one night at supper. “After Cook was done ordering and teasing, the fish peddler then told me he had never been to Bath, and where to find the town of Bucket! Isn’t that silly?”
Dominic kept his eyes on his soup. “Quite.”
Resisting the urge to scowl, Verity gripped the silverware tightly in her hands. She glared down at her bowl as though it might be the cause for all her troubles.
“It would have been sillier had he tossed his bucket of fish on my head,” she muttered sullenly.
“Indeed.”
Letting a breath hiss out between her teeth, she locked her jaw and turned to him. Verity had spent nearly a week now tip-toeing around her husband in their home. The household was responsible for managing most of their communications these days and she’d received much more insight from them than anything from him.
And she couldn’t keep doing this.
“What is that supposed to mean?” Verity demanded. “Are you talking to me in some form of code?”
The volume of her tone had risen, catching him by surprise. She only knew this was evident in the way that he finally looked her in the eye; the duke hadn’t done that in days and she doubted it was intentional.
“I beg your pardon?” His voice was terribly polite.
Like he’s talking to a stranger.
