Page 13 of A Bride for the Forbidden Duke (Forbidden Lords #2)

Chapter Thirteen

“ L ady Sheridan is ready for you in the drawing room, Your Grace,” announced the footman, his hands clasped behind his back.

Veronica whirled around, having been lost in her thoughts at the second-floor window in the music room.

While it was not her favorite room in the house, for the parlor had taken that space, she found comfort and stillness here.

“Thank you,” she said.

He bowed and left the room, and Veronica walked out into the hallway, going towards the drawing room.

As she walked, she looked at the place the Duke had pressed her against only the night before and taken her as if he had been unable to restrain himself any longer. As though a passion had welled in him and after so long of avoiding her, it had snapped into that.

Moments before she approached the drawing room, the Duke appeared out of his study, and his eyes locked onto hers.

They had not spoken a word to one another since he had walked away, leaving her so aching she had hurried to her room and pleasured herself again to the thought of his wicked tongue.

She inhaled sharply now at the intention in his eyes.

“Your Grace,” she murmured, nodding her head at him.

“Duchess,” he greeted, “I thought it would be better to enter the drawing room together. It would rouse suspicion if we entered separately.”

“Indeed,” she agreed.

Her heart thumped in her chest, and her body remembered every kiss and every swipe of his tongue.

She struggled to keep down her blush. But he noticed; of course, he did.

“Shall we?” He held out his hand, and she gingerly took it.

They walked into the drawing room together.

“Lady Sheridan,” the Duke said, striding into the room with Veronica keeping pace.

She kept her face pleasant, open.

“I would like to introduce you to the Duchess of Westley, Veronica Banfield.”

Lady Sheridan turned around from where she had been surveying the gardens, a bright smile on her face.

“Your Grace,” she answered, bowing. “It is an honor to properly be introduced to you.”

“It was a hasty wedding,” Veronica said. “I am sorry you could not attend.”

Lady Sheridan cut a glare to the Duke. “Somebody could have arranged for me to be there, I assure you.”

The Duke cleared his throat, and Veronica swore she saw a hint of a smile on his face.

How strange , she thought. Strange but nice .

“Duchess, I would like you to meet Lady Sheridan, my aunt, and the Dowager Viscountess.”

Veronica curtsied to the older woman, who had kind eyes, unlike the Duke, whose gaze was often narrowed in distaste.

“I believe I saw you in passing at the Fernwell ball earlier this month.” She remembered the two befeathered women who had accosted the Duke as soon as he’d entered the ballroom.

“I regretfully must admit I do not remember seeing you, Your Grace. Did you dance a lot?”

“I did not dance at all,” she admitted.

“When one’s night still ends in a proposal,” the Duke interrupted, “then one should consider their night still advantageous, no?”

“Oh, do not get me started on that!” Lady Sheridan exclaimed. “I have not quite forgiven you for not telling me of your plans or giving me the whole story. I was quite upset. Imagine, my own nephew, depriving me of such a tale of how he proposed to his Duchess!”

“That is a private matter. I thought I had made that rather clear.”

Lady Sheridan waved him off, tutting, as they all took their seats and cakes were called to be served.

“I see you have redone the manor,” Lady Sheridan said, looking around. “It is quite different. The late Duke’s tastes were eccentric, but I did not expect you to uphold your uncle’s tastes. Certainly not because he was your father’s brother, Henry.”

“I honored his life,” he said, clearing his throat. “That is all. It is the Duchess who has been overseeing the refurbishments.”

“I do hope it is all right,” Veronica quickly cut in. “As His Grace said, it is respect we hold for the late Duke. I do hope it is not overstepping.”

“Nonsense!” Lady Sheridan smiled warmly at her. “It also helps that I am not the late Duke’s wife, of course.”

She gave her a wink, and Veronica realized her mistake of thinking that.

“The manor needed a woman’s touch, and the former Duchess was not one to have much of a say in those matters. Whenever I visit Henry, I find some of the rooms a little too overwhelming on one’s senses.”

“A little?” the Duke muttered, sparing a laugh that he shared with his aunt, who gave him a fond laugh in return. “Your rooms have been prepared for your stay tonight. I hope you find them comfortable.”

“Indeed, I shall,” she said, waving him off. “Do not concern yourself about me, Henry. I am eager to know about your life. How are you finding married life, Your Graces?”

“All is well,” the Duke answered her.

“Positively lovely!” Veronica cheerily said at the same time.

His response, closed-off and noncommittal, and hers, over falsifying the situation.

She exchanged a glance of uncertainty with him while Lady Sheridan looked on in amusement.

“I see,” she said. “One might think you are not in the same marriage.”

“I assure you, we are.” The Duke pinched the bridge of his nose. “Regardless, you have pestered me for many years with questions of when I would marry, and now, I am. I do hope this makes you happy, aunt.”

She beamed. “Indeed, it does. And your wife is radiant. Do you not think so, Henry?”

Veronica pointedly kept her face politely on Lady Sheridan but felt the look the Duke gave her pass over her in a tingle of attention.

“She is beautiful,” he answered, voice tight.

He is merely putting on a good display , she told herself.

“And you, Your Grace?” Lady Sheridan asked. “His Grace is most easy on the eyes, is he not?”

“Lady Sheridan!” the Duke complained. “Have you simply visited just to interrogate us on our affairs?”

His voice was not as hard as it was when Veronica overstepped. If anything, he seemed more like he was fondly chastising her.

A bit too swiftly, Veronica’s thoughts wandered off to how he had looked at her the night before, kneeled at her feet, his mouth dipping to her?—

“Your Grace?” Lady Sheridan asked. “Is all well? You have become flushed.”

“It is merely hot in here,” she answered quickly. “Is it not?”

“Indeed.” The Duke cleared his throat as if he knew exactly what she spoke about.

He hesitated before standing up. “If you will excuse me, I have some work to attend to.”

He hovered, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides, before he nodded and began to leave. Then he paused at the door. “I shall see you both at dinner.”

Veronica noticed the warning glance he gave Lady Sheridan before leaving. Moments later, she heard the heavy slam of his study door.

“Ah.” Lady Sheridan’s smile widened. “He is somewhat agitated, isn’t he? He enjoys the door open when he works. He only shuts it in his most heavy grievances.”

“His Grace is doing poorly?” Veronica asked.

“On the contrary.” Lady Sheridan leaned back, sipping at her tea. “I would wager is he doing rather well. But of course, the stubborn fool won’t admit it.”

Dinner was served in the dining room, and Veronica realized it was the first time she and the Duke had made use of it.

Silverware clinked, their wine was poured, and Lady Sheridan talked enough for all of them. The Dowager Viscountess sat closer to the Duke, and although Veronica was on the other end of the table, annoyingly far away, the Duke kept meeting her gaze.

What did you think about when you shut yourself in your study all afternoon ? she wondered.

The Duke’s gaze dropped to her mouth as he drank from his glass deeply before licking away a droplet that collected at the corner of his lips. She swallowed, looking back down at her plate.

“Henry, you must make sure you are keeping on top of the ledgers,” Lady Sheridan said, thoroughly indulging in the spread of food before her.

“I am,” he assured her. “You should not fuss so much. I am taking my title with the utmost responsibility.”

“I know,” she insisted. “But it does not hurt to have someone cluck over you like a hen.”

“I am not in need of a hen, Lady Sheridan,” he said, giving her a softer smile than Veronica had seen him give anyone. “And if I did have one, they would cluck outside where I could not hear.”

He is patient with her , Veronica realized.

There was still a tight irritation in his face, as if he was enduring his aunt but disliked doing so, but he was more patient with her than she had witnessed with anybody else.

“And of course, there are the village visits,” she said.

“Lady Sheridan,” he answered, exasperated, “have you come to visit us, or have you come to check up on me?”

“Indulge an old lady, Henry,” she tutted.

It was very easy to see that his aunt simply cared a lot for him in a way Veronica suspected nobody else had.

“The affairs are in order,” he said firmly. “As I have said before.”

“I know, I know, I merely worry. You have spent so long alone in this empty manor. I want to make sure you are… keeping on top of things, given your new married status.”

“The Duchess is also taking her role very seriously,” he said, his gaze flickering to Veronica.

She sat further upright.

“All is handled.”

“And what of children?” Lady Sheridan asked.

The Duke set down his wine glass a little too hard. The glass clicked against the table with force, and he clenched his fist around the stem.

“What of children?”

“Well, you must have thought of your duty to provide an heir. It is part of your role, too. We must continue our great bloodlines.”

“I understand my duty,” he said. “And if there is news to report, it shall be reported.”

“Henry, if an aunt cannot fuss her nephew and rile him up about his responsibilities, then what can she do?”

His only answer was an eye roll, but Veronica was also curious to know his thoughts beyond duty. That was all anything was with him, it seemed.

“Lady Sheridan, you must share some stories about His Grace from his childhood,” she invited. “It is so very hard to picture him as a boy.”

“Oh! Indeed, I will!”

“Indeed, you will not.” The Duke’s voice cut through the dining hall, deathly threatening, but Lady Sheridan waved him off.

“Of course, your wife should know all your tales!” she said, giggling to herself. “Duchess, you would not believe, given how competent he is now, but when he was a boy, he was terrified of horses.”

“Lady Sheridan,” he warned with a hiss.

“The first time he rode one, it was a day I had dined with his mother at my own estate in London. His father did not watch over him as he should have, and his governess had ventured inside for refreshments for poor Henry, who tried to feed the horse an apple while on its back !”

She laughed heartily.

“I do not know who was more spooked: the horse, trying to get the snack or the young Henry, being flung halfway off the horse’s back as the animal attempted to get the food! Of course, Henry did not know not to tease the poor thing. He had the apple aloft in his hand as he tried to ride it. The horse took off, distressed, of course, and his father was so preoccupied with… other matters that he did not hear Henry’s cries. The horse galloped around the paddock, and by the time his governess returned with a pitcher of lemonade, Henry was half slumped over his horse, passed out cold from fright! The horse, on the other hand, was happily munching on the apple.”

“Lady Sheridan that is enough .” The Duke’s voice was low, but his anger was evident as he set down his cutlery with a final warning.

He stared down at the tablecloth as if he could not bear to meet any of their gazes.

“That is enough.” His voice was quieter, colder, and filled Veronica with an icy chill.

Finally, he lifted his gaze. “I do not wish to hear any more of this nonsense. I am done with dinner tonight.”

His glare towards Lady Sheridan would have eviscerated Veronica had she been the recipient—until those glowering eyes turned on her, likely because she’d asked for a story in the first place, and she withered.

“Oh, Henry, it was more than twenty years ago,” Lady Sheridan said, trying to wave it off.

“It does not matter,” he told her, his voice hard.

He stood up, dropping his napkin onto the table with finality, and left the dining hall.

Veronica stared after him in shock.

She started to rise, wondering if she ought to go after him, but she caught Lady Sheridan’s eye, who shook her head. “Leave him be, dear. He gets into these moods. I have found the best way to deal with them is to let him cool off.”

“And do they… happen a lot?” Veronica asked delicately. “Or last a long time?”

“He has a temperament that is rather understandable. His Grace’s past is a bit of a sore point for him. I should have taken more care than to tell such a story. The truth is, even His Grace’s humorous or fond memories have been tainted.”

She sighed, folding her hands before her on the table as their plates were cleared away.

“Henry was always close to my late husband, the Viscount Sheridan, which is why he’s slightly more tolerant towards me. He has a fondness for me, I believe, and I have always treated him kindly. I think that, even as he resents such kindness, he is grateful for it. He both dislikes and needs it, and that is hard for him to come to terms with.”

Veronica nodded. “I did notice his tolerance of you.”

She smiled sadly. “It is only really myself and his friend, Thomas Shawcross—the son of his solicitor—who he is tolerant of. Even the fact that he has taken you as his wife and duchess is a massive step. It means he may still grow tolerant of you, too.”

Tolerant , Veronica thought miserably.

She was to be tolerated by her husband for the rest of her life, and that was all she could hope for?

“You say the way he behaves is quite understandable?” Veronica prompted, eager for herself not to be mentioned in conversation anymore, lest her feelings get the best of her. “I am in this beautiful manor with a husband who has dined with me for the first time tonight, and even then, he did not stay. Every other day he ignores me or is angry. It is my very wish to understand him better.”

“There are some things he must tell you himself in his own time, but I can tell you some,” Lady Sheridan said.

She sipped from her wine glass thoughtfully.

“Henry’s childhood was difficult. His father was tyrannical, ruling their home with an iron fist. If Henry was not adhering to that iron fist, then he was surely under the blows from it, if you understand me.”

Veronica frowned, realizing she did understand but wished she did not.

“It was not simply neglect, or the lack of care from his father, that Henry endured. The day he was out in the field with the horse, and his father did not hear him… it was because he had yet another mistress in the house. A mistress who let him forget his title and child, I imagine. Henry grew up being told he was never a priority and seeing evidence of it.

“And after that tragic night…” Lady Sheridan’s voice trailed off.

“What night?”

“Well. He does not speak of it ever, so we had better not dwell on that, my dear. Just know that after that, he became cold and removed. Reclusive and sharp-tongued.”

Lady Sheridan’s eyes went sad. “That is all I should tell you, but he lost his mother shortly after.”

Her chest ached for the Duke. She did not know specifics, but she knew what it was like to lose a parent. She could not endure losing her mother, but the Duke had lost both of his.

“Now he throws himself into his businesses,” Lady Sheridan said, her voice brightening once again. “I do believe he sees many of his interactions as transactions. He must gain to give. It can be seen as selfish, and it must be hard to endure in such close proximity, but he means well, and I believe it is understandable.”

Veronica nodded.

“I still wish to know him,” she said.

“And if you are insistent on that, then your spine is as strong as his. That will serve you well as Duchess of Westley.” Lady Sheridan’s encouraging smile bolstered Veronica.

She grinned back.

Lady Sheridan told her firmly. “Be patient with him, and if you are ever in need of advice or a listening ear, I am always an invitation away. As is your mother, I believe.”

“She is indeed,” Veronica said. “I miss her very much.”

“Perhaps we could have tea together soon. I should like to learn about you, Duchess, without my nephew’s temperament hanging over us.”

It was a teasing comment, but Veronica felt for the Duke.

She nodded.

“I would like that,” she agreed.

They both stood to retire, although Lady Sheridan continued talking about her friend, Lady Lindbury, and updating her on women whom Veronica did not know well enough to be interested in.

Soon, her mind strayed back to her husband. When they passed by his chambers, the door shut, she could imagine him pacing. Perhaps already undressed.

Veronica once again thought of the touch of his hand up her calf, the groan of his pleasure against the back of her thigh, and the brush of his mouth.

What more pleasures might he wreak upon me if he so deems it?

She could only imagine the full act. How rough he might handle her, the words he would say…

She craved intimacy from him once again, but it seemed he was in control of when that would be initiated.

Still, she could not stop her imagination running away with her. She had seen his muscles through his clothes. What would he look like fully bared to her? Or perhaps, he was still tightly rigid in his clothes, unable to relax. Perhaps she might help him in a way he would guide her through.

Her cheeks flaming, she pulled back from his door.

She wished she could go to him, but she understood that their arrangement was not like that.

Still, as Veronica got back into bed, she could only wonder: had she begun to care for the Duke?