Page 15 of A Bride for the Forbidden Duke (Forbidden Lords #2)

Chapter Fifteen

“ T he Duchess is in the breakfast hall, Your Grace,” Henry’s valet told him as he handed Henry his riding boots.

He had more meetings with tenants that day and was eager to get his day started as soon as possible.

He frowned. “She is?”

Glancing outside where the sun was only just rising over the tops of the trees in the distance, he pondered her wakefulness at such an hour. “That is unusual.”

“Her Grace has been doing that for several days now.”

As Henry fastened his waistcoat and shrugged on his jacket, he thought of Veronica’s words several days before when he had tried to avoid her once again.

If you have slept fitfully, break your fast with me. I am a very good listener.

His valet hesitated at the door. “Shall I pass on any particular message, Your Grace?” He gave Henry a knowing look, having worked for him for enough years to know when his feelings were colliding with one another.

Henry paused. “No.”

No , it was best to simply eat elsewhere and take his leave out to the village. There were far too many things for him to concentrate on without Veronica muddling his head once again.

“Very well,” his valet said. “Although, I do hear the cook has prepared some excellent food today. There is talk of imported jam. It would be a shame to miss it.” He gave him a smile before departing.

“A good listener you may be, Duchess,” Henry sighed, “but the thoughts in my mind are not ones I can share.”

As he departed from his room, heading down the stairs to the long hallway where the breakfast hall branched off, he considered how his aunt’s visit had scared him.

Having her, someone who knew him and his past, so close to Veronica, so close to revealing his terrible past… It terrified him.

He did not want Veronica to know about his childhood. He did not want pity, and his aunt pitied him at times. He would loathe for his wife to do the same. Besides, Veronica had a relatively happy life, did she not? Or at least she had before her brother disappeared and her father passed away several years before, as she had told him.

She did not need to be troubled with the torments of his abusive past.

Though as he walked down the hallway, he heard a light humming from the breakfast hall.

He hesitated.

Just walk on , he told himself. Forget about her as you have been doing .

But he could not. Not since he had tasted her in the hallway, not since he had felt her climax reverberate through him, and not since he had kissed her or watched that fire burn in her eyes at his roughness.

And definitely not since she had fainted cold into his arms when his first thought had been I cannot lose her .

Those were foolish thoughts.

Yet he found himself entering the hall, finding Veronica with breakfast dishes around her and a sheaf of papers she frowned at.

“What are you doing?”

At his voice breaking her silence, Veronica startled. Her eyes lifted up to meet his, bleary and tired, as though she had not slept well.

Henry moved further into the hall.

It would be so easy for him to simply sit down alongside her and… eat.

In an uncomfortable silence.

He enjoyed silences but it was most tense when the other person, like Veronica, did not.

“You are not usually awake at dawn,” he continued before she could answer. “My valet told me you have been rising early these last several days.”

“I have been,” she confirmed.

“Why are you not resting?” It came out as a demand, close to a growl. “I did not carry you back to your chamber just for you to neglect your need of rest.”

“I am having breakfast,” she answered matter-of-factly, “and I have rested plenty.”

I hear you, awake at night, pacing , he thought, and yet, you are awake at dawn. Is living here truly disturbing you so much ?

He turned those thoughts off. He did not care. He simply stared at her, unconvinced she was rested at all.

She pointedly ignored him, shuffling her papers.

“I have never seen you awake at dawn,” he went on. “Why have you suddenly begun to do so?”

“Perhaps I wanted a change. And I am very interested in what I am reading.”

“Which is?”

Veronica met his eyes in a silent challenge. “Come and see for yourself. I promise the table shall not cease to exist if you dine once with me. Nor will the food poison you, nor will I disturb you beyond your questions from which you ask me for answers.”

Henry truly thought about simply turning back around and walking out, but something stopped him. Perhaps it was the restrained emotion with which she had spoken several nights ago. Perhaps it was that he recognized the desperation of loneliness through an invitation of breakfast. Perhaps it was simply that he did not have the energy to ignore her today.

Yes, that was it, he decided. He did not have the energy.

So, Henry nodded. “Very well.”

A footman pulled out a chair on the other end of the table, but Henry shook his head. “I shall sit next to Her Grace.”

The footman bowed in acknowledgement before pulling out the next chair and servants prepared him a plate of breakfast. Henry ignored it for the time being, despite the delicious smell. Even Veronica had barely touched her food.

“I wish to discuss the changes around the house,” she told him.

He enjoyed the way she spoke, as if she was in charge and knew everything. It amused him. More so, he liked to put her in her place in that teasing way that had her eyes sparkling, as if she waited for him to do so.

“Seeing as you have avoided me like the plague, Your Grace, I thought we could discuss it over breakfast.” She leveled an unimpressed look at him that he found rather audacious. “I have waited here each morning, only to watch you hurry past. So if you have stopped playing your avoidant games with me, we could discuss the changes.”

“Hmm.”

“I am sorry for not discussing them with you sooner at the very beginning, or since, really, but you are not a very approachable man. And when I do approach you, I fear your temperament gets in the way of a neutral discussion.”

“I do not have a temperament.”

“And I am sure that sweet insistence eases your sleep at night,” she muttered, almost to herself.

He liked her like this, her wit playing him at his own game, not afraid to speak back to him. She was not always like that. When she was vulnerable, it showed, but when she was haughty… oh, it pleased him. It riled something in him.

I do not care what she riles , he almost argued internally with himself.

“I will remind you that it was you who made this offer of our arrangement,” Veronica said, meeting his gaze. “And if it is to continue for the foreseeable future, then we should be able to discuss matters together. If you will listen to me now, we do not have to argue about changes I make in your pointed absence further along the week or month.”

He hesitated before nodding. She had a point.

He sipped at his tea and gestured for her to continue.

“I have dual plans,” she said, laying out sheets of parchment to show him diagrams she, or a servant perhaps, had drawn of the garden and…

He frowned. His study.

“As the garden is being changed, I wish to work on your study, if it is not too disturbing. Of course, the changes will be gradual for you to cause minimal interruption to your work. Alternatively, I can organize for as much to be done as possible during one of the days you are out at meetings.”

He motioned again for her to continue. He realized she had expected resistance. He did not like her changing things, but he had to admit the garish decor of the house was something he loathed.

Henry cleared his throat. “Gradual will be much better,” he said. “If you wish for my input.”

“I do.” She nodded. “Thank you. I thought it would perhaps be easier if it is gradual, so you do not come home after a stressful day to a big change. That is quite jarring, is it not? My mother did that with her parlor one year. I left for afternoon tea, and when I returned, our drawing room was pink.”

“Atrocious,” he muttered dryly, sipping more tea for something to do.

He liked the sound of her voice. She talked enough for both of them, and he found he did not mind that morning. If anything, he was allowing himself to relax in her company. He liked that he did not have to say a great deal in response.

“I took the liberty of sending for your plans for your study in Turner Hall,” she told him, and he blinked, surprised.

“You did?”

“Yes,” she said. “I found the furniture maker who crafted your desk, and the workers that designed your study the way you wanted it, so I have plans to employ them to recreate it right here in Westley Manor for you.”

He blanched. Surely… surely, she was trying to gain something for this odd nicety.

He did not miss London or society by any means, but he did miss his study. For Veronica to have arranged to design this house’s one the same…

It nestled beneath his skin, attempting to make him lose his composure.

Henry cleared his throat. “That is… very astute.”

“Thank you, Your Grace. It is the least I can arrange for you, seeing as you have done so much for me.”

“You are not indebted to me.”

“I suppose you might remind me of that more often before you hold everything that you have done for me over my head.”

He thought she was arguing with him again, but when he lifted his gaze to her, he found Veronica smirking at him.

She is in very good spirits today , he thought.

“Tell me more,” he motioned.

“I wish to redesign the ballroom. Something more elegant and muted. None of the bright colors now. I wish for classical decoration. Pale curtains over doorways, perhaps the crest of the Westley name painted on the floor. I want the adornments to be sophisticated. Busts, perhaps, of good leaders and the monarchs.”

“I did notice that some of the paintings in the hallway had changed,” Henry noted. “I like the one of the violent ocean storm.”

“Well, you are a traveled businessman, are you not? This house should reflect you.”

And what of you ? he did not let himself ask, if only because he had a hard time figuring out why he wanted his home to reflect Veronica. They were not a true husband and wife, and he felt nothing for her.

“Regarding your study,” she continued, “As you stipulated upon our wedding day?—”

“Do not call it that.”

“Regardless, that is what it was.”

“You make it sound more than it was. It was a convenient day to allow us this arrangement.”

“Well,” she muttered, “as you stipulated, I am not to enquire about your business, so do you wish to rearrange your study yourself? I have had a hand in the refurbishments, you see. Arranging flowers, arranging chairs, that sort of thing. Minimal actions, but so I feel part of the plans. What do you wish to do about your study?”

“Leave it,” he told her. “It sounds like too much fuss.”

“But Your Grace, I have already made the plans?—”

“Leave it,” he insisted. “I shall not have my business meddled with.”

“You seemed rather happy a moment ago.”

“I was merely being polite,” he lied.

He truly did not want her poking around his affairs.

“Then you may take care of everything. All I request is when I can inform the workers to proceed with the changes, and you may move your papers to the library, perhaps.”

“Do not dictate me,” he groaned, setting down his teacup. “Do as you please with the rest of the house, but do not touch my study, understood?”

He had moved towards her, as he found he often tended to do when they argued, as if their tension had him gravitating towards her. Still, Veronica only met his gaze head-on, steel resistance in her eyes. She was a woman who knew what she wanted and told him so with her chin raised.

“You infuriate me,” he told her, his voice flat.

“And you are stubborn and impossible to work with,” she shot back.

And yet he could not move back from her. Henry could not bring himself to create such distance. Instead, he began to lean in closer, trying to remember how her mouth felt on his. All the while, he told himself to ignore that craving.

But he did crave.

Heavens, he craved.

Veronica’s eyes flickered with uncertainty as he came closer, inches away from her lips, and then they closed, her head tilting upwards. Awaiting him. Wanting him.

Only for a knock at the door to him jerk back from her, clarity setting in, and Mrs. Nelson standing in the doorway.

“What?” Henry snapped.

“Excuse me, Your Graces, but some of the furniture that the Duchess ordered has arrived. Mr. Worthington is waiting to be shown into the first room.”

“Wonderful!” Veronica said, jumping up. “We shall get started at once.” She looked at Henry, giving him a polite smile. “Have a good day, Your Grace.”

She curtsied and left the room, already talking animatedly with Mrs. Nelson about her plans.

Henry scoffed and buttered some toast before smearing jam over it and biting through it to keep himself busy.

His valet was right. The jam was very good. He sighed, wondering if Veronica had sampled it.

And then he growled to himself before pushing away from the table and stalking out.

“I do not care what she does,” he told himself.

There was a horse waiting for him at the entrance.

He bypassed Veronica without a second glance or word, and he was aware of her eyes on him as he swung himself up onto his horse and set off for the village.

Veronica watched the Duke tear off down the main entrance of Westley Manor, her heart thudding in her chest.

At least he had somewhat dined with her. She could be thankful for that, she supposed.

If only Evelina were here with her. At least then, Veronica could discuss her plans thoroughly with someone helpful.

And yet, the Duke had listened. He had looked… pleasantly impressed at several points, she thought. As if he had truly shown an interest until she had triggered his response about his business. What was so wrong her with being involved in that? She understood the importance of privacy, but why was he so adamant she know nothing about him?

She refused to accept that.

“Mr. Worthington, the new settee shall be set up in the drawing room,” she instructed. Mrs. Nelson strolled beside her. “I wish I could invite my mama to see what I am doing with the manor, but His Grace made it very clear that guests are not welcome unless he has invited them directly.”

“That is true, unfortunately.” Mrs. Nelson nodded sadly. “His Grace is very particular about the company he keeps. He sees only Lady Lindbury and Mr. Thomas Shawcross, and, of course, Mr. John Shawcross, his solicitor.”

“Lady Sheridan mentioned that he lost both parents quite young,” Veronica said delicately. “What do you think they were they like? I have heard the Duke’s father was… unkind .”

“I do not know a great deal, Your Grace,” she admitted. “The former Duke was His Grace’s uncle. His Grace was intended to become Viscount Kemble after his father until his uncle—the late Duke—and cousin perished at sea, and so the title was handed to His Grace.”

“I have wondered how he must have felt,” Veronica mused. “He had planned for one element of greatness, only to have this other title thrust upon him. I wonder if Westley Manor does not feel like home to him for those reasons. I can see he is content but not comfortable. He lives here out of duty and necessity.”

Mrs. Nelson nodded. “I think he enjoys the countryside most. That is why he endures the manor as it is.”

“Well,” Veronica said cheerfully. “That is precisely why I am making so many changes. This is a beautiful manor, and the Duke prefers his darker tastes, and although I prefer lighter shades and elegance, I wish to find a balance. He has told me to steer clear from his study, but I saw a glimpse of something positive in his eyes. He was happy I had gone through the trouble of obtaining his plans from Turner Hall. Do you think he shall be rather upset if I continue my plans?”

“Perhaps,” Mrs. Nelson said, winking. “But perhaps His Grace has a duchess who can challenge his command and match him.”

Veronica found she wanted to test the boundaries again of the Duke’s endurance of her lack of obedience.

Her wrists still recalled the harsh knot of his cravat, and her body remembered his hard presses to keep her pinned, the scrape of teeth on her skin, and the unforgiving delves of his tongue.

“Perhaps indeed.” Veronica smiled broadly as she went back inside the manor to instruct on furniture placement.