Page 6 of A Bride for the Forbidden Duke (Forbidden Lords #2)
Chapter Six
A cross the room, Veronica still stood beside Evelina as the two watched the ball come alive with each new arrival on the floor.
The music swept into another song, and Evelina leaned in to talk to Veronica, only to be stopped by the approach of a gentleman.
“Miss Stapleton, I have noticed you have not yet danced tonight,” he said, bowing deeply. “May I take your hand for your first dance?”
His eyes cut to Veronica, as if asking if it was okay. Evelina’s also did, her fingers nervously pinching at her gloves.
“I am sure Miss Stapleton would be honored,” Veronica said as her permission for her friend to have fun.
Just because Veronica did not want, nor think, anyone would ask to dance with her did not mean Evelina should miss out at her own mother’s ball. Evelina giggled as she was taken away and onto the floor, beginning a dance.
But as soon as her friend was gone, Veronica found herself looking around.
I do not wish to dance , she thought to herself. Not if the whispers are anything to go by. And if the men are anything like that horrid Duke of Westley, or Lord Barwicke, then I do not wish to entertain them.
But then she remembered her duty to her mama. And deep down, she wished somebody would ask her to dance. Realistically, she knew not every man was like those terrible ones. She did not even know if the Duke was terrible, only that he was rude and impatient.
Yet nobody approached her, and Veronica hovered, feeling rather lonely.
She waited several more moments, and it was only when she felt the cunning eyes of Miss Garland as she was twirled onto the floor that Veronica gave up hope and backed away.
The drinks stand was mostly empty, and she realized she would not feel too crowded there. She had already had one glass but desired another, if only to have something to do that did not make her look so awfully lonely.
Drifting her way over to the beverage stand, she picked up another glass and overheard voices behind her.
“Did you hear about the Earl of Grantham?” a low voice asked.
They didn’t seem to know Veronica was right there. Still, they did not care to lower their voices regardless but maintained a level of discretion.
“He left his family questioning and destitute, but if only they knew the truth!”
Veronica stilled. The truth?
“Indeed,” a female voice giggled. “They have nary two coins to rub together, and yet the Earl has left his life behind, pockets heavy, having made lots of money since his departure. I believe he is in America now! What a scandal . Perhaps we should let the gossip sheets know.”
“That would be something,” the gentleman laughed.
Veronica did not dare turn around. She kept her eyes fiercely ahead, even as her lower lip trembled with emotion.
“Do you think the author pays well for the stories?”
They descended into more laughter.
“I wonder what poor woman has married the Earl,” they continued. “For rumor has it he has started his own family, far away from the ton and the suffocating life that the Granthams clearly gave him. Poor boy, he always did feel the need to live in his father’s shadow.”
Veronica’s eyes pricked with tears.
Was any of this true? She certainly had heard enough of her brother’s grousing that she knew it was true about living in their father’s shadow but so much so that he had left them for America? For a new family ? Did she have a sister-in-law and nephews and nieces she did not know about?
Had he truly forgotten all about Veronica and her mother? He’d promised to take care of them after their father’s death. Yet… here they were, left behind, abandoned, with no fortune to speak of.
Her chest heaved with unshed tears and an ache starting in her clavicle, and she pressed a hand to her collarbone, trying to stifle her emotion.
She could not be seen crying.
Setting her drink down on the table, Veronica rushed out, past the gossipers, out of the ballroom, and right into the garden. She had visited Evelina enough times to know the pathways to take to the townhouse’s entrance from the side. Perhaps she could wait there.
I will be disappointing Mama , she realized, even as she could not quite slow herself down. I should stay and fix my composure. If I stay out here, it is another day that my mother must fall into the whims of Lord Barwicke .
“Lady Veronica! Lady Veronica, please slow down!”
Veronica froze. The very voice she had not wanted to hear beckoned her to stop.
And she did, for her tears quickly turned to anger, and she whirled around, finding Lord Barwicke staring at her from a short distance away.
He was highlighted by the ballroom’s harsh lighting as he strode towards her.
She felt stalked—but not quite in the alluring way the Duke had made her feel. No, she felt trapped , fearful.
“Lady Veronica, I could not help overhearing the gossip in there,” he said to her. “Your mother is beside herself. Come, let me comfort you both and take you both home.”
“No!” Veronica shouted. “No, you must leave me alone.”
“I am concerned for you, Veronica. You are a young woman alone in a garden. You should be chaperoned.”
“I am only getting some air. I am in perfect sight of anyone.”
But as Lord Barwicke advanced, Veronica had no choice but to back up, away from him, and she realized that she was getting further and further away from the ballroom.
“Come back to the ball, Veronica.”
Her name on his tongue made her want to gag. How dare he speak so calmly to her when he was—when he was forcing her mother behind closed doors?
“ You ,” she spat, halting. She yanked off her dance card and threw it into the grass, needing to throw or hit something, lest it be him. “You are a deceitful, lying coward!”
Lord Barwicke’s eyes flitted about them, checking for anybody watching. Nobody was. And Veronica was horrified to realize how far he had cornered her away from anybody, yet she still checked the shadows.
“I saw you, Lord Barwicke! I saw you sneaking out of our house, and I know exactly what you are forcing my mother to do. Have you no honor? No shame? You are a coward, My Lord, and I wish you nothing but pain for the remainder of your lonely, miserable life.”
She seethed, staring back at him. But Lord Barwicke only approached her, his hair thinning, and his mouth a sneer. His nose, bulbous and red-tinged, as if he had drunk too much in his earlier years, sniffed, and lifted, so he looked down at her.
“Your silly little words mean nothing to me, dear Veronica,” he said, his voice a drawl. More a slur than anything. “Well, not nothing . I must admit your feistiness makes you rather appealing. Much more so than your babbling, dithering mother. Perhaps we could have a much more interesting time behind closed doors.”
His eyes searched her, lingering on the neckline of her dress.
Veronica wished for her cloak that had been taken at the start of the ball, for now Lord Barwicke looked at her as though he could see through every layer.
“I have found that your mother’s corset strings unlace quite easily when I mention raising her allowance for the month,” Lord Barwicke sneered. “Tell me, do yours as well?”
At the implication, Veronica’s eyes widened as she stumbled several paces away from him.
“Come on, Veronica. Perhaps it should be you paying me back instead of that old hag.”
“Stay back!” she cried. “Stay back, or I shall scream!”
Lord Barwicke only laughed. “If you scream, it is only you who shall be ruined. Look at you, Veronica. Dear me, out on your own with an unmarried man. It is you looking for a husband since the young Lord Grantham has abandoned you. Do you think anyone would want a ruined bride? In fact, do scream. For I shall be there to pick up the ruined pieces of you reputation when the ton comes running to fuel the gossip they love so much.”
“You… You are so cruel,” Veronica whispered, shaking her head.
And he was right. She would be ruined. If anyone saw them, her situation would only worsen. Nobody had wanted to dance with her as it was. This… this would make things all that much worse. She would be completely ruined, and her mama would be forced to keep doing Lord Barwicke’s disgusting bidding.
Veronica inhaled sharply.
And then she bolted, turning away from the Fernwell estate and running into the shadows towards the entrance from the garden.
Her shoes scuffed on the paving stones that ran around the outside of the home, but she did not get far before a body slammed into hers, and the odor of sweat and wine grew nauseatingly too close.
Lord Barwicke pressed her against one of the house’s columns that upheld a balcony on the higher floor, and he kept her pinned.
Veronica’s breath shortened as she panicked, fighting against him.
His face was inches from hers, spittle flying from his lips as he hissed, “I shall add a bonus to your monthly allowance if you shall grant me a taste.”