Page 42

A question hung on the tip of her tongue, but before she could ask it, Lord Halbridge nodded and scooted forward on the sofa. His knee nearly brushed hers as he spoke, and she carefully shifted her leg away. “How fortunate you are to have your family. I, too, was once so lucky.”

“Oh, I’m very sorry to hear about your loss.”

He gave a sharp nod. “Indeed. Losing my cousin was one of the worst moments of my life. It hurt my very soul to see her buried in the cold earth. She didn’t deserve such a fate.”

Their conversation had taken a very quick turn.

Verity racked her brain for a way to make it more appropriate.

While she didn’t care for small talk—as was expected during such visits—she couldn’t possibly manage a conversation with a gentleman she hardly knew.

She considered calling for her aunt or a servant.

But what excuse could she give? A married duchess in the countryside wasn’t supposed to worry about much.

“That must have been very difficult,” she said, echoing her earlier words. “Loss is… That is, grief is a very hard thing to bear.”

“Even worse,” he muttered, leaning toward her. She couldn’t look away from the hard look in his eyes. “To lose her so unexpectedly. So tragically.”

She let out a shaky breath before rising to her feet. “Dear me, it’s rather warm. Why don’t I open these windows?”

But Lord Halbridge followed her, blocking her path. “I read her letters. Her journals. The hatred she had for her foul husband. Every word warned of his coldness and duplicity. Every day was fraught with trouble for her. No lady should have died so young. It wasn’t right. It wasn’t acceptable.”

Verity paused her attempt to skirt around him. Something about the story niggled at the edges of her memory. She swallowed hard and prayed he didn’t hear it.

Tension knotted her stomach as she asked, “Did I know your cousin?”

His eyes narrowed to slits. “No. Cassandra died shattered and shredded by the man you now call husband.”

Verity felt her blood turn to ice. She blinked slowly at the gentleman as though he might tell her that this was all in jest. But he never raised his voice. He was calm and deadly serious in their conversation.

Good Lord. He lost his cousin, who was married to my husband. Why did he never say such a thing? But why is he here now? I don’t understand what he means to do here, when his cousin is already gone.

“I was not aware you two were related,” Verity admitted, forcing her voice to remain steady.

She tried to inch toward the door, but he darted around to block it from view. His shoulders were just wide enough to hide her exit.

“It was a tragic loss, indeed. Perhaps we should have some tea to calm our nerves. Or a walk through the grounds in the fresh air might do us some good.”

“Not when you can be distracted. Because you must listen to me, Your Grace.” He loomed over her, crowding her space. She smelled kippers on his breath as he grunted, “This isn’t right.”

She blinked several times. “What isn’t right?”

Lips curling, Lord Halbridge answered, “You came out of nowhere. From right here, apparently. You were here all this time… and now you’re married to my cousin’s widow. Isn’t that strange?” The knots in her stomach tightened. “You cannot simply take my cousin’s mantle.”

“I took nothing. She has been resting in peace for years. Three, isn’t it?”

Verity attempted to remind him that Cassandra was already gone, so there was no injustice. Tristan was not a bigamist if that was Lord Halbridge’s concern. Even the Bible said that men should remarry if widowed, didn’t it?

Lord Halbridge huffed out a breath. “She is still in my heart, and that is enough. You were never supposed to be a duchess.”

Verity knew that very well, but she wasn’t about to tell him what had happened. Her marriage was supposed to squash the scandal, not bring about more trouble. She felt her breathing quicken. Even when she glanced toward the doorway, he shifted to block the little corner.

She wasn’t going to get out of there alone.

Verity forced herself to accept that. Her next option was to hold her ground. This was her home, not his, and she would not be a coward under her own roof.

“Sometimes we don’t have the lives we expect,” she said hastily when he took a step forward.

The words seemed to catch his attention, for he paused.

“You weren’t supposed to marry him. No one should. The man is dangerous,” Lord Halbridge hissed.

All she wanted to do was slap him for his brutish behavior. Verity considered that while forcing herself to say instead, “Why don’t you sit down so we can talk about it? I believe that would be more appropriate.”

“You still don’t understand, do you?”

“Do not touch me.” Verity stiffened when his arm brushed hers. Her voice cracked only once when she added, “Please, My Lord, remember your manners. We are not so familiar with one another.”

He gritted his teeth. “You’re nothing like her. Is that it? Is that why the Duke married you? He wanted something less than her—smaller, duller, pathetic.”

While Verity knew she might not be a diamond of the first water, she had never been so insulted.

Her hands curled into fists that shook with fear and anger as she glared at him. “I suggest you take your leave. At once.”

“The Duke is hardly a man. A human. He’s a bitter soul bound for the deepest depths. It was his fault she was gone. Do you know that? My cousin was the picture of health! She would not be dead now if they were not wed. It is his fault she is gone, and I will not let that stand.”

“You can’t do anything. He’s not even here,” Verity blurted.

Something dark flickered in Lord Halbridge’s gaze as he stared her down, daring her to move. “No, but you are.”

She yelped as he reached for her, just barely dodging him. His nails grazed her forearm but touched nothing.

Heart pounding, she looked around and wondered if hiding behind the sofa would suffice. Could she perhaps jump out of the window? She had to get away from him; talking was futile.

“I will have my revenge!”

Verity scrambled back, her chest heaving. “Don’t you dare, you––”

They both jumped just as the door burst open.