Page 44

T he rain had stopped.

Verity stared at Tristan, unsure what she should say. The rain had stopped falling when he entered the room like an angry god from Greek mythology, ready to tear this world apart.

It had been so frightening to see him here. Frightening for so many reasons.

How he had known to come here to rescue her, she didn’t understand. Had he expected Lord Halbridge to do something? If so, had he come for Lord Halbridge or her?

How swift her husband had been, defusing what could have been a dangerous fight. That first punch from Lord Halbridge could have surely toppled someone. But Tristan had moved with absolute grace until he’d had absolute control over the villain.

Shivers ran down her spine as his threats echoed in her mind.

He was protecting me. He came here to protect me. Now that the rain has stopped, what will he do?

Only he wasn’t saying anything.

Verity licked her lips, silently willing him to talk. She noted vaguely that Lord Halbridge had left—the danger was over. But what remained? What lingered between her and her husband?

Surely this changed things. But what, she couldn’t be certain.

Then, she couldn’t bear the tortuous silence any longer.

“Your Grace,” she muttered and took her leave.

There was no curtsy, no nod, no warning. It was all she could think to say before turning her back on Tristan. Her husband. The man who had rescued her from whatever Lord Halbridge might have had in mind.

Did he? Did he truly mean me harm? What would he have done?

Shivering, Verity wrapped her arms around herself as she walked. Her legs led the way. She passed behind the stairs and down the hall toward the small back door by the kitchens. A familiar spare shawl hung there still, so she wrapped it around her shoulders as she went outside.

Everything was still damp after the morning rain, and it smelled fresh and beautiful. The earth was reborn. Yet her chest was still tight. Her steps wavered on the path until she finally found a spot to drop to her knees.

“Gardening,” she huffed under her breath as she stared. “That should help.”

At least it should be a distraction.

And what a perfect spot she had found. A little corner that wasn’t as well tended as the rest of the flowers or vegetable garden.

Frowning, she leaned forward and braced a hand in the dirt so she could use the other to pull out the small weeds daring to intrude among the potatoes.

She threw herself into the work, pulling weed after weed after weed. Dirt burrowed under her nails, and her forehead grew damp with sweat despite the cold. But she needed to move. To do something. To do anything but think.

Then came the inevitable sound of footsteps on the gravel path. Too heavy to be her aunt’s and too steady to be the gardener’s. She paused, closing her eyes to take a deep breath, and then resumed her work as the feet neared her enough to come to a stop.

She could sense her husband’s steady gaze on her. But even now, he said nothing.

Verity felt a hint of fear. Not of his anger or violence. She hadn’t feared for herself once in the parlor. No, she feared what he might say. What he might not say. She wasn’t ready for anything to change or happen. She couldn’t bear it.

“If you’re going to simply stand there,” she said at last, “you should make yourself useful. Or leave.”

As she wiped her brow, certain he would leave, she heard a shuffling sound.

Verity froze. She hardly dared to breathe. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw movement as Tristan slowly dropped to one knee and then two.

He rolled his sleeves back to his elbows. Like a gardener. It made him so very human. And yet so much more. She didn’t understand it. Or him. The Duke was an understated dresser but always refined.

That one glance at him had her cheeks heating up and her heart beating faster than usual.

“Verity,” he started.

“No,” she replied immediately, hoping they could work in silence.

She wasn’t ready. Not to talk to him or look at those forearms. Blinking, she turned away and plucked at the ground, only to pull out a carrot.

Small and yellow, it was not ready for the sun.

Her shoulders slumped. Gardening wasn’t supposed to be messy, not for her.

“Verity,” Tristan repeated in a calm voice, so soothing it made her limbs go weak. She did nothing when his hands curled around hers as she held the carrot. “Shall we?”

“I…”

There was nothing she could do, as her mind seemed to have frozen.

She watched him help her carefully dig a small hole in the dirt for the carrot before gently covering it with dirt.

His touch was nothing short of tender and calm until the carrot was secure once more, and she dropped her hands to her lap.

“Will you listen?” he asked.

Verity prayed he didn’t hear her gulp. Not trusting her voice, she merely gave a slight shrug of one shoulder. Still, she didn’t dare look at him as he talked.

And Tristan talked, his voice low and serious and almost reluctant.

“Halbridge sent you her journal. He’s one of the few surviving members of her family, and I sent them all of her belongings.

I didn’t want to keep them once she was gone.

I meant what I told Halbridge—I would have saved her if I could.

We had access to excellent physicians, but Cassandra’s pride always kept her from them. ”

Verity felt a lump form in her throat. So those papers really were from Cassandra. She wanted to believe the woman, but what Lord Halbridge did today made her hesitate.

So she listened to her husband.

“Cassandra never loved me, and I never loved her. She aspired to wed my brother. There would be no title, but there would be wealth. A life of leisure. And while I was buying my commission, there was certainly a chance that she might still have Oliver and someday become a duchess.

“Oliver was the one who shined. He gloried in laughter and amusements. Everyone loved him—I, most of all. But he had a penchant for trouble that led him to gambling. He made the wrong friends. He did some troubling things to pay off his debts. I don’t know what Cassandra thought of that; she never said.

But he departed this earth early in a carriage accident.

“He had written to me about many of his troubles. I could only do so much from afar. When I received news of his passing, I must admit… there was a part of me that was so relieved. Perhaps he would finally rest and be at peace. Perhaps I could stop worrying about him.”

Verity couldn’t help but turn toward him, ready to console him for the painful loss. The words got stuck in her throat as she gazed up at him. His eyes were closed, lost in memory.

“I thought Cassandra truly mourned him. For a short spell, we found peace in each other’s company.

We would go out for rides or walks in the country for some time after my return.

So deep I was in my grief that I didn’t understand it until she insisted we marry.

When I refused, she threatened to share the letters he had written to her, confessing everything he had confessed to me. ”

Tristan opened his eyes. She’d never seen something black look so light before. And with it the pain of the past.

“I didn’t want my brother’s name tarnished. So I married her. I gave her everything she desired, thinking it would make her happy. Thinking perhaps it would make me happy in turn. But eventually, I couldn’t give her everything she asked for. When I couldn’t, when I wouldn’t , she turned to others.”

Unable to help herself, Verity reached out and covered his hand with her own as it rested on his knee. “Was she cruel?”

“Perhaps. Perhaps not.” He gazed down at their hands.

“I don’t think she wished to be happy. I don’t know if she knew how to be.

Nothing was good enough for her. I realized soon enough her manipulative games.

But Halbridge was always around. He resented me.

Blamed her unhappiness on me then as well, as though I was at fault for our union. ”

A strangled groan escaped Verity. “The letters were right there. I showed them to you. And you said nothing, Tristan. What was I supposed to think?”

Grimacing, he hung his head. “You were supposed to think anything you liked. Anything that would keep the past away from us. Away from you. And I did not have any proof beyond my words. I had done nothing to gain your trust; I wasn’t worthy of it.”

“So you pushed me away,” Verity huffed.

“I thought,” he said carefully, lifting his head to gaze at her, “that I could keep you safe. That keeping you at bay was the most important thing. But I was wrong. Keeping you away nearly killed me.”

“It hurt me,” she pointed out. “ You hurt me. Again and again.”

He nodded, which surprised her. “I was wrong about so much. I was the one still lost in the past. Every time we were apart, I convinced myself that you were like her. That all women were like her. And yet every time we were together… You were always you. I was an idiot, Verity. I was wrong, and I’m sorry.

Because even through it all, even though I fought it all along, I love you.

It’s the only truth I’m certain of now.”

As her entire world spun, Verity waited. She felt her breath catch in her throat. Her heart skipped a beat. Tristan intertwined their fingers on his leg. He radiated warmth and sincerity.

She looked back at him, trying to comprehend everything he had said. There was nothing more for him to say.

She considered the weapons he had laid down. His pride and apology and everything else. And he expected nothing now. She could see in his eyes that he would leave if she asked him.

Did she want that?

How am I supposed to know what I want, after everything that happened?

“You deserved the truth. All of it,” he murmured.

She did. Verity knew this. But she hadn’t known he knew it. Hadn’t she deserved better from him as well? But there he was, trying to make amends.

Only she didn’t know what to do with it.

Tristan’s gaze didn’t shift, but she felt him squeeze her hand comfortingly before releasing her fingers. A sense of loss shot through her when he gently put her hand back in her lap and slowly rose to his feet. There was that awful lump in her throat.

Following his every move, she watched as he slowly fixed his cuffs, drawing out the moment. And then he turned to leave.

“Wait,” she cried suddenly and sucked in another breath. She twisted a little to gaze up at him a little longer. The thought of parting suddenly hurt, a stabbing sensation in her ribs. “I… I forgive you.”

“You do?”

“But I need time,” Verity continued hastily, the words spilling out before she understood them herself.

But she let them, as they felt right. “We need time. I want to believe you—every word—but I want it to be real. I want us to be real. It’s all I’ve ever wanted, Tristan.

All I need is time to know that you speak the truth. ”

He glanced down at his hands before looking at her. “I understand. There is… There is much of me buried away. Parts of me I don’t recognize anymore. I cannot guarantee anything of myself.”

“But you’ll try?”

“Yes.”

He bent down to her. She reached out her arms, and he grabbed her by the elbows, pulling her to her feet in one swift motion. It left her breathless as she clung to him.

“My hands,” he murmured. “I shouldn’t touch you.”

A surprised laugh escaped Verity. “I think my hands are more filthy than yours, Tristan.”

“I always liked it when you said my name.” Warmth flooded his gaze, and that surprised her.

So she said his name again. “Tristan.”

She studied him for a while before lifting a hand to his chest. There came the wild thumping of his heart beneath the damp fabric of his waistcoat and shirt.

Just as she was wondering if he might let her listen to it, Tristan slid his hands up her arms and around her waist, pulling her closer. She melted into him, resting her cheek where her hand had been a moment ago.

“Did you mean it?” she murmured. “You said home was wherever I am.”

“It is. You are home, Verity. And I will try,” Tristan vowed in a whisper.

“I will go wherever you wish. I will take you on picnics. I will read to you in the evenings. I will keep you warm in the rain and attend to you in teahouses. We’ll go on carriage rides, and I shall dine with you every night. ”

A smile spread across her lips. The chill of the day was far away now, with his heat seeping through her. “Will you really?”

“I will dance with you at every ball until we cause a scandal. I only wish I could see the world through your eyes. But I will do my best for you so that someday you understand just how important you are to me. I promise, Verity,” he reassured her.

Verity nuzzled him. “Then I think you are off to an excellent start.”