Page 17 of The Duke Who Dared Me (Wayward Dukes’ Alliance #31)

Miss Baxter was nearly on a departing coach this morning, bonnet askew and heart in tatters. What could possibly stop her? A kneeling duke, naturally.

- The Polite Observer

Bright spring sun peeked around the edges of the drawn damask curtains by the time Verity stirred.

She rolled over slowly, her muscles deliciously sore, her sheets cool against her skin. A lazy smile curled at the corners of her mouth as her hand reached toward the space beside her.

It was empty.

Her brow furrowed. She sat up, tugging the coverlet to her chest.

Alistair was gone.

His boots were no longer by the edge of her bed. Nor his shirt, great coat, or buckskins.

He’d left her.

She sank onto the edge of the bed. It wasn’t as if she’d expected much.

When he climbed into her room only a few hours earlier, she knew it was a fleeting moment.

But she didn’t appreciate being a hushed secret either.

Verity craved for some acknowledgement. A quick note, perhaps.

Anything to prove what had happened between them had meant more than a sordid tryst.

Verity was bold, but she never considered she would be so scandalous.

If she had, she would have bet on it feeling better at the very least.

“Is that all?” she asked herself, wiping away the tears on her cheeks. She scoffed at how ridiculous she was. Once, she had vowed never to be sentenced to Newgate for a man, but after this morning, being sent to live with Aunt Francis sounded like a suitable punishment.

She dressed, sat down at her vanity to pin up her hair, then froze.

The porcelain figure sat there, untouched from when she placed it down last evening.

She closed her eyes, feeling the ghosting touch of his fingers skimming across her collarbone. She could still hear his whispered praise, the pressure of his lips at the base of her neck.

How long had she been in love with him?

Verity opened her eyes, tossed down her hairbrush, and groaned. Too long and not long enough.

Was she expected to parade around London now, still hopelessly searching for a husband? It wasn’t as if Alistair had made any promise to her. One failed proposal for an evening was enough. Everyone was expecting her to lose the wager, and they would see their payday it seemed.

She sat at her desk next, wrote a quick note, and proceeded down to the morning room where Percy sat with Marina. Baby Colin was with the nurse, playing on the floor.

“What are you doing up?” Percy asked.

She handed her note to the footman and asked for it to be posted immediately. “Do I need permission to break my fast?”

“No.” He buried his face in his hand, and Marina snickered. Her floppy lace cap looked silly, but Verity held her tongue. No point in causing a scene.

“I know we must economize. I shall only have one piece of toast and tea without sugar.” It came out more biting than she expected.

“Now that you have no marriage prospects,” Marina added, taking a not-so-subtle bite of ham off her plate.

Percy reached for his wife’s hand and smiled, gazing at her in such a way that it made her stomach turn. “Economizing? True, Colin will be a big brother by the end of the year.”

Verity choked on her tea. Her eyes popped wide as Percy and Marina stared back at her, horrified by her reaction.

“Congratulations?” she added meekly.

“There was no need to tell her,” Marina whispered harshly, throwing off Percy’s touch.

“Soon, you’ll be increasing, and there will be no secret, dear.”

“I was hoping she would be gone by then.”

Verity laughed, her disbelief too large to hide. That had always been the plan, hadn’t it? It wasn’t solely that she needed a husband because of her father’s past debts. It wasn’t even Percy’s terrible managing of finances. It was Marina. She couldn’t tolerate another woman in the house.

“Well.” Percy glanced between his sister and his wife, then slumped back into his chair. “I’ve tried my best. No one will marry Verity.”

“Not even Lord Brookhouse.” Marina brushed her hand over her cap and bright red curls.

She was a petite woman from a good family.

It was only her fortune that wasn't enough. And Percy wasn’t enough either.

She always wanted more while he juggled paying for their parents’ mistakes.

Too many carriages, bad gambling debts, debts to the dressmakers and tailors.

They even owed a French auction house for treasures that once hung in Warwick Cottage.

But that was all gone now.

Verity’s childhood was a memory. A painful, lonely one at that. And London hadn’t been any better.

She rested her elbows on the table, a smug smile floating to her lips as Marina huffed her disapproval at such bad manners.

“I won’t trouble you any longer. I came down this morning to tell you I’ve decided to live with Aunt Francis after all.”

“Spinsterhood suits a woman of your…” Marina paused, glancing over the edge of her teacup, “disposition.”

“I hope so. I hated being just another asset in London waiting for a buyer. Hard when there’s no dowry.”

Percy choked. “How did you know?”

“Lord Brookhouse is a sniveling imp.” Marina crossed her arms. “I told you Tunstall shouldn’t be involved.”

Verity dropped her toast. “Involved?”

“I have no dowry set aside for you. When you returned from Lady Quinlan’s dinner party, Tunstall learned of the truth and was very generous.”

The air squeezed from her lungs.

Her dowry gone? And then he… last night ?

It was foolish to believe she was anything more than a mistake. He could wrap up his denial with soft kisses that melted her cold heart, but why had she been so stupid as to believe him? If she wasn’t a mistake, then why hadn’t he proposed?

“Lord Brookhouse is desperate, Verity. He learned of your silly wager and thought it would be easy to make a wife.” Marina set down her teacup. “And after learning you had a rather large lump sum…” She sighed, rolling her brown eyes. “It was too much. Rather absurd Tunstall even offered to help.”

“He’s a generous friend.” Percy glared at Verity, as if he knew. At this point, she didn’t care. It was too late. Her heart was broken.

The nursemaid approached, but Marina waved them off. “Bring Colin back to the nursery. I’ve lost my appetite and need to rest.”

“Can I say goodbye?” Verity jumped from her chair, her heart crushed from such unexpected news.

“You can write,” Marina snapped.

“No, I mean to say goodbye to my nephew.”

Her sister-in-law gestured for the nursemaid to bring him over. As she did, he reached for her, and Verity’s heart broke all over again.

“Say goodbye?” Percy repeated. Marina marched out of the room, and he glanced behind him, jumping out of his chair to run after her, no doubt.

Colin grabbed hold of her and wrapped a curl around his fist, stuffing it into his drool-covered mouth with a smile.

“My handsome little man. I am so glad you are well. You’re never allowed to scare me like that again.

” She ignored the way Percy hovered nearby.

“I will miss you most of all, but you must promise to be the best behaved boy in all of London.” He squeaked, then smacked his lips together with a loud pop .

“Excellent.” Tears stung her eyes, and it didn’t matter anymore. None of it. She didn’t belong here. And once she arrived at her elderly aunt’s, she probably wouldn’t belong there either.

She cupped the back of his head and drew him close for a kiss, then handed him back to the nursemaid.

“You’re leaving now?”

“No time like the present.”

“Verity, if you’re worried about the fallout of last night’s visit with Brookhouse, we can manage it. There must be someone who will marry you.”

“Especially now you’ve saddled me with a large, juicy dowry. It helps lessen the blow that they would need to tolerate me as a wife.”

“That’s how society works.”

It was true. It wouldn’t be the first marriage settled like a business arrangement: a well-bred woman in exchange for money.

But she was so exhausted from trying to find a way to fit herself within those expectations.

It wasn’t enough that she was beautiful like her parents had hoped.

It wasn’t enough that she was smart and witty.

If anything, that only made men feel less superior.

They didn’t like to be challenged. It wasn’t enough that she was an excellent dancer or had spent years practicing blasted French until she was flawlessly fluent, along with Greek, Italian, and Latin.

Her butterfly collection was thought of as weird.

She was too confident a horsewoman. And it made no difference that she was excellent with children.

Verity spoke her mind, and that, above all, was the cardinal sin.

She shrugged, sniffing back her tears. There was no point in wiping them away any longer. “No one wants me, so I will see myself out.” She tried for levity, but her joke crashed to the floor.

Percy glared at her, not entertained. “I have put up with a lot from you over the years. If you could only control yourself and mind your tongue. Maybe, and I know this would take a miracle, but stop letting every emotion control you. Aunt Francis is elderly, yes, but she will break you until you are a shell of the sister I have now.”

“What other options do I have?” She stepped around him, desperate to return to her room and start packing before sense caught up with her.

“Does this have to do with Tunstall?”

She paused, spinning to face him from the dark hallway. It had everything to do with that infuriating man. She loved him, and he was no better than the rest. He could only ever love her in pieces, in the quiet corners of society where her reputation wouldn’t touch his.

That wasn’t love either. And if she couldn’t be loved for everything about her, then she would do something radical and love herself. Even if it meant moving out to the country, away from society, to gain an ounce of freedom from crushing expectations.