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 Iwouldn’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.
