What had she expected to happen when she came out to tell the Duke? If only he had been in the saddle and on his way out. Then, she wouldn’t have been able to talk to him, and they wouldn’t be in this predicament.
Either way, I would still be ruined.
“Say yes, My Lady,” the Duke urged. “Before it gets worse.”
There was a lump in her throat. She tried to swallow twice. Hands shaking as she smoothed the wrinkles in her dress, Verity glanced around and found no one else. Another mistake.
This gentleman surely brought out the worst in her.
Still, she nodded. There was little more she could do.
“Is that an acceptance of my proposal?”
“You don’t know how to propose,” she gritted out. “But so be it. I shall marry you. It is merely duty, so I shall not dress it up and ask for anything more.”
He paused. “It’s not dressed up. This is real. If you would prefer a more emotional proposal, I can kneel down and ask again. Is that what you need?”
The two of them stared at each other for a long moment, and yet Verity could not read him. She couldn’t sort out anything in his mind. She couldn’t even sort out the man himself. He was strange and stiff and always frowning.
Why couldn’t I keep my mouth shut?
She shook her head. Maybe it was time to let go of her dreams now.
Verity inhaled and spoke as calmly as she could, “That shall be all. We shall… marry.”
CHAPTER 5
Any relief Tristan might have felt about finding his way back to his estate was unfortunately set aside and entirely forgotten as a new emotion gripped him.
He couldn’t quite name it, which only bothered him more.
There was a weight on his shoulders, similar to the responsibility he’d felt when he had a brother and then a wife to worry about. But now, it was different.
It was disarming and uncomfortable and irritating.
Another betrothed. How is this happening all over again?
His head ached over the notion that he would have to wed again. Another woman in his life. Another union he did not choose. Another agreement made because he had no choice. Another mistake.
It was a long journey back to his estate. His shoulders slumped, his thighs ached, and he could hardly focus on the path ahead of him. He didn’t reach his estate until after dark, his horse lagging under his weight.
He slid down from the saddle. He would have stumbled had he not clung tightly to the reins. His horse snorted before they continued on toward the stables.
“Your Grace!” A young stableboy came running out, fumbling with a hat that didn’t appear interested in staying on his head. His face broke into a sheepish grin as he pointed to them. “We were thinking about sending out a search party. It’s been days. Are you all right?”
A question a duke had no reason to answer, especially coming from a servant.
Tristan eyed the lad thoughtfully. He couldn’t recall the last time anyone had asked him that question. No one really cared about him.
Not since Oliver, at least.
He thought of his friends with a frown, for they had always been an exception. Questions and doubts filled his mind.
He shook his head. “Tend to the horse, will you?” he instructed. “It’s been a long day, and he hasn’t had his proper feed.”
“Were you all right?”
Tristan studied the young man, only to conclude that he had not been here for long. The estate was run by a skeleton staff when he was gone. More help was hired whenever he visited, so perhaps the lad hadn’t been properly trained after all.
