She glanced at him, and he nodded once.
Too late, he realized he had just urged her to continue.
He stiffened and held back a wince as she opened her mouth. Trying to close his eyes—and keep them closed—he still couldn’t block out her chatter.
Though tossing myself out of the carriage grows more tempting by the second, I believe I can make it home. Somehow. At least she has a pleasant voice. Not what one might call melodic, but it’s soft and comforting. Nearly. For someone else, perhaps.
“It was such a pleasure. I didn’t expect to enjoy the evening so much; perhaps that is why it was such a delight. The lower my expectations, the more opportunity I have to enjoy myself. And I do believe I made it enjoyable for others, as well. One of my dance partners laughed over one of my jests.”
He stiffened with irritation. “He did?”
But Verity didn’t notice. One hand fanned herself while she smoothed the folds of her dress with the other hand. “Indeed. It was quite clever, a pun about the composer whose musicwe danced to. He repeated it to some new acquaintances, and everyone adored it—and thus me.”
Something about her words made him wince. They made him think of Cassandra, of her bravado and eagerness to always be the center of attention. Now, she would surely be coy and playfully humble.
Looking at Verity, however, Tristan was surprised to her looking at him without ire. Her eyes were dancing with mirth and joy. He could make out her slight nose and big eyes in the moonlight shining on her.
She doesn’t look a thing like Cassandra.
“It is difficult work to smile and dance and jest,” she admitted. “I had forgotten. Or rather, I hadn’t much opportunity before this evening to even make an attempt. It was a very pleasant education I received, especially as a new duchess.”
The words rolled off his sharp tongue before he could stop himself. “Did you not have a proper Season in London?”
Leaning back, Verity glanced away, a flush on her cheeks. Or so he assumed. They did appear a shade darker. Normally, one might even find it charming. But the way her gaze darted away and her smile faltered made him wonder how harsh he had sounded.
“I did, for a short time,” she mumbled, her earlier confidence seemingly sucked out of her. “I very much enjoyed coming out. While we didn’t have the funds to host a proper ball, I was blessed to attend two such affairs.”
His head was starting to ache more. A sharp jab and a raw twist inside his skull. Rubbing it as though it might help, Tristan tried to understand what she was saying because it hardly sounded right. “Two?”
Verity peered out the carriage window, still averting her gaze. It put her face right beneath the moonlight, which he didn’t think she noticed.
She is ageless as the sea and just as strange and beautiful.
“No. My father passed during the first month of my Season. There was no place for me in London after that.”
Stranger was how the words came out of her mouth, strained and defensive. He thought he saw her shoulders curve inward. He recalled how she had defended her father.
What had gone on with the former Marquess? It seemed that an inquiry was necessary. Perhaps she had saved old articles about his estate that might answer some questions.
Or I could ask her, I suppose.
Verity cleared her throat then, cracking a smile that almost felt genuine. “I missed the dancing. Living in the countryside doesn’t leave much opportunity for one to dance. It is very much a waste of my time, of course, but one should enjoy what pleasures they can. Don’t you think? Besides, I’m fairly certain that a duchess should dance.”
All he could do was offer a slow nod. The pounding in his skull kept him from forming words, so he relied on his wife’s chatter to fill the space between them.
“If there is anything more I should consider as a duchess, I suppose you shall inform me. One is meant to be somewhat sociable. Already, there is a stack of calling cards at the house. I didn’t expect so much so quickly if I am being honest. And nearly everyone I met this evening mentioned calling on us rather soon. Isn’t that generous of them?
“This may sound childish. I understand I am young and inexperienced, but the people I spoke to seemed genuine. There was mention of other such events taking place throughout the country, you know. Do you suppose there might be another ball soon? Not too frequently, I’m sure, but something to enjoy in the warm evenings. Oh! Perhaps I shall host something festive. I have always wished to, and I think the household would?—”
Tristan jerked his head up to stare at her. Letting her wander off to enjoy herself was a simple matter. But a party under his roof?
“That will not be necessary,” he told her.
She blinked at him several times. “Well, certainly not necessary. Very little in this world would be considered necessary. However, I do believe that we would do well to host an event while we are out here together.”
“No, it would not do well or be well,” Tristan insisted, restraining himself from shaking his head. The world spun for a moment. “I will not host any public or private event.”
“It doesn’t have to be a ball, Tristan.”
