If only her friend had seen everything she had tried so far. Already Verity was running out of ideas. She tried to please her husband. To ignore him. To entertain him. To lure him to spend time with her. To entreat him. What more could she do? Bribe him? All of this was his.
Sometimes he hardly seems human. I know he is. It’s silly to think otherwise. He is flawed. Handsome and stern and stubborn and flawed with a rare laugh. I know part of him must be decent. He could have treated me badly. He could have refused to protect me. Did I really consider the price I would pay to take his name?
Marriage was an uncomfortable state to live in, she decided, and she only grew more uncertain every day. Though she knew the staff and nearly every room in the townhouse, she felt like she was losing part of herself lately.
Her lips quirked up; not quite a smile, but close. “I never needed permission for that.”
She promised such with a long look at her friend. It was enough for the other woman to nod.
“Good,” Helena responded, rising to her feet. “Because the moment you stop fighting is the moment he wins.”
Warmth flooded Verity’s chest as she was reminded of how strong Helena truly was. Though women didn’t fight on the battlefield, it didn’t mean they were never at war.
All her life, she had been fighting. She had thought of her father throughout the years, yearning for his attention and then protecting her name. Taking care of her home and the land and her tenants. She was always fighting. Sometimes she lost the battle, for no one was perfect.
But it doesn’t mean I have to give up. And I won’t. If Helena could survive her marriage, then certainly I can survive mine. I’ll find a way to have the life I want.
Verity stood up as well. “Oh, I don’t plan on letting anyone win but myself.”
CHAPTER 17
The ladies moved out to the garden, where he could watch them from above like an unfeeling god. Or so Tristan told himself. He took a sip of his smooth, rich brandy while trying to keep track of Julian’s nattering.
“Not that the man believed me. I only look like a dandy, after all. No one would expect me capable of lifting a barrel. He told me, ‘Right, My Lord. You move that barrel across the room and I’ll pay your tab tonight.’ And I couldn’t help but laugh. It wasn’t even full, you know. Ridiculous man. Fool. But a win all the same, as I didn’t have to pay a thing all night.”
“You’re a rich man, aren’t you?” Tristan reminded him mildly.
A loud laugh echoed through the room. “Certainly,anda bored one. You know I can’t resist a good bet. Especially when I’m so confident I’ll win.”
The ladies then moved toward the large white gazebo. The tall structure could be seen from the street at times. Folks had inquired about it before and noted how lovely it was. Subtle requests for an invitation to his home that always went unanswered.
Still, this meant the ladies were about to disappear from view. He leaned in further until his forehead touched the glass.
His wife had let her hair down. Her curls fluttered in the breeze, as if deliberately defying Society’s dictate to pin it up or hide it under those hideous white bonnets. She walked with her shoulders back, confident and calm. Then, she turned around, laughing.
Is her friend making her laugh? Lady Marsten. We were introduced at the wedding, but I cannot recall a conversation of note. Even I heard of her reputation when she came out a year or so after I married Cassandra. Daughter of a powerful marquess, yet she married an old baron. Still, it seems that widowhood has worked out well for her.
They looked as close as could be, bosom friends who shared every secret. Were they talking about him?
Questions flooded his mind, though there was no way to answer any of them unless he asked Verity. But he couldn’t do that. Just the thought of asking her…
And then the two ladies disappeared under the canopied structure.
He let out a huff of annoyance.
“That awful, hm?”
Jerking at the realization that his friend was right there at his elbow, Tristan glared at him. “What are you doing?”
“Talking to you because, apparently, you can’t hear me from over there.” Julian flashed him a grin before nodding his chin toward the gazebo. “I didn’t take you for an overprotective husband. You never hovered over Lady Cassandra.”
Looking away, Tristan said, “I’m not hovering.”
“Certainly you aren’t. You are simply… watching from your secret tower to… what? Keep her company? It’s obvious that my company does nothing for you. You didn’t even enjoy seeing our friends the other day. Has she already monopolized your attention?”
“I enjoyed seeing our friends,” Tristan corrected him. He recalled how tense the billiards game had begun as his friend threw him a look. Hesitation overtook his prior annoyance. “I suppose I’ve grown unused to enjoying myself. And the company of others.”
Julian nodded and took a step back. “I noticed. You’ve always struggled with that.”
