His body went stiff, rooted to the ground, and his irritation grew.
Verity smiled at the Countess. “As I said, we are very appreciative. Thank you for thinking of us.”
Nodding with glee, the older woman clapped her hands. “Emily and I shall have a new invitation hand-delivered before the day is out. We shall add you to the list. How wonderful!”
Though Verity smiled, she didn’t smile at him.
The Countess took her leave then, with her daughter and dogs in tow.
An uncomfortable silence settled between them. Though Verity gave him an odd look, she said nothing.
Perhaps he had made a mistake.
Their ride home was quiet but for the chaos of the London streets. And once they were in the townhouse, they went their separate ways, uncertainty growing every minute.
CHAPTER 20
While it was surely meant to be a blessing to have such a distinguished and honorable duke for a husband, Verity felt more inclined to throttle him instead of thanking him for bringing her to the Renfields’ Harvest Ball four nights later.
The Earl and Countess welcomed them in the receiving line, as did their three dogs that nearly ripped Verity’s dress.
If they did, could I have used this as an excuse to leave?
But she wouldn’t leave. She knew this, and Tristan probably knew this as well. This was a ball, and no one dared to leave before midnight. Besides, she had loved the Countess’s previous balls; surely, she would enjoy this one as well.
But I wish I knew what Tristan is up to this evening. Why did he accept the invitation? If only I could bring myself to ask him.
Hearing him accept the invitation to the ball had stunned her so much that she had been at a loss for words, unable to think straight for hours. But by then, she was alone. She didn’t bring him a dinner tray that night or the nights that followed, still trying to understand.
She almost hadn’t prepared for tonight, supposing he must have changed his mind. But he was there when she was ready to leave.
“Duchess,” he had murmured while helping her into the carriage, instead of letting a footman do his duty. She could swear she had felt his heat, though they both wore gloves.
That was the first word Tristan had said to her in days.
“Do you wish to take my arm?”
She started now, fiddling with her reticule. It was new and matched her very lovely gown. Boasting a similar cut to the green one, it was a midnight blue instead, with a silver lace trim. Tiny beads formed stars around her sleeves, and several star pins were placed into her hair as well.
Looking up at Tristan, she felt the air rush out of her lungs. Her husband stared at her with such intensity that she felt like he might very well consume her very existence.
He appeared so composed. He spoke in a low voice so no one else could hear him, offering a touch only when it seemed necessary.
Judging by the curious stares, she supposed it was for the best. She gave a slight nod of her head. It took her a minute to find her voice. Once he lifted his arm, she accepted it.
“Thank you, husband,” she murmured.
“My pleasure.”
For a second, Verity held her breath, thinking he might say something more.
They were standing off to the side of the ballroom, where everyone could see them. Wouldn’t he wish to leave the room for a smaller one?
She was learning that he cared little for crowds in close quarters. But he said nothing. It was like he was waiting for her.
If he is, can he not just tell me?
She let out a long, annoyed sigh. Just when she thought they were making progress in their relationship, he erected a long, wide, icy wall between them.
