“Tristan,” she started, a note of desperation in her voice.
He couldn’t turn around. He ducked his head and rushed past her. “Good night, Verity.”
He left her alone on the stairs, putting distance between them once again.
His heart pounded as he considered what had nearly transpired. How she had pulled him in with ease, how dearly he had wanted to kiss her and whisper his secrets, and how he could never let that happen.
Perhaps the distance would not be happy or satisfying, but it would keep them safe.
CHAPTER 24
Although Verity meant to retire to her bedchamber, she found herself outside instead. The moon offered her enough light to see around their private garden. She’d explored the grounds often enough to walk around in the dark, which she soon had to do when the rain started falling.
It came without warning, like so many troubles in her life.
Never could I have predicted tonight. Or this marriage. Or my father’s death or the effects of his beliefs on the ton. Where do these storms come from to disrupt my life so drastically?
“Your Grace?” A footman appeared as she rounded a corner, offering her an umbrella. “Shall I cover you?”
“No, thank you. I wish to be alone,” Verity replied.
His eyes widened, and he looked like he might argue, so she turned the next corner to move on. She just needed some time to think.
The rain wasn’t so terrible. It had been a warm day, a chaotic evening, and it wasn’t as though she wished to save her gown.
It would be ruined like so many other parts of her life.
Could it all be me?
A shaky breath escaped her as she wrapped her arms around herself for warmth. Though a shiver ran down her spine, she ignored it to think over everything that had happened that evening.
What a whirlwind it had been. She couldn’t keep up with Tristan, she feared. Her husband preferred secrets and silence above all. The man was too contrary.
And yet remembering their almost kiss brought a flush to her cheeks that warmed her at once. She felt that rush of excitement and hope that had pierced through her very soul when his hand had touched her face.
He’d removed his gloves on the way home. He did that regularly, a fact she’d never paid mind to until she was thanking the heavens for it tonight.
Except nothing had happened. Not really.
He hadn’t kissed her. Their lips had been so close. She couldn’t move, didn’t dare breathe for fear of ruining the moment. And yet, somehow, she had. All she had done was try to close the distance between them when he stopped moving.
Had that surprised him? Perhaps ladies weren’t meant to be so forward. She wondered if he had even meant to kiss her.
“Your Grace?”
For what felt like the hundredth time, Verity pushed back damp hair from her forehead. She squinted to see Mr. Philipson moving toward her with haste, an umbrella over his head.
Water trickled down her spine, and the chill of it made her gasp. As she looked around, she realized just how dark the evening had grown. It would have to be past midnight by now. And it was pouring so hard that her shoulders were starting to hurt. She glanced down to see her gown plastered to her body.
“Your Grace, please, I must accompany you inside at once,” the butler told her. His wide-eyed, concerned look confirmed that she looked dreadful.
Swallowing, she forced a nod. Her arms tightened around herself. “Very well. I do believe it might be for the best.”
“The servants are worried about you, Your Grace,” he said, standing closer than appropriate in his attempt to keep herdry. But she didn’t mind, appreciating the cover as they started toward the house. “Is there anything I can do to assist you?”
“No, I’m all right,” she replied as her teeth started to chatter.
They were still chattering, hard enough to make her jaw ache, by the time they reached the terrace. She struggled to walk with her skirts sticking to her legs, her petticoats no longer able to do their job. Her hair fell limp around her face, as her coiffure could no longer resist the rain.
