Finally, she made it to her chamber door. The entire walk, she had debated whether or not to turn around.
It wasn’t until she grabbed the doorknob with one hand, holding the linen towel and coat in the other, that she decided to turn around and face him.
He had already stopped. He was carrying a candle that cast a golden glow on his face, though much of his eyes remained in shadow. He watched her but didn’t say a word.
Would we ever speak if I didn’t keep opening my mouth?
The very idea left Verity too worried to test it out. She couldn’t imagine such a life. How lonely it would be. How lonely she already felt.
So she grasped her anger for courage and spoke up, daring him to remain silent even then.
“Why?” she bit out in the loud silence. “Why do you keep doing this? All you wish to do is ignore me, don’t you? To leave me, to pretend that our marriage doesn’t exist. It only matters to you in the moments that you decide. You’ll appear when you wish and disappear when it benefits you and no one else. Why do you treat me thus? Do you care at all?”
She silently begged him to reply, to say anything. He could even lie to her, so long as he would simply answer her.
They might not have been married for long, but she knew that Tristan was capable of goodness. He had loyal friends and servants. She had seen the accounts—he paid well and treated his tenants fairly. The man had served in the military because he cared about justice and unity. And he had married her to protect her name and honor.
Is that all a lie as well? He confuses me, and it hurts me to my soul. It is as though he has closed a door in my face without ever giving me a chance.
Tristan offered her no answer. She thought she saw a glimpse of something in his eyes. Hope or sorrow or anger, she could not tell. The man was made of too many mysteries. And she was cold—so cold—and had nothing else to keep her there.
Her heart begged her to give him more time, to wait a little longer, but she couldn’t stay there forever, waiting for her husband to make up his mind.
“That’s what I thought,” she murmured with a sigh.
It was her turn to close the door in his face.
CHAPTER 25
Tristan dropped his hand from the closed door, unsure how long he had stood there, listening to his wife on the other side.
He could hear her teeth chattering for a while. The housekeeper had indeed drawn a hot bath for her, and two maids were currently there, assisting her. He heard murmurs, but they were muffled.
Eventually, everything quieted. Side doors for the servants opened and closed, leaving his wife alone. Leavinghimalone.
He still wasn’t sure about what had just happened.
If only I could get her words out of my head.
Perhaps it was better that she was there instead of Cassandra.
That realization made him step back. In fact, Verity was there more often, of late.
Turning around, Tristan marched to his bedchamber, where he paced back and forth to stew over this discovery.
While he had his disagreements and concerns with his wife, Verity wasn’t a manipulative witch like Cassandra.
“Do you care at all?”
Those last words echoed in his mind. He tugged at his hair, running his fingers through it repeatedly as he considered the answer. He didn’t seem to know his mind nor his heart nor any part of himself of late.
But what if I did? What if I could know? A man cannot be lost to himself, not forever. In an effort to block out the past, I’ve severed myself from the future—even the present.
“Your Grace?”
Tristan nearly jumped out of his skin.
“Blast it!” Holding his heart, he stared at his valet, who stared back with wide eyes. “What is it? The hour is late.”