The instant Verity appeared in the morning room doorway, her mother swatted her with the newspaper. Then laughed. “I cannot believe you didn’t tell me. Your own mother. But oh, what gloating I will do the next time I see Elaine Hunnicutt. Therefore, my darling girl, you are forgiven.”
Her mother pressed a kiss to her cheek and Verity frowned, looking down at the paper. But before she could read it, Honoria snatched it. Then her eyes widened.
“Ah. Now I understand.” She looked at Verity and tsked. “Poor you. If you had only been a better liar then none of this would have happened.”
At the mention of her lying prowess, or lack thereof, a cold shiver of foreboding slithered down her spine. “And what is it that I have been accused of?”
“As if you didn’t know,” Lady Broadbent scoffed with a grin. Apparently, she was in on the joke with everyone else, but Verity still didn’t have a clue.
She leaned over the back of the sofa to snatch the paper from Honoria, but Althea beat her to it.
Thea frowned. “Looks like there’s been another speculation failure.”
“Other side,” Honoria singsonged as Mother and the countess were busily chatting over tea at the round table in the corner.
“I cannot believe it!” Thea huffed and glared at Verity as she crumbled the paper and threw it on the Aubusson rug. “Why does no one tell me anything?”
She stormed past her and headed out the door.
Verity shook her head in exasperation. Her entire family had lost their minds.
Bending down, she picked up the paper and smoothed it out against the top of the camel back sofa.
The words THE DUKE OF LONGHURST stood out in bold on the first line. She expected the next line to read ENGAGED. Yet, as her hand moved over the page, she saw the word ELOPED instead.
Her heart plummeted to the ground. The organ must have dropped all the way to her knees because her legs refused to hold her up. She had to clutch the sofa’s curved hump to stand upright.
He was married. It was over.
“But eloped?” she said to the room in disbelief. Why would he have eloped with Anna?
“I couldn’t keep it a secret any longer,” a low voice said from the doorway.
Startled, she whipped around, her head so dizzy she imagined she saw Magnus standing there. But that couldn’t be true.
So she blinked to clear her vision. And yet, he was still standing there, holding his hat in his hands.
“Longhurst?”
“I couldn’t keep it a secret any longer,” he repeated and took a step into the room, his gaze never leaving hers. “But we both knew that the truth was bound to come out sooner or later.”
Everyone was speaking in riddles today and she didn’t understand. “The truth?”
Behind her, her mother laughed.
Magnus continued toward her, his eyes bright with something she didn’t dare name. Not now. Not when it was too late. “The truth that we were married on Tuesday over a blacksmith’s anvil.”
“You were?”
“I was.” He nodded, still holding her gaze. “And you were.”
“Me?” She squeezed her eyes shut. Shook her head. This was some sort of dream, the kind where nothing made sense.
But then she felt the heat of him as he moved closer. Felt the brush of his breath against her cheek as he whispered, “You have to back me up on my lie, and then we’ll be even.”
Her eyes flew open to see copper irises, lit like brazier fires burning warmly. She felt the newspaper under her fingers and realized she hadn’t finished reading all the way.
THE DUKE OF LONGHURST
ELOPED WITH
MISS VERITY HARTLEY
Her astonished gaze flew back to his. “I don’t understand.”
“Oh, I think you do,” he challenged.
Her knees were shaking, but her heart seemed to lift and a tiny kernel of hope fluttered beneath her breast.
He’d told a lie. A whopping big lie.
The kind of lie that started a scandal.
“But what about your family? Your duty?”
“There are musts, wants and needs in every man’s life. Such as, I must honor my duty as the Duke of Longhurst to king, country and family. And I want to live a good life, to have sons and daughters, and to live long enough to see the fruits of my labor blossom and ripen. But then, there is need.” He took her hand. “At the core of my being, there is only one answer for this—I need Verity. Because I love Verity.”
A breath fell out of her. “You do?”
“More than I can bear. Without you, nothing else matters.” He brought her knuckles to his lips, and only then did she spot the purplish bruise around one eye.
She slipped her hand free and reached out to tenderly brush the swollen flesh. “Whatever happened?”
“Well, on my way here, I stopped to change horses at a coaching inn. By happenstance, your father and brother were there, too. Hawk and I had a chat, of sorts, and he”—his mouth curled ruefully—“welcomed me to the family.”
“Then everything is settled between the two of you?”
“It will be,” he said. “At least, it will when you give me your answer. So, will you, Verity?”
Her head was still spinning, trying to catch up with itself. “You mean, take part in your lie?”
He nodded again. “We’ll have to be convincing, of course. Stay together for the next fifty years or so. Have a dozen children.”
“A dozen?”
“There’s really no other way to settle the score between us. After all, you did make me dance with Mrs. Horncastle.”
Verity couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled up her throat. This was all so absurd, it had to be true. “I suppose it is only fair.”
“Then come on,” he said with a grin and tugged on her fingertips. “The carriage is waiting.”
Lady Broadbent and Mother encouraged this by shooing them out of the morning room.
It wasn’t until Verity stepped into the foyer that something occurred to her. “But what about your mother and my lack of fortune? That won’t be an easy mountain to climb.”
“You don’t know the half of it,” he said with an unconcerned chuckle. “Especially after I lost £1,000 on one of my brother’s foolish speculations.”
“That doesn’t sound like you.”
“I know, but I had to take the risk. It was the only chance I had of giving you, and our children, the life and future you deserve.”
She stopped and faced him squarely. “I don’t care about money. The only life I want is with you.”
“And that’s what I said to my mother when I told her that I was marrying you regardless.”
“I imagine that went over well,” she said dryly, even as her heart soared.
“Better than expected. In fact, she was actually in high spirits. Giddy, even.” He nodded at her disbelieving expression. “Apparently, shortly before my announcement, a messenger arrived with the news that a silver mine, which my father invested in years ago, wasn’t quite the disaster that it had seemed. But I’ll tell you more about it on the way.”
As they turned toward the door, Honoria called down from upstairs.
“Wait!” She glided swiftly down the steps, a valise in hand. Then she set it down and wrapped her arms around Verity. “I packed a few things for you. Lots of lace, you know, to keep you cool during all the sweltering evenings ahead.”
Verity blushed. She was just about to thank her sister when the front door suddenly burst open.
Nell Hunnicutt charged in, waving her own copy of the scandal sheet. “This is all a lie. I know for a fact that you aren’t married. I have it under good authority that you’ve been here, moping for weeks.”
“I don’t see that this is any concern of yours,” Verity said, offering her best lethal stare.
But Nell was in a rant and nothing could stop her. “Your Grace, I want you to know that I won’t allow her family to get away with this. For your sake. In fact, I will be more than glad to let the world know that this was all a ruse and an attempt to trap you. I’ve known it from the beginning. She made it all up.”
“Is that so?” Magnus asked. “Why don’t we step into the parlor, and you can tell me all about it.”
The Tick cast a triumphant grin over her shoulder at Verity when she took the arm of the duke and they walked across the foyer. “Well, it all started that day when . . .”
As she continued to explain, Verity watched as Magnus casually opened the door and gestured for her to precede him. Only it wasn’t the parlor. It was the closet beneath the stairs. And Nell didn’t even realize it until the door closed behind her.
“I think there’s been a mistake, Your Grace,” she said with a tittering laugh through the door. “But if this is about the ball, you must know that it was all in fun. Just a jest between old friends.”
“Hmm . . . I still think you owe my wife an apology.”
“She isn’t your wife,” the Tick hissed through the door. “There isn’t any way that a spinster like her could ever snag a duke!”
“It appears there is a way,” he said and turned the key in the lock. He gave it to Verity, who was tempted to take it all the way to Scotland.
Instead, she handed it to Honoria. “Promise you will open it the instant we leave.”
“Of course.” Honoria’s expression was a mask of innocence, with an impish glint in her eyes as they headed toward the door.
Then, just as Verity crossed the threshold, she saw Reverend Tobias stepping beneath the portico. And he was carrying flowers.
“Ah, Miss Hartley. You are looking well, all bright eyes and flushed cheeks. I thought, perhaps, you would join me for another . . . walk.” He hesitated as Magnus came up beside her, his gaze drifted to the hand Magnus had on her valise and the other wrapped possessively around her waist. “Apparently, I have arrived too late.”
His grin altered to one of chagrin as he handed her the bouquet.
Not knowing what to say, she offered, “Thank you.”
As he walked away, she looked up at Magnus, who arched a dark brow. He arched a brow. She shrugged. “Well, you were out with Anna. Was I supposed to sit here all alone?”
“Clearly not,” he groused, escorting her to their waiting carriage. “Is there anything you need to tell me?”
Before he handed her inside, she rose up on her toes and pressed her lips to his frown. “I should probably mention that you are the only man I have ever loved.”
He grunted in approval and kissed her. “Now get in the carriage before anyone else arrives.”
A throat cleared from near the other side of the carriage and they both turned to see a tall, handsome man dismounting from his horse.
“I don’t mean to intrude,” the stranger said, doffing his hat. “But is Miss Hartley at home?”
“Which one,” Magnus growled, cinching her to his side.
“Miss Honoria Hartley.”
Verity’s head tilted. She didn’t recognize this man as one of her sister’s usual suitors. “Is she expecting you?”
“I should think so,” he said, flashing a rakish grin. “I’m Viscount Vandemere.”
She gasped, but before she could say a word, Magnus interjected, “Miss Hartley is inside.”
The man inclined his head and walked past them.
“I need to tell my sister,” Verity said, trying to slip out of Magnus’s embrace.
He held fast. “She will be just fine. I’ve learned that the Hartley women are rather resourceful. So, get in the carriage.”
She huffed, her hands perched on her hips. “Is this really how you’re proposing to me?”
He kissed her stubborn chin, then her lips. And a few delicious moments later, he swept her off her feet and into the carriage without any further argument.
At least, for now.