Page 13 of The One With the Rogue Duke

“It was told to me in confidence by her sister, my wife—”

“Then tell me in confidence what I need to know.” Ash kicked at the dirt and gripped the half wall of the stall beside him. Anything to refrain from letting a punch fly at Soren’s sharp jaw.

“Fine. But if I do divulge some of her secrets, you should really tell her who you are.”

“I second that.” Rafe spoke with his hand in the air.

“I’ll think about it. Now tell me.”

“Pru said that Verity has such tough skin because when she was born, her mother went into some kind of melancholic state. Wouldn’t touch her for the first week. Maybe longer. It took a while for her to finally hold her. And after that, their relationship was always a bit strained. Like the mother always expected something more from her.”

“Like what?” That was the first question Rafe asked that Ash was pleased to hear.

“For starters, for her to be a man. She’s the fourth and last of four girls.”

The men fell into a tense silence.

Verity had been vulnerable. He’d witnessed it. But she’d finally let her guard down and let him see that there was more to her than a pretty face. She hated a liar.

Ash knew what he had to do. But how? It felt too late now. The damage had been done. He could just let her believe the lie of who he was for now. Maybe it was better that way. Better that she not know the truth about him.

Chapter 8

Verity

My Dear Lady Verity,

Should you choose to remarry, your time with us will be short. However, before you make the decision to lock yourself down—again—you may wish to consider what advantages there are to being a widow.

Yours Truly,

Lady Wyndam

Founding Widow of the Widows’ League

“Do you ever get lost in this maze, Verity?” Temperance asked, dragging her finger all the yew hedge.

“At first, but not anymore.”

“I hope none of the house guests lose their way.” At the T-junction, Pru cast a gaze left and then right. “Which way?”

Verity could not stop thinking about Ash and that abominable kiss. The one that had rattled her toes. So in a cavalier—that was the nice way of saying ignorant—answer to her sister, she merely shrugged. “You decide,”

“I can’t just decide. One of the choices will be right, and one of them will be wrong.”

Verity popped her shoulders again. “Will it?”

“Yes,” Pru huffed. “So which way is right?”

“It’s more fun if we figure it out on our own, Pru.” Temperance put a hand on Verity’s shoulder. “Don’t ruin it for us.”

“Speaking of ruination—I kissed the new stablehand,” she blurted out the words before she could really think about them. Sometimes words just had to get out and there was no stopping them.

“What?” Pru looked at her, mouth gaping open and then flapping closed. Somewhat like a fish fresh out of water.

“You did?” Temperance’s question was laced less with disbelief—or even admonishment, which Verity hadn’t expected—but significantly laden more with awe.

“Yes.” Verity rolled her shoulders back, forcing herself to speak from her chest. “I did.”