CHAPTER 7

He really did have the nicest smile. That was the one thing that stuck with her the most.

He did not smile as much as she would have liked, but when he did, his whole face lit up. Verity had been absolutely captivated by that smile of his. Whenever she thought about it, it made her lips curl up as well.

The Marquess of Eilensdale… who was he?

She had never met him before, never seen him at any of society events, which only intrigued her more. Why was he so closed off? Why did he not want to show off his handsome face more? Verity was sure that he would have plenty of ladies eager to dance with him. She knew that she would be happy to say yes, if he were ever to ask her…

Verity kept trying to paint the orchids that she had seen in Kew Gardens, but it was truly hard for her to focus when she could not stop thinking about her short talk with him. Something about that chat had truly captivated her, it was almost as if nothing else mattered.

The sound of the door opening pulled Verity from her thoughts. Her mother slipped in the room with a warm smile and settled on the sofa in front of her.

"How is the painting coming along, darling?" she asked softly.

"Oh, it's…" Verity sighed as she set down her paint brush. "It's coming along…"

"Right, and how are you?"

That was a much harder question for Verity to answer. "I am not too sure what to say…"

"You know that you can tell me anything," her mother insisted. "Anything at all."

Verity bit down on her bottom lip.

She wasn't too sure if she should be open and honest. But she knew that if she wasn't, then her brother would get his own way and she could not stand that.

"Mother, I am concerned about Henry," she finally announced. "And his insistence on a match with Lord Aldford. I don't feel like it's a good idea."

"Why not?" her mother asked, evidently concerned. She had to understand since she had expressed her own concerns, even before the dinner.

"Because I don't like his character, Mother." Guilt flooded Verity as she said this, but she truly did need to be understood. "I think he is arrogant and bad mannered." She swallowed hard. "Plus, his daughters have shown me nothing but distain. I can tell that Amelia and Cordelia don't wish for me to be a member of their family."

"I am sure that they will come to like you given time."

"But I don't think that I will learn to like them," Verity confessed. "Any of them, but it's not something that I can discuss with Henry. He will not listen to me."

Elizabeth sighed heavily. "I will talk to your brother. See what I can sort out with him. I can not promise anything, but I will try my hardest to get him to reconsider the match. I do understand your concerns and will convey them as best I can."

"Do you think that he will listen to you?"

"I will ensure he does, Verity. For your happiness is of utmost importance. If you have reservations, then I will make sure that he hears and understands them. You should not feel pressured to accept a proposal solely for the sake of securing your future."

Before Verity could respond, a dark cloud entered the room.

It was as if she could sense her brother before she actually saw him.

Her blood ran ice cold when she spotted the flames of intense rage dancing in his eyes.

It was immediately obvious that he had heard far more than Verity wanted him to.

"Verity, sometimes I believe that you forget yourself," he snapped angrily as he edged closer to her. "I am sure that you have forgotten the fact that you are a spinster these days, and a jilted one at that. You have limited options available to you." He narrowed his gaze. "You should be grateful for Lord Aldford's interest. I am sure that he could find someone younger, with less scandal following them if he wanted. But he has chosen you."

A surge of frustration and despair rocketed through Verity. "But I have not chosen him, nor would I. You are making this match a priority over my own happiness, which is not fair. Henry, you are not even giving me a say in what is next for me."

Henry scoffed, clearly unmoved. "You had your chance to find a love match when you were a debutante. It's not my fault that things did not work out."

"It's not my fault either."

But Henry cocked a knowing eyebrow at Verity, as if he did blame her for what had happened four years ago.

He knew that Cedric had abandoned her in favor of her best friend.

He knew how much that had been like a dagger to Verity's heart.

He had seen her hurt and crying, he had witnessed her falling apart, yet still thought it was acceptable to throw it in her face.

Verity was honestly left speechless by her brother's heartlessness. Who was Henry these days? What had happened to the boy that she had so much fun with?

"Verity, you would be very unwise not to take this seriously," he continued as if he could not see her heart cracking in her chest all over again. "You will regret this if you make a mess of things with Ambrose. I don't see any other opportunity coming your way. If you don't secure a match this Season, then I don't know what I will do with you."

A thick lump of emotion formed in Verity's throat.

She did not want to be constantly considered a burden, but if she'd had her way, she would have been married years ago. Of course, she was a little bit grateful that she had not married Cedric now. She certainly did not wish to commit to someone who could be so heartless and cruel, and to someone who could leave her for her friend, but she had to admit that life would have been a whole lot easier if everything had worked out differently. She would be settled in to being a wife now and would likely have a family of her own. There would be no more societal expectations pressing down on her shoulders. She would be able to relax at last.

But that wasn't her reality. Instead, she was faced with the relentless pressure from her brother and society to make a match she did not want. The weight of it was suffocating.

Her mother's soft hand on her shoulder was a small comfort. "Henry, please, there must be another way. Verity deserves happiness as much as anyone else."

Henry's jaw tightened; his frustration evident. "Mother, we must be pragmatic. The luxury of waiting for true love is not one we can afford. Verity must understand that. I don't understand why I have to keep repeating myself. It's thoroughly frustrating that none of you will listen to me."

Verity felt a surge of defiance rise within her.

She could not simply accept this fate. She had to find a way to carve out her own path, to find a life that would bring her true contentment, not one dictated by societal expectations and her brother's ambitions. She just had to find a way to make him understand that…

But he wasn't about to listen to her now. Henry was done. Leaving.

After Henry stormed out of the room, her mother turned to her, eyes filled with sorrow and determination. "Don't lose hope, my dear. We will find a way. You are not alone in this. I am going to assist you in any way that I can."

Verity nodded, though uncertainty gnawed at her. "Thank you, Mother."

Her mother nodded just the once, before leaving the room, seemingly sensing that Verity needed some more time alone.

Which she most definitely did.

As she returned to her painting, she allowed herself to think once more of Lord Philip Easton. Perhaps, if she saw him again, there might be a chance to explore the connection she felt. Maybe he could offer a different path, one not dictated by her brother's ambitions.

Verity realized that convincing her brother to see her perspective would be an uphill battle, especially when he wasn't entirely wrong.

But the idea of resigning herself to a life devoid of love and companionship wasn't something that she could really fathom. It all made her feel sick to her stomach. Especially as she thought of marrying Ambrose.

He horrified her most of all.

Verity sighed and left her painting behind. All the creativity and inspiration had been sucked out of her. She knew that she could not remain in this room any longer, it was all becoming too much for her. Her whole body was itching for something else.

Verity walked through the house, her foot steps echoing in the empty halls, each step heavier than the last, like a dark cloud was now settling over her. Eventually, Verity found herself in the garden, her sanctuary. The sweet scent of roses and the gentle rustling of leaves provided a temporary solace from the storm brewing in her life, the one that seemed to be intensifying with every passing moment.

She sat on the wrought iron bench, her thoughts racing. Could she truly defy her brother's wishes? Could she risk the ire of her family and society to seek her own happiness? What sort of life did she really want for herself?

Her mind wandered back to the Marquess of Eilensdale. He had been a glimmer of something different, something genuine in a world that felt increasingly like a cage. He was the sort of man that she might really want… but as a spinster, and a jilted one at that, she knew that a Marquess was far out of her reach.

Plus, it was just one short conversation. Perhaps she needed to put much less stock in to it.

As Verity sat in the garden, she fought to hold back the tears threatening to spill.

The vision of a future with Lord Aldford loomed large in her mind, suffocating her with its bleakness. She imagined living in his grand, cold estate, surrounded by his daughters' disdainful glances and biting remarks. She pictured herself at the dining table, trying to engage in polite conversation while they made it clear she was an unwelcome intruder. She envisioned holidays and social events, where she would be a mere shadow, overshadowed by Ambrose's arrogance and his daughters' cruelty.

The thought of enduring a loveless marriage, of lying beside a man who saw her as nothing more than a convenience, filled her with dread. Her heart ached at the prospect of never experiencing true affection, of being denied the warmth of a loving partner and the joy of a harmonious family.

Verity took a deep breath, her chest tightening with each inhale. She needed to compose herself, to find strength in the midst of her despair. Rising from the bench, she made her way back to the house, her steps slow and deliberate. She moved with purpose, her mind set on retreating to her bed chamber, the only place where she could truly be alone to gather herself up once more.

She had a strength inside of her, she just needed to find it once more.

As she climbed the stairs, she could hear the faint murmur of voices from the drawing room. But she wasn't about to get dragged in to another conversation with her mother and Henry. Not now with her emotions all over the place.

So she continued to escape them, trying her hardest not to let the tears fully fall until she was alone.

As she reached her bed chamber, Verity closed the door behind her, leaning against it for a moment, allowing herself to breathe.

She crossed the room and sank on to the edge of her bed, finally letting the tears fall freely. Her cheeks were soaked within moments, she really was a mess. Each drop was a release of the pent up frustration, sadness, and helplessness she had been holding inside. Feelings that did not feel like they had anywhere to go at all.

Verity had never felt so alone in her whole life.