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“You do?” the countess asked in disbelief. “Why on earth would you believe that about such a good man when his wife was the known bedlamite?”

The woman didn’t even have the audacity to look ashamed at her unveiled insult to their hostess.

“Verity is anything but disordered in the mind—”

The countess went on, “Perhaps you haven’t heard the stories from Alec himself then.” With great intention Ash turned his head to check Verity, only to find her face flushed with embarrassment.

“The lady’s behavior speaks for herself. Wouldn’t you agree?” Ash demanded,

“I do not agree. Did you not see what was served at dinner this evening? It was an affrontery to all—”

“That’s enough.”

The countess was fuming. He could see the red fury in her cheeks and could hear her heavy breathing from several feet away.

“How do you know she’s telling the truth?” she went on.

And wasn’t that just the dreaded question. Not because he didn’t have an answer, but because he did have an answer. An unsavory answer. An answer that would likely paint him into the same bedlamite corner as Verity. Years ago, he had been handed the dukedom. Some thought he’d snatched it right out of the hands of his older brother. All this time, Ash had only been working to prove them wrong. To prove his worth. To take responsibility. To prove he wasn’t just a rogue. To prove he could make something out of his life and not just eat what had been served right in front of him. Instead of proving any of that, by confessing to his recent roguish, unconventional ways, he was only giving the ton further ammunition to undermine his success. The bedlamite corner was never one he thought he’d be painted into.

But two in the same corner was better than one.

“I’ve seen it with my own eyes,” he admitted.

“How could that be? You hardly knew the man, and you’ve just arrived here.”

And he knew he had to confess the whole truth, no matter how poorly it portrayed him. If Verity was going down, he was going down with her, in hopes that he might raise her up.

Something had changed between them in the library. He could hardly explain his feelings except that it must be love if he was willing to open up about any of his secrets to such a public audience.

“I’ve been living here as a stablehand for a few weeks now, and—”

Gasps filled the room, followed by murmurings. It was unheard of for a man of the peerage—never mind a duke!—to live in such a humble fashion. But he didn’t care what they thought of him.

“Why would you do that?” The countess grimaced while she retreated a step, as if he might have ticks.

“I needed to see for myself what was happening over here. Be on the ground and hear the stories. The truth. Not just the fabrications or the placations.”

“But why?” The countess pushed.

“I wanted to know the truth about the property I’m about to invest in.”

“What?” Verity’s small question took him by surprise. And that’s when he realized what he had said. “So that’s why…That’s the real reason…” She just looked at him. Eyes pleading. Hands limp at her side. He had never seen her look so devastated. Like a boulder had just rolled right over her and stopped once it reached her center.

“Verity, I can explain—”

“No.” She put out her hand, and he swore he could see a glossy shimmer in her eyes. “You’ve said enough. I-I have to go.”

“Verity, wait.”

But she was already out the door.

Chapter 19

Verity

My Dear Lady Verity,

Forgiveness is always the answer you’re looking for. Hold onto it as though your life depends upon it.