His Lady Mistress

136 His Lady MistressHis conscience nagged. Could he really blame her for wantingsafety? She hadn’t meant to trap him. Shaken, he realisedthat he believed her—that she would never have told himwho she was if he hadn’t found out.If only she hadn’t been Verity Scott. A woman whom hehad no choice but to protect with his name. If only she hadbeen, in truth, Selina. He looked down at her again. Darkshadows beneath her eyes sent a stab of pain through him.She must be exhausted. Carefully, he brushed his fingers overher exposed cheek again. So soft. Silken.‘Sleep well.’A soft sigh breathed from her as she snuggled against thepillow and shifted her cheek against his caress. Reluctantlyhe withdrew his hand.Then, very softly, he drew the bed hangings and left.A shaft of light struck across Verity’s eyes. Slowly sheopened them and blinked. Apart from the sunbeam peepingin, one side of her bed hangings was closed. When had shedone that? Verity snuggled her cheek into soft down, yawning.She remembered going to bed, but not shutting the hangings.Another memory came to her. A gentle caress and avelvet dark voice: Sleep well. A dream. No more.She sat up and stretched. She’d made some decisions lastnight, about her marriage. She didn’t know if she could carrythem out successfully, but she’d have to try. It was the onlyway in which she could salvage some of her self-respect.She would have to make the best of her marriage, showMax that he could trust her. Somehow she had to convinceher husband that she was not the harlot he thought her. Hehad cared for Selina. She was sure of it. Couldn’t he learn tocare for Verity? Just a little?Lady Arnsworth’s summation of the duties of a wifemocked her. She set her chin mulishly. She didn’t believe it.Papa and Mama had loved one another. She knew that. AndPapa had been a gentleman, the younger son of a viscount.