“Fine,” Veronica replied before settling back into her seat and burying her face in the periodical once more. She tugged up the fur on her lap, ostensibly to ward off the chill in the air.

Arms still firmly crossed over his chest, Sebastian turned his head and stared out the window at the barren December landscape. How in the hell had his once-promising marriage turned into this?

Veronica wistfully perused the latest fashions. It was ridiculous to care about such things when she hadn’t been in Society for so long, but she did so love beautiful clothing. Though she’d barely been able to concentrate on the periodical what with Sebastian sitting not a stone’s throw away from her, the familiar scent of his cologne teasing her nostrils and reminding her of a half a score of memories she desperately wanted to erase from her mind.

Every rotation of the coach’s wheels carried them closer and closer to Whitmore Manor…closer and closer to their bedchamber at Whitmore Manor. The thought made Veronica both anxious and (if she was being honest) excited. She agreed to Sebastian’s outrageous condition for three reasons. First, she wasn’t exactly in the best position to negotiate since she was the one asking him for a favor. She’d do anything to make Grandpapa’s last days on earth happy ones…and it wasn’t exactly as if it would be a chore. Sebastian was, ahem, gorgeous, after all. And why shouldn’t she enjoy herself in bed with the rogue for a bit when she was destined to return to her lonely life in the country afterward? Second, it wasn’t as if she’d be in any danger of falling back in love with the scoundrel. She’d long ago stopped caring what he was doing, stopped wondering who he was with. She was well and truly over him, and no silly agreement would change that. Third, and most importantly, the moment Sebastian made his request, she’d been overwhelmed by…well, hope was the only word for it. This would be her only chance for a baby. She’d be a fool not to take it. If it gave him what he wanted too, an heir, so be it.

“We should talk,” Sebastian’s voice nearly startled her.

She lowered her periodical and blinked at him. “Talk? About what?”

He shrugged. “You know? What’s been going on in our lives…in case your grandfather asks a question we cannot answer.”

Veronica frowned. “Hmm. You’re probably right.”

“I’m certain it pained you to admit that,” Sebastian replied with a haughty grin.

She rolled her eyes. “Given that I don’t care to hear about your conquests with women,” she said, trying to keep her lip from curling. “What else have you been up to?”

“Parliament mostly,” he replied, obviously ignoring her jab. “And social obligations. Most of them excruciatingly boring. What have you been up to? How are you keeping busy in the country? Done any painting?”

Veronica’s chest went tight. Painting? She’d loved to paint when she was a girl. She’d told him that…once, a long time ago. It seemed like a lifetime. She hadn’t painted in years, however, and for some reason it made her wistful knowing that he remembered. She’d barely mentioned it. “I don’t have any paints,” she answered honestly, doing her best to keep all emotion from her voice.