The dowager was beautiful, with dark black hair and sparkling emerald eyes. Her age hadn’t diminished her beauty one whit.

“Good morning, Your Grace,” the lady had said as she came to stand next to Veronica. Delight had shot through Veronica. She’d already forgotten that she was a duchess and would be referred to as ‘Your Grace’ by most everyone.

“I love the sunrise,” Veronica had said, a huge smile on her face.

“How charming,” the dowager had drawled. “Young people are so full of optimism.”

Veronica had frowned, not exactly certain how to reply to that. She’d hoped Sebastian’s mother would be content with quietly watching the sunrise since that was what she preferred, but the dowager hadn’t remained silent for an entire minute before she said, “I want you to know something, my dear.” A serious look had fallen over the woman’s face and a knot formed in Veronica’s middle.

“My husband, the late duke, wasn’t faithful to me a day of our marriage.”

Veronica had been forced to stifle a gasp. Why was the duchess sharing such intimate information with her?

“I see,” was all Veronica had managed to croak, but a thousand thoughts were already racing through her head. Awful memories of her parents’ fights, her mother’s sobs.

“It was quite painful,” the dowager continued. “He had a mistress. One he never relinquished.”

Veronica had wanted the ground to open and swallow her. All she could do was nod. Was it possible the dowager knew about her own father’s infidelity? Or was it merely that most men cheated? Most men except Grandpapa…and Sebastian, of course.

“You should know…” the duchess had continued, a pinched, angry look on her face. “Sebastian has a mistress.”

In that moment, time stopped. The breath was stolen from her lungs and Veronica began shaking so violently she had to move over a few steps to place a trembling hand on the stone wall that surrounded the garden. She turned to stare at the duchess, unblinking. She wanted to say something, anything, but it felt as if she’d been punched directly in the gut and words had failed her.

“Her name is Melissa,” the duchess offered next.

It felt as if Veronica’s stays were slowly pressing the life from her body. Was Sebastian’s mother truly informing her that her son would not be faithful? Had Veronica just made a terrible mistake marrying him? “No. No. Not Sebastian,” she’d finally said. But she wasn’t entirely certain if she was defending him or trying to convince herself.

“Don’t believe me? Ask him. And if I were you,” the duchess continued, “I would secure Sebastian’s promise…immediately…to rid himself of her. Put your foot down now or you’ll end up like I did. Heartbroken. And alone.”

Thankfully, a pair of wedding guests had entered the garden just then and the four of them were forced to exchange greetings. Veronica had used the interruption to make her excuses and flee back into the house, but she’d spent the rest of the day mortified, barely able to speak more than a word or two as she and Sebastian spent the day saying good-bye to their many guests.