Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

" T here is no scenario where you are coming with me!" James sputtered, scrambling to his feet as Violet continued to calmly watch him. "It is far too dangerous!"

"And it's far too dangerous for us to stay here without protection."

"Which is why the guards are staying with you."

"And then you will be in danger."

They stared at each other, and Violet felt a thrill at once again finding herself going head-to-head with her husband. But she clenched her jaw, revealing nothing as she stared him down.

"My life means little to me," he said finally. "And I think you'd be relieved if I were to perish, because then you could remarry and find yourself a husband who will give you children."

"If you perish," she shot back, "then this whole farce of a marriage will have been for nothing. Who, then, will protect us from my father? Iris and the Duke of Eavestone are still in Italy." She shook her head. "No, I need you alive if I am to keep my sister and my mother safe."

James hesitated, but she could see that he found this argument somewhat compelling.

"And what about you?" he asked. "Won't keeping you and your family safe be all in vain if you are killed by gangsters?"

"But we won't be," she countered briskly, "if the guards are there."

When he still looked unconvinced, she sighed and folded her arms across her chest. "Think of it like this—if you don't bring the guards, and you are harmed in some way, then you might not be able to achieve your main goal, which is to clean up the duchy. And if you don't clean up the duchy, then you will have failed to undo your father's legacy. So really, it is in your interest to bring us along."

"I…" James looked as if he were struggling to find words to argue with her.

Violet couldn't help but smile. Arguing with her husband was both vexing and strangely entertaining.

"Anyway, it will give me a chance to see what exactly our marriage brought you," she continued. "I'd like to see firsthand what the funds you received after our wedding will allow you to achieve."

James licked his lips. "These gang members… Violet, you don't understand. They kill people without even thinking twice about it. They are violent and deadly. You cannot come with me to meet them."

"I am not afraid of them," she insisted, tossing her head impatiently. "And perhaps they will soften once they meet me, my sister, and my mother. Once they know you have women to protect, perhaps they won't threaten you as much as they do now."

"I doubt it," James said skeptically.

"Regardless, it has been decided," she continued. "I have already spoken with Rosalie and Mama, and they have agreed to accompany us."

"You've what?! Violet, this is too dangerous! I absolutely forbid it. You all could be hurt, or worse."

"We are not delicate, fragile creatures." She raised an eyebrow. "We spent our lives dealing with and watching out for my father. We know how to handle ourselves."

She didn't give him another opportunity to argue. She stood up and strode to the door. Only once she was there did she turn back to look at him.

"Hurry up and get dressed, so we can make sure we aren't late to meet the gangsters."

James was left staring after her, furious and indecisive. On the one hand, he couldn't let his wife accompany him—he would only put her in danger. On the other hand, every point she made was valid. He couldn't risk his own life, but he also couldn't leave her here unprotected.

For a long moment, he sat on the settee, undecided. Then he made up his mind.

Once he had dressed, shaved, and eaten a quick breakfast downstairs, he pulled Violet into the hallway as his footmen prepared the carriage for their journey.

"You, Miss Rosalie, and Lady Carfield may come," he acquiesced as she adjusted her gloves. "But under no circumstances are you to say anything during the meeting. Do you understand that?"

"Of course," Violet said, looking as if this were the most obvious thing in the world. "I wouldn't know what to say to a gangster anyway."

"All right." James let out a long, slow exhale. "As long as you say nothing, and stand demurely in the back, then nothing bad can happen."

Then why did he have a feeling that the situation was already spiraling out of control?

"Well, well, well, if it isn't the Duke of Attorton come down from his high horse to grace us with his presence."

The man who stood at the foyer of the small inn where James, Violet, Rosalie, and Lady Carfield had driven to meet him was tall, with curly red hair streaked with gray, large hands, and one of the scariest faces Violet had ever seen. It was scarred, with bite marks and scratches, and when he raised his hand to push back a fiery red lock, she noticed that it was burnt.

He was, in other words, everything she had imagined a gangster might be.

"Farrell," her husband said, a grim look on his face as he strode forward. "We meet again."

Farrell gripped James's hand, and his cold, icy-blue eyes narrowed. "And hopefully under less unsavory circumstances than the last time we met."

"The last time we met, you were about to shoot a dog that hadn't performed well in the ring," James said coldly as he dropped Farrell's hand.

"Yes, and you thought it necessary to rescue the welp." Farrell waved a hand dismissively. "Although you always seem eager to protect down-and-out things, don't you?" His eyes flickered to Violet, her sister, and her mother. "Or is there another reason why you have married the spawn of the villainous Viscount Carfield?"

His eyes lingered on Violet, and she felt her blood run cold under his stare. This man was dangerous, she suddenly realized. He was taller than her husband and much broader, and James was already of a formidable stature. Not only that, but several ‘bodyguards' were stationed around the room, each one as large and frightening-looking as the last.

In comparison, their own guards felt like amateurs.

"Another man holds that title now," James pointed out coldly. "The man you are referring to has been stripped of his title and is in prison."

Farrell cocked his head. "That's not what I heard."

Fear shot through Violet.

So, Father's escape has made the rounds in the criminal underworld.

James, however, gave a small smile. "So you are well-informed. I'm glad to know that, at least. It tells me I am dealing with a formidable enemy."

Farrell spread his hands out in mock contrition. "And why should we be enemies, Your Grace? We are both businessmen, and I am here in your duchy, making you a rich man. The profits of my business enterprises are far-reaching, including your coffers. We fund the construction of many of the public facilities that pay taxes to you, including the church, the school, and several of the local taverns. Not to mention that your tenants make great sums of money from our fights, which they pay to you in rent every month."

Violet's heart was pounding in her chest.

Is this true? If so, how are we ever to dissuade people from giving this up?

James, however, looked undaunted, and she had to admire the cold, assured way her husband stared down the gangster.

"If you seek to frighten me by pointing out all the businesses that are in league with you, then save your breath," he spat. "I know that most of these good, well-meaning villagers only participate in your illegal activities out of fear. And the small sum they pay in taxes to me is nothing compared to the protection rackets that you run. They must pay you huge sums every month to keep themselves safe from your thugs. Don't pretend otherwise."

Farrell's face twisted in anger, but then he gave James a cold smile. "We keep the villagers safe from our rivals," he explained smoothly. "And they are grateful for that protection. As for the extra income that the fights bring… well, you can ask them yourself how helpful the money is."

"I have already spoken to my tenants," James said coldly. "I do not need to ask them again if your business benefits them. They live in fear of you, but even then, they have confided in me how you rule this area like a king. But let me remind you, Farrell—you are not a king. You are nothing but a lowly criminal who has elevated himself through intimidation and fear. And you will fall, just like every other pretender to the throne."

"So we are dropping any attempts at civility?" Farrell asked, stroking his beard. "Do we not respect one another to even discuss a partnership?"

"I don't respect anything about you," James snarled.

Violet wondered, as anger flashed in the gangster's eyes, if this was the best approach to take. Without thinking, she found herself stepping forward to address him.

"What my husband means to say is that you must have a price to leave the duchy."

Farrell turned his cold, surprised gaze on her, but Violet didn't flush under it. She held his stare, tilting her chin up defiantly.

"The Duchess speaks for her husband," Farrell drawled. "How very… modern."

"My wife does not speak for me," James said at once. He grabbed Violet's arm and leaned down to her ear. "What are you doing? This wasn't part of our agreement."

He was glaring daggers at her, but she met his gaze steadily. She knew he would get angry at her for interfering, but he was allowing his temper to get the better of him, and if he carried on like that, he wouldn't solve anything.

"Let me try," she whispered. "He's not that different from Father, and I dealt with him for years."

James looked extremely unhappy, but at last, he let go of her arm and allowed her to step forward again.

"You are a businessman," she continued, her eyes snapping back to Farrell's, who was watching the exchange with interest. "And, as such, you know that sometimes, the cost of keeping a concern going becomes too high. Under my husband's late father, you were allowed to carry out your business with impunity. But now, you face opposition from a duke. A very wealthy duke who has the power to shut down your operations if he wishes to."

"No one has the power to shut me down," Farrell said, sounding amused. "And your empty threats mean nothing to me."

"They aren't empty," Violet insisted. "We have all the power and money at our disposal to send the Bow Street Runners after you."

"Call them if you want to," Farrell scoffed, "but they won't find anything illegal. My businesses are air-tight. And my records are meticulous. I'm no fool."

"Perhaps they won't find anything the first time," Violet relented, nodding. "But what if they keep harassing you? Bringing charges against the men who work for you? Discovering all the small ways that the townsfolk have been profiting illegally from your businesses? They may not be able to stop you outright, but they can make your life very difficult. And worse than that, they can make it expensive ."

Farrell's eyes flickered, and Violet felt at once that she had struck a nerve.

"There are other places you could run your businesses—places where you will not incur the wrath of the Duke of Attorton. Is it really wise to stay here, when he will come for you with everything that he has?"

Next to her, Violet felt James shift. When she glanced at him, she could see a flicker of worry in his eyes. It seemed to say, Is it really wise to threaten him?

But they were all adults in a precarious situation, and sometimes threats had to be made.

Farrell took his time to respond. Instead of saying anything right away, he reached into the pocket of his jacket and produced a pipe. One of his bodyguards handed him a spill, and he went to the fire to light the end of it. He then raised the spill to the pipe and inhaled. The end of the pipe glowed red, and he slowly exhaled the smoke.

Violet tried not to cough. She was not used to being around people smoking. In fact, it was considered rude to smoke in front of ladies. But Farrell was no gentleman.

He leaned closer to her, and she felt James stiffen next to her.

"You are a feisty one, aren't you?" Farrell purred. "I wish I had more women like you around here. We'd get a lot more done, what with all the men being too deep in their cups half the time."

Violet gave him a cool look. "I would never help you. I've seen what happens to the dogs you cast aside. What you do is vicious and cruel. No creature should be treated that way—even a dog."

"So you still have the soft heart of a woman," Farrell noted, shaking his head. "That's too bad." He looked at James, and his expression darkened. "What exactly is it that you want, Your Grace? And I suggest you tell me yourself, instead of allowing your woman to do it for you."

"You will refer to the Duchess as Her Grace!" James roared, and for a moment, he looked so dangerous that even Violet felt afraid.

Farrell must have felt it, too, because he took a step back, and for a moment, fear flashed across his face.

"Very well," he muttered, righting himself. "I will address her by her title if you kindly tell me exactly what it is you want."

"I want you to leave my duchy once and for all," James said, without a moment of hesitation. "I want you to cease all your operations and never come back. Or else, as Her Grace said, I will come for you with everything I have, until I have ruined your business and you are left in shambles." He smiled maliciously. "In fact, I almost hope that happens, as it will ensure that you cannot carry on these despicable activities anywhere else."

Farrell's eyes narrowed. "And what of your people? They want me here. I make them a ton of money."

"Let me worry about my people," James snapped.

"I am merely pointing out that they are the ones you have to win over," Farrell argued. "You can push me out if you want, but if your people revolt against you, that will cost you more money than you have."

Violet felt a ball of dread settle in her stomach. There was truth to his words. He might leave, but if the tenants were unhappy, then they would either make James's life hell or they would pick up where Farrell had left off.

James, however, looked unconvinced. "You have twenty-four hours to think about what we have said," he warned. "Tomorrow, we will meet back here, at the same hour, and you will give me your answer—either get out or face my wrath."

He turned on his heel and, with a nod of his head, bade her to follow him. Violet risked one backward glance as she, her sister, and her mother followed James out, flanked by their guards. What she saw only heightened her uneasiness—Farrell was watching her, a small smile playing on his lips.