Chapter 16

Chapter Sixteen

" I t feels so good to be home," Violet sighed as she looked around at the endless bookshelves in the Duke's library. "Even if it is filled with dust."

"I'm glad to be back as well," Rosalie, who was standing behind her, piped up, "although I never thought the day would come when I wouldn't enjoy being in a library."

"This one is particularly gloomy," Violet admitted. "But that's why we have to sort everything and clean it all up! So that you can't find the books you're looking for."

"Yes… but I don't know why we have to do it," Rosalie complained. "Isn't this why your husband has servants?"

Violet turned and gave her sister a reproving glare. "You're the one who has been complaining that the library is a mess and you can't find anything. Therefore you should be the one to help me clean it up!"

"Your logic isn't completely unsound," Rosalie grumbled. She picked up a book so covered in dust that the cover was unreadable and, using a hankie, wiped off the dust. "Ahh, this one looks interesting. A Report on the Cash Crops of Southern St. Lucia ."

Her sarcasm was obvious.

"I'm sure there are some that will interest you more," Violet said. "The Duke is bound to have a few romance novels in here."

"Is he?" Rosalie sounded skeptical. "He isn't exactly a romantic. Well, except with you."

Before Violet could answer dismissively, the door to the library creaked open, and a small, furry head appeared.

"Samson!" Rosalie squealed. "He found us!"

The puppy barked happily, then pushed the rest of his way into the room and ran towards them, his floppy ears bouncing. Rosalie went to him at once, scooping him up in her arms.

"Look how big he's gotten since we came back!"

"You're imagining it," Violet scoffed. "A dog can't grow that much in one day."

But as she looked at the puppy, she thought her sister had a point. In the week they'd been back from the duchy, Samson had seemed to grow several inches each day. He was still adorable, though, and small enough to carry in their arms. And his presence added a great deal of liveliness and love to the house.

"I think he needs to be taken out for a walk," Rosalie said, putting him back down. "I can take him, though."

"You're just trying to get out of cleaning the library with me!" Violet protested.

Rosalie flashed her a mischievous grin. "Perhaps. Come on, Samson. That's a good boy!"

She snapped her fingers, and the dog followed her back across the library and out the door.

Once she was alone, Violet let out a long sigh. Of course, Rosalie was going to try and get out of organizing the library. She was a dreamer, not a doer. Violet, on the other hand, liked to get things done.

After some consideration, she set to sorting the books, cleaning them and arranging them by topic and author's name. She had just gotten through an entire shelf of books when the door opened again.

"Back already, are you?" she asked, without turning.

"Was I here earlier and I don't recall it?" her husband asked.

She turned quickly at the sound of his voice. He was standing at the door, cloaked in shadow, but he took a step forward into the light and smiled at her.

"I don't think I have memory loss, but if I do, I'd rather forget last week than this one."

"James!" Her heart thudded loudly in her chest. "I've barely seen you all week!"

And it was true. It was almost as if he had been purposefully avoiding her. He hadn't even joined her for dinner the last two nights.

"I know." He grimaced. "I've been very busy following up on everything. I've set up loans and some grants for the townspeople to start new, legal businesses. I've also hired more guards to ensure that Farrell and all his people are gone. I had several meetings with the people at Scotland Yard to discuss his arrest. Together, I think we have collected enough evidence of his wrongdoings that we can have him prosecuted for his crimes. They also wanted to know more about the kidnapping and to see if I wanted to press charges."

"Do you?" Violet asked.

"Well, I told them it would be up to you. You were the wronged party, after all."

Violet bit her lip as she considered this. She'd noticed recently that she had stopped caring when she bit her lip. Even if it was something her father did, it didn't mean she was like him.

"I think I'd rather not interact with Farrell anymore," she said slowly. "If there is enough evidence of his crimes to put him away without involving me and the kidnapping, I would prefer that."

"It's your choice." James smiled. "We have enough evidence, and I don't want to add to your worries. After all, your father is still on the loose—by the way, I finally hired a new constabulary for the duchy."

Violet was quiet for a moment. She didn't want to think about her father. Not right now, not when her life was finally starting to feel good.

"What are you doing in here?" James asked, moving further into the library.

"Sorting through your books," she said. "Rosalie wants to be able to find things more easily, and the place really needs a thorough dusting."

"So you're doing it? All by yourself?" Her husband shook his head. "At least it's less dangerous than hanging portraits, but you know I don't approve of you doing all these home improvements by yourself when you have servants to do it."

"It is fun." Violet shrugged. "I get to see your collection of books and spy on you through them."

James laughed. "What do you mean?"

"Well, these books give me insight into who you are. For instance, this one"—she pulled out a book on fly fishing—"is so dusty, and the pages are so yellow, that it clearly hasn't been read in years. So I know you are not a flyfisher. But this one…" She took out a manual on boxing. "This one looks practically brand new, despite the publication date being a decade ago! So now I know where you learned to box."

"We were also taught at Eton," James said, taking the book from her and flipping through it. "Although the rules there were more strict than at Farrell's pit."

"Well, naturally."

James put the book down and looked at her. His eyes were blazing, and she suddenly felt as if all the air had been sucked from the room.

"So… what else have you discovered about me through my books?" he asked.

"Hmm. You clearly have a penchant for embroidery." She held up an embroidery book that was bookmarked on at least half the pages and laughed.

"A relic of my mother's, no doubt!" He chortled.

"Or you are a secret fan of feminine pursuits."

"Here's a perfect book for you," James said, holding up a book on architecture. "It can give you ideas on how to renovate the house, since you seem intent on redecorating and clearing out every single room."

"Could be helpful," she acknowledged, taking the book from him. "I do have big plans for the house. You won't recognize it when I'm done."

James's face sobered somewhat. "Why are you so intent on changing things?" he asked. "Don't get me wrong, I've warmed up to the idea, and I'm actually relieved that someone is determined to give the place a new look, but I'm surprised you're so keen on it. There are many other things you could be doing, as a titled, wealthy lady, that didn't involve housework."

"Perhaps it's because my father's house never felt like home," she murmured, tilting her head to the side. "And now that I have my own house, I finally have the chance to make it feel like home. Somewhere warm and cozy, where I can grow old in peace and safety."

"That is a good goal," James said gently. "And I want you to think of this place as your home." He opened his arms wide. "You now have my permission—not that you need it—to transform the house as you see fit. I won't get in your way. And if you really want to do it without the help of the servants, then I will support you in that, too." He frowned as he lowered his arms.

"Maybe you'll get a nickname as well, to go along with your reputation. I'll be the Devilish Duke, and you'll be the Duchess Who Dusts." He chuckled at his own joke. "Not a bad duo we make, eh? The oddball Duke and Duchess of Attorton."

Violet wasn't sure exactly what made her do it. All she knew was that suddenly, she had stepped forward, placed a tentative hand on her husband's chest, and with the other, reached up and stroked his cheek very lightly. His eyes widened in surprise, but she didn't wait for him to push her away. Standing up on tiptoe, she raised her lips to his and kissed him.

Several agonizing heartbeats passed, during which they both stood very still, as if petrified, their lips touching.

Violet didn't move. She didn't dare to.

What have I done? Will he kiss me back?!

And then he did.

The Duke was suddenly embracing her passionately. His hands ran over her arms, her back, her head, his fingers twisting in her hair. He pressed his lips to hers, then her jaw, then her neck. His body was strong and needy, and she found herself flush against the bookcase. The spines of the books were digging into her back, but she didn't care because she was so lost in the kiss…

And then he pulled away from her. She was breathless, her legs wobbly, supported only by the bookcase. Her cheeks were flushed, and she felt as if she had been transported to another world.

A world where handsome, dangerous dukes kissed her as if there was no tomorrow, where romance and love were possible, where she was the type of woman who could get a happily ever after.

Joy coursed through her, and she looked up at her husband, ready to see the same happiness and excitement on his face that she knew was on hers.

Instead, she saw a dark, clouded, angry expression.

"J-James?" she stuttered. "What's wrong?"

"This cannot happen again," he said, his voice so harsh and cold that she flinched. "I shouldn't have lost control like that. I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry," she whispered. "It was wonderful."

"It was a mistake." Her husband turned to fully face her, and she shrank back. There was a look of pure revulsion in his eyes.

Tears pricked her eyes. She had never felt so rejected by anyone in her entire life.

"Why are you saying this?" she whispered. "Why can't we just be happy, James?"

"I will leave you now." He bowed stiffly. "And I promise you, that will not happen again."

He turned and left the library, slamming the door shut behind him. Violet slid down to the ground and hugged her knees. The tears finally came, rolling down her cheeks and wetting the front of her dress.

"After everything we've shared, he still doesn't want me," she whispered to the room. "And he never will."