Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

" W e shall stay here tonight," James announced, once his wife, sister-in-law, and mother-in-law had gathered around the table in the inn's dining room for supper that evening. "And then tomorrow, I will go to meet with the men who are running the dog fights."

Violet looked up from where she had just taken a seat at the far end of the table and narrowed her eyes at him. "You are going to meet with them?" she asked. "But aren't they dangerous gangsters?"

Rosalie and Lady Carfield also looked up. Intrigued was etched no his sister-in-law's face, while Lady Carfield looked worried.

"They are gangsters, yes," James said calmly, "but I have dealt with them before. These men have been making a living in the duchy for a long time. This isn't our first interaction—or even the first time we have been in conflict."

Violet bit her lip. "But will it be safe?"

James shrugged. "It will be safe enough."

"So you'll take your guards with you."

He paused as a maid entered with a carafe of wine and filled their glasses. Anyone can be a spy for Farrell , he reminded himself.

After the maid had exited, James shook his head. "I will not have my guards with me, as I must leave them here with you."

"Because of my father?" Violet asked. She hadn't touched her wine, but James grabbed his glass and took a long sip.

"Yes, partially because of your father," he confirmed, once he'd put the glass down.

"Your Grace, we don't want to put you in danger," Lady Carfield said at once. "I am sure my husband didn't follow us all the way here. You should take your guards with you."

Across the table, James enjoyed watching the consternated look on his wife's face. He could tell Violet was having conflicting feelings. On the one hand, she wanted the guards to stay here and guard her family. On the other hand, she would feel guilty if she exposed him to danger because of her. Especially after she had insisted on coming with him.

He tried to suppress a smile but wasn't altogether successful. He always enjoyed it when he made his wife squirm.

"That is very kind of you, Lady Carfield," he acknowledged, turning to his mother-in-law. "But I wouldn't dream of leaving the three of you unprotected. It's not just your husband I fear, but any of my enemies who might use you to get to me. If any of these men are going to strike against me, I would rather they strike me, not my wife or her family."

Violet's face softened, and James's heart swelled for a moment. "That's very kind of you," she murmured.

"I agree with Mama, though," Rosalie interjected, looking at James with wide, scared eyes. "You cannot put yourself at risk! You could be killed!"

"That's enough, Rose," Violet chided gently. "His Grace is experienced at negotiating with dangerous men. He will take all the necessary precautions."

Her eyes met his, and they seemed to ask, You will, won't you?

He smiled coyly. Perhaps I will, perhaps I won't.

The food was served after that, and James refrained from speaking about his plans to confront the gangsters in front of the inn's staff, still paranoid that one of them might be working for Farrell. The women followed his lead and also said nothing.

After dinner, they retired to their rooms, and James was intrigued to find that when he followed Violet to their shared bedchamber, she looked at him with alarm.

"You have your own room, surely?" she asked as he held the candelabra he'd borrowed from the sitting room high so she wouldn't trip on the stairs.

"No, the inn only had two free rooms," he explained. "Your sister and mother are sharing one, and you and I are sharing the other."

"But…" Violet turned around to stare at him. "That is not part of the conditions of our marriage! You were the one who insisted on it."

"I shall sleep on the settee," he offered.

She gave him a withering look, then turned away and, without saying another word, set off down the corridor. He hurried after her, but she didn't acknowledge his presence again until they were inside their bedchamber. Only then did she round on him.

"You should have told me that we would be sharing a room," she hissed, her hands on her hips. "I wouldn't have insisted on coming with you if I had known."

"But I didn't know we would be sharing a room," he pointed out. "I cannot control how many available rooms the inn has."

"But you are enjoying this situation," she accused.

"What makes you say that?"

"I can tell. Your face betrays you when you are enjoying teasing and tormenting me."

James felt his temper flare. Not only was she right that he was enjoying this, but he didn't like that she could read him so well. He felt his walls go up.

"I didn't even want you to come!" he snapped. "If I had my way, you would be safe at Bolden House, instead of an inn that is frighteningly vulnerable to attacks, and we wouldn't be sharing a room at all!"

She ignored that part, though. "And now you tell me that you will have to go alone to face the gang boss who organizes the dog fights?! You should have disclosed all this information before I came with you."

James shrugged. "I'm not worried about having to face Farrell alone. I would much prefer the protection officers were here to protect you than me. However, I still maintain that you would have been safer at home. And I certainly had no intention of tricking you into sleeping in the same room as me, since I didn't expect you to be here."

Violet pursed her lips. "Very well," she said at last. "I suppose that's true. But I would kindly ask you to be less amused by the situation we've found ourselves in. After all, it was your idea that we don't share a bed as husband and wife. If we were properly married, as I expected us to be, then this wouldn't be an awkward situation."

He couldn't argue with her about that, so he nodded, and she gave him a very imperious look.

"Now, turn around."

He did as he was told, turning around to face the wall while his wife changed into her nightclothes behind him. As she did, the soft sounds of fabric slipping off skin seemed to echo in the quiet space…

Distract yourself! he told himself sternly. You are a gentleman!

What lovely curtains! Indeed, the patterns are wonderful and the… fabric is also wonderful. How do some gain joy in decorating?

Is she grunting? Sounds like she is fighting with her dress… Curtains, think of the curtains… Surely she would ask if she needed help, right? The floorboards!

They are a nice kind of wood. What tree is it? Could be oak. Could be, errr, mahogany…

"Pardon my intrusion, wife, but is everything quite all right?"

"I… I think I need your help."

James turned back around to see Violet stuck in a very funny position, with her arms over her head as she tried to take off her stays without untying them first. They were stuck, of course, and wouldn't slip over her shoulders.

"Yes, you most certainly need help," he tutted. "May I?"

He nodded towards her stays, and she hesitated but then nodded. Carefully, he walked over to her. She tugged her stays back into place over her shift and then turned around so that he could unlace them.

James's hands had never felt so clumsy as they did at that moment as he tried to unlace her stays. They were surprisingly complicated, and he kept pulling in the wrong direction.

"That's tighter," Violet said as he pulled on the laces. "Not looser."

"I'm sorry," he grumbled.

It was hard to focus on the laces when his fingers kept grazing her shift, through which he could feel the warmth of her skin. There was only a thin layer of cotton between his hands and her bare back, and it was making him clumsy and flustered.

At last, he managed to undo the laces enough that the stays came loose.

"Raise your arms," he commanded, and she obeyed.

He lifted the stays up and over her head. As he did, his left hand brushed against the back of her neck very gently, and he felt her shiver.

"You're all done," he murmured, setting her stays on the dressing table. "Do you need help with your hair as well?"

"I can do that," she said, and he watched as she swiftly unpinned her dark locks and it fell in loose curls around her shoulders.

He had never noticed before just how shiny it was, and he wondered, recklessly, what it would feel like to run his fingers through it.

"Thank you," she said, crossing her arms over her chest. "Now turn back around while I get into bed."

This time, he was the one who obeyed, but as he did, he caught a glimpse of her reflection in the window as she hurried over to the bed. She looked scandalously flushed.

"I'm decent now," she called once she was under the covers, and James turned around. She had the blanket pulled up high and was not looking at him, but staring up at the ceiling.

"Right," he said, coughing.

Even with the blankets pulled up so high, James could see how beautiful his wife looked.

"I'll just…" He gestured towards the settee in the corner.

She nodded, and once he reached the settee, he began to remove his clothes. When he snuck a glance at her, she was determinedly not looking at him. He almost laughed, almost . The air crackled with electric energy, and he was finding it hard to undo the buttons on his waistcoat. His movements were slow and uncharacteristically awkward.

At last, once he was in his shirttails, he settled down on the settee and pulled a blanket over him.

"Will you blow out the candelabra?" she asked. He leaned over and snuffed out the candles.

For a moment, they lay there in the darkness, on opposite sides of the room, neither of them speaking.

At last, James found his voice. "I didn't know you still think about the conditions of our marriage," he admitted into the darkness. "Or that you resent that we don't live together as man and wife."

He heard her shift under the sheets. "I don't resent it," she said, at last. "But I have not fully forgiven you for waiting until after our wedding day to tell me the truth."

"I understand that." He truly did. "It was wrong of me to keep that condition from you."

"And to keep from me that I would never have children," she added.

James rolled over onto his side and squinted through the dark, trying to make her out. But there wasn't enough light, even through the window, to make her out.

"You said you were comfortable to live without children," he reminded her slowly. He was trying to remember their conversation, but he couldn't quite recall the details.

"I didn't say that," she said sharply from the bed. "I asked how I would occupy myself if I never had children. That's why I've become so concerned with redecorating your home. I have to occupy myself somehow, so I've started with making your home habitable."

" Our home," he corrected.

She kept doing it, referring to their home as his. He didn't like it. No matter how untraditional their marriage was, he wanted her to feel comfortable in her home.

But this time, she didn't seem touched by the correction. She remained silent.

After several minutes, he said, "I really am sorry, Violet. I should have given you the option to have children or not, before we got married. I should have been honest with you about my desire to not continue my family line."

"Did you think I wouldn't agree to the marriage if I knew the truth?" she asked.

James was glad, then, that she couldn't see his visage, because it had suddenly grown ashen. He hated that she could read him so well.

That's what you get for marrying a smart woman .

"Yes, I thought you would say no," he admitted at last when the silence had stretched on for far too long.

His heart was in his throat, and he waited with bated breath for her to respond. Sickening dread was coiling in his stomach. Would she hate him forever for admitting that?

"And I needed you to say yes," he carried on when she said nothing. "You see, my father knew of my determination to never marry or father an heir, and he despised me for it. So he left a clause in his will which states that the majority of his fortune would be withheld from me until I married. It was his last and most mortal blow against me. I wasn't sure how to get around it. I needed the money in order to clean up the duchy."

"Why?" she asked. "Why is it so important for you to clean up the duchy?"

"Because it's the right thing to do," he said at once. "And because these gangs trample over my tenants. They harass them, extort them, recruit them, and sometimes even physically harm them. When a farmer is slow to pay the protection fee the gang requires, they will send men to beat him up. Sometimes even burn his house. So I want to do this for my tenants, for the dogs, and also for myself. I hated what my father did to this land and its people, and I want to undo it."

He heard Violet roll over onto her side. "So you decided to marry me and inherit the money you needed to end these illegal activities?"

"I did," James said, exhaling slowly. "Personally, I don't care about wealth. I would have been glad to let the money rot in the bank if I didn't need it to fight the criminals my father let flourish. But until you snuck into my study, I didn't know how I was going to root them all out. Because I refused to take a wife who wanted the kind of marriage I couldn't give. And then you showed up, and I saw a way for both of us to benefit from marriage."

"So when you said that you needed to marry in order to finish the work that is most important to you…?"

"I meant destroying my father's legacy of criminality and disrepute and making this duchy honorable and noble again."

There was a long silence during which James felt uncharacteristically nervous, as if he were worried that the truth would make her hate him.

But when she spoke, she didn't sound angry—she sounded thoughtful. "Thank you for telling me the truth."

He wished he could have seen her face, to try and decipher exactly what she was feeling, but she was still invisible in the darkness.

"Are you… all right?" he asked tentatively.

"You've given me much to think about," she admitted. "But for now, I think it best if we both get some rest. We have a long day tomorrow."

He heard her turn away from him, and several minutes later, the sound of her gentle breathing filled the room, and he knew she was asleep. But he had trouble sleeping, and all night, he tossed and turned.

The next morning, he woke up very suddenly, when the silvery morning light was just beginning to filter through the window. For a second, he couldn't figure out why he had woken up so suddenly. But then he realized that his wife was sitting on the edge of the settee, staring at him.

"W-what are you doing?" he asked, sitting up quickly.

She was fully dressed and looked ready to go out. She was even wearing thick leather walking boots and an outdoor coat.

"I've thought of a solution to the problem with the guards," she said, her tone brooking no argument. "We're coming with you."