Chapter 13

CHAPTER13

Such fear ripped through Violet that she didn’t move. She watched, as if time had slowed down, as the door handle turned. Someone else had to have a key, and they were turning it in the lock from the other side.

Xander’s hands abruptly grabbed her waist, and he drew her off the desk, putting her on her feet again. She staggered in surprise, struggling to set herself right, when the door swung open.

Violet wished to leap away from Xander, but it was fruitless now. In the sharp candlelight, she saw a myriad of faces in the doorway.

Leading the group was Xander’s mother, the Dowager Duchess, and behind her was not only Violet’s mother, but a whole host of other ladies from the ball.

“And here is my son’s study…” the Dowager Duchess trailed off as she turned to look around, her jaw going slack when she saw Xander and Violet together.

Violet’s hands were still on Xander’s arms, and his hands were on her waist. He abruptly released her, and she staggered back, reaching for the desk, which she gripped hard in order to keep herself upright.

Her eyes shot to her mother, fearing what she would think of this. The woman who so badly longed for a family too proper, the mother who knew that one daughter already started rumors, would hardly be dancing with joy now that her youngest daughter was to be thrown into scandal.

Oh, we are discovered. How could I have let this happen? How could I have let my desires run away with me so much?

Tearing her gaze away from her mother’s shocked expression, Violet hid her face in her hands, wishing she could disappear into the shadows. The Dark Duke, the figure before her, she almost presumed would be able to do such a thing, that he somehow would leave the room sharply and survive this scandal.

After all, he already had one scandal to his name. What would be the harm in another?

“I…” The Dowager Duchess cleared her throat, clearly trying to gain some semblance of propriety and normality as, behind her, two ladies sniggered into hands, and a third began to whisper so loudly that her failing hearing was clearly her downfall, as they all heard her.

“Has he ruined her virtue?”

“I…” The Dowager Duchess tried again, much louder this time to be heard over all the whispers. “I was showing our guests the house, Xander. I did not think that you—”

“And my betrothed would be here? Yes, so I see.” Xander reached back toward Violet, his hand outstretched as she lifted her face from her hands.

Wait… what did he say?

Violet was certain for a moment that she had heard him wrong. Surely it was impossible. This had to be a dream. Some gothic nightmare mixed with the sublime where something so thrilling as a curse had taken place only for that subversion of propriety to be discovered.

“B-betrothed?” Marianne stuttered.

“I apologize profusely to you, Lady Pembrokeshire.” He bowed deeply to her. “I pictured a much more private proposal to Violet here, and I am afraid we have become a little too excited in our ardor. It was my intention to come and ask for your blessing and that of your husband’s before the news… was known by all.” He cast a wary glance at the others in the room.

This cannot be happening. This cannot be true.

Violet stared at him, feeling his hand grasping her own tightly, though her palm was clammy and his was cold to the touch. Was he continuing their ruse? Did he intend for their betrothal to last a couple of months and then she would leave him? No, that couldn’t be it. Nothing had been said of a false proposal, only a false courtship.

“Well, this is wonderful news!” The Dowager Duchess broke forward, clasping her hands together, and then she moved to Violet and clutched her free hand. “It is so lovely to have you becoming a part of our family,” she said sweetly, her expression so kind that Violet was even more at a loss for words, just staring back at her. “For so long have I wished my dear Xander would find a partner in life. It gives me great pleasure indeed to find you have so captivated him. Oh, how much you must be in love, too! Run away with a kiss after a betrothal.”

She looked back at Marianne, who had now also found her words.

Marianne staggered forward. “It is true?” A smile suddenly broke through across her cheeks. “You are to be married?”

“I—”

“We are, My Lady,” Xander cut in before Violet could say anything to her mother. “I am only sorry the news had to come to you in this way.”

“Oh, do not worry about that.” Marianne waved a hand in the air. “My daughter, a duchess!”

Clearly, this affected her more than anything else. She clutched hands with the Dowager Duchess behind her, and the two looked so delighted that they were as giddy as children.

Violet looked at the other ladies gathered. Whilst some were now nodding and smiling eagerly, others still looked cautious. Apparently, they were not quite so easily persuaded.

“If you would excuse us, ladies,” Xander called to the other women. “Perhaps we could be allowed a few minutes alone with our mothers.”

Some of the ladies left, but one still stood in the doorway, staring open-mouthed in apparent horror, until her arm was pulled by one of her friends and she was snatched away from view.

“Oh, this is so wonderful,” the Dowager Duchess said yet again.

She reached up to her son and, with some difficulty because of his tall height, managed to kiss him on the cheek. She then turned to Violet and kissed her on the cheek, too, which shocked Violet so much that she nearly fell over and was only saved from doing so thanks to Xander tugging on her hand.

She looked down at that grasp, for she had barely realized they were still holding onto one another.

“Mama, please, forgive me.” Violet looked at Marianne. “What you saw—”

“As long as it was nothing inappropriate,” Marianne said pointedly with a warning look, “then how could I object when you are to be married?”

“It was nothing that would shame your daughter,” Xander said in a rush. “Merely a kiss in the heat of the moment.”

“Then I quite agree with your mother. This is wonderful news, indeed.”

What is happening?

Violet felt as if she had drunk five glasses of claret. She could not explain this dizzy feeling, as if she might swoon and collapse at any second. Surely she was not going to marry the Duke of Barlow? That was not possible! He merely wanted her for a couple of months and nothing more. He had made that quite plain.

Would he seriously go to such lengths now in order to save her reputation? Was he willing to enter into a marriage of convenience?

“There will still be whispers, Xander,” the Dowager Duchess said seriously. “Now that you were caught together.”

“Then we shall avoid any hint of scandal,” Xander said, holding his mother’s gaze.

He still hadn’t looked Violet in the eye once. She pulled on his hand a little, begging him to do so, to communicate through some sort of look if this was truly happening.

“We can obtain a special license and can be married as soon as possible.”

“I must write to my husband,” Marianne declared and ran out of the room. “What joyous news this is!”

“Yes, yes, indeed. We could hold the wedding before all our guests are due to return home in a couple of weeks’ time?” the Dowager Duchess suggested.

A couple of weeks?

Violet now tugged her hand out of Xander’s grasp, for he nodded at his mother’s words.

She could not deny what was happening. Xander must have had every intention of going through with this, and he must have intended to not only protect her reputation but protect his own from future damage. It was to be a marriage of convenience to him, which was why he would not look at her now.

What else could it have been when there was clearly no care, no affection when his original plan was to part ways in a couple of months’ time?

“Yes, two weeks will work well.” Xander nodded once more.

Violet could not stay anymore. “If you would excuse me,” she said in a rushed whisper and fled from the room, running fast.

From her excited babble, the Dowager Duchess had not noticed anything strange in Violet’s behavior. She was too busy talking to Xander about what great news this was, and how much she would enjoy preparing for the wedding.

Violet gathered her skirt in her hands and ran down the corridor, heading for the staircase as quickly as she could. At the bottom of the stairs, she heard a noise, something like a squeak, and she turned to see that one of the ladies who had just witnessed her with Xander was talking to Celia, Eleanor, Grace, and Diana.

As if they all noticed her at the same time, they turned to look at her, their jaws slack, their eyes wide, and even laying hands on their chests in shock. Diana was the one who had squeaked in alarm, a hand over her mouth, whilst Eleanor merely stared forward through her spectacles, her face somewhat stern.

Violet couldn’t face them. With her eyes prickling with tears, she bolted up the stairs. She quite forgot any wish to be ladylike or well-mannered, taking the stairs sometimes two, even three, at a time, nearly tripping at the top of the steps in her haste to escape.

* * *

Violet wasn’t sure how long she had been crying, but her eyes were red, and she had been through three handkerchiefs, at least. In vain, she had searched for more but could find no more handkerchiefs in her portmanteau. Settling herself on the bed, with her knees up to her chest, she continued to cry with one candle beside her on the table.

She wasn’t sure which part of what had happened made her cry more. The feeling that she was letting down her family, for she was entering marriage so quickly, or the knowledge that Xander had only offered to marry her for the sake of her reputation.

“Come on, Violet, open up.”

The sudden words startled her, and she looked toward the door.

In her tears, she hadn’t noticed that Celia had been knocking on the door for some time.

“Please let me in so I can talk to you.”

Slowly, Violet pulled herself off the bed and moved toward the door. She unlocked it, then hid behind it, just in case anyone else was walking down the corridor, as she did not want to be seen.

Celia helped her close the door hastily again, then turned and wrapped her up in her arms.

The embrace was so warm, so comforting, that Violet capitulated on her sister’s shoulder, crying even more than before.

“Let it all out,” Celia whispered in her ear. “Then, when you are done, let’s have a seat. I’ve been dancing all night, and my feet are sore.”

Glad to have the excuse to smile at her sister’s jest, Violet lifted her head and walked across the room. They sat together on the bed, amongst the cushions.

“You heard?” Violet whispered after a minute, reaching for one of her used-up handkerchiefs. Fortunately, Celia found a clean one up the sleeve of her gown and offered it to Violet.

“Well, I’m hearing mixed accounts.” Celia wrinkled her nose. “One lady says that Lady Violet and the Duke of Barlow have been caught in a compromising position in his study. Two other ladies say that the Duke was proposing to you when you were caught having a discreet kiss. So… what is the truth?” She eyed her cautiously. “From all you have told me, I do not believe it was a proposal.”

“It was not.” Violet shook her head.

She told Celia everything then, about the fake courtship they were about to perform, how she had indulged, and how Xander had shown her what a kiss was.

“And you went to him tonight to his study to find out more, did you not?”

There was no judgment in Celia’s expression, to Violet’s relief, just a need to know.

Violet nodded.

Sighing loudly, Celia rested back on the pillows at the head of the bed. “Well, it is hardly something I could ever reprimand you for. I know what it is like to bend the rules a little.” She grimaced. “Though our mother never needs to hear about the sheer degree at which I have transgressed. So, you were kissing when they walked in?”

“We had just pulled apart. He put me back on the ground—”

“The ground?” Celia spluttered.

“We were on his desk.”

“Oh my.” Celia smiled a little and waved a hand in front of her heated face. “Well, at least you’ll have a husband with excitement in him, I’ll say that.”

Yet, Violet could not smile. She next told Celia about how they were caught and what the Dowager Duchess and their own mother’s reaction had been.

“I thought our mother would be more outraged,” Violet confessed.

“She is probably relieved just to have one daughter about to be married,” Celia reminded her. “And you’re to be a duchess. You’ll be her pride, even if the marriage is obtained a little unusually.”

“He only said it to protect my reputation and… his own,” Violet said with sudden conviction. Minutes ago, she may have stood in his study, uncertain what he meant by saying they were to be married, but now, she was quite certain, indeed. “You should have seen him the other night when he discovered I was the one who wrote about him. He was desperate to repair his reputation. Desperate doesn’t even cover it. It was a need.”

“Then, he offers to marry you for his own sake? To avoid his name being lambasted in the scandal sheets again?”

“I know it to be true.” Violet nodded. “What else could be the reason?”

Celia didn’t answer but shook her head a little.

“It will be a marriage of convenience,” Violet whispered after a minute or so and dried her cheeks.

She was not going to cry anymore. She felt as if there was no liquid left in her body to be shed.

“Clearly, I should have taught you better.” Celia looked guilty. “I should have taught you how to be more discreet. I am sorry, Vi.”

“It is hardly your doing.” Violet laid a hand over Celia’s. “It is my own fault, my own temptation into darkness, just as I have always been tempted by it.” She closed her eyes and, for a brief moment, felt as if she was back in the bookshop the first day she had met Xander.

She saw the darkness of his clothes, the iciness of his stare, the twinkle in his blue eyes. It was everything—a torment, a warning, and a temptation.

I am my own downfall. Just as Eleanor warned me.

She fell back onto the pillows and sighed loudly. It seemed the guest room she was in now could someday soon be her bedchamber, for if she was to marry Xander, then this would be her home.

“You do not know the Duke has no affection for you. He may as well do,” Celia said, leaning down toward her.

“Pff! I think not. I think even part of him hates me.”

“Hates you?” Celia spluttered. “What on earth makes you think that?”

“His fury when he found out I was the writer. By the way, I won that wager you gave me on the night of the ball. I made him feel an emotion, and that emotion was pure, unadulterated fury.” Violet waved her arms in the air in emphasis. “He despises me.”

“Yet, he would kiss a woman he despised? I do not believe that.” Celia shook her head.

Violet looked back at her sister, confused by her words. He couldn’t hate her completely, no, for he had kissed her, and as he had said, he was possessive about her, but she still couldn’t make head or tail of him.

“He is a man I do not fully understand.”

“You never did, did you?” Celia whispered. “It’s why you wrote about him, in the first place. He was your enigma!” She declared the words with a flourish as if it was a wonderful thing, but Violet merely frowned.

A sudden knock at the door made them both freeze. Violet closed her eyes, fearing it would be their mother, for she was not sure she could bear her words at this moment, whether that was gushing praise for ending up betrothed to a duke or a reprimand for how she had gone about it.

“Who is it?” Celia called when Violet said nothing.

“It is I,” the gravelly voice of Xander replied.