30. A Disastrous Introduction to a Duke

A half-hour later, Weston Hall

Moving to stand at the Weston House study door, Pritchard straightened and inhaled deeply before he knocked. The ‘come' called out by the man on the other side sounded surprisingly calm. Perhaps he was still in the good mood brought about by the Earl of Crawford. The young man had departed only a few minutes earlier, a huge grin lighting his face as he took his leave.

Pritchard gingerly opened the door. "Your Grace, the ladies Amelia and Violet have paid a call and wish a moment of your time."

Alfred pushed back from his desk and stood. He quickly straightened his coats and moved a hand to his throat, feeling for the knot in his cravat. Determining it wasn't hopelessly crushed, he regarded the butler with a pleasant expression. "Send them in," he ordered.

Obviously surprised by Alfred's manner, Pritchard nodded and made his way to the vestibule. "His Grace will see you now," he said, turning to lead them to the study.

"I know the way, Pritchard," Amelia said, rolling her eyes when only Violet could see.

"Very well," the butler replied, obviously disappointed he wouldn't be paying witness to whatever the girls were about to do. Lady Violet seemed especially nervous while Amelia was behaving in her usual cheerful manner.

He watched the two curtsying before the door shut, and he moved on towards the back of the house.

"Ladies," Alfred said as he moved to take Violet's gloved hand to his lips. "To what do I owe this most welcome visit?" he asked, holding onto her hand a moment longer than was necessary.

Amelia opened her mouth to respond and quickly closed it, apparently shocked by her brother's behavior.

"Good afternoon, Your Grace," Violet said, deciding calling him ‘Weston' wouldn't be appropriate with Amelia present. "I wish to apologize again for having left the ball before our second dance last night."

Alfred allowed a shrug. "Oh, there is no need to apologize, my lady," he said. "I do hope your aunt is feeling better?"

"I'm not yet sure. I'll be paying a call on her when I leave here," she explained. She turned and lifted her eyebrows as if to prompt Amelia to say something.

"Might you have a moment for us?" Amelia asked.

"Of course. Please... uh, have a seat," he offered, moving to pull another chair in front of his desk.

"Oh, this won't take long," his sister said. "After our discussion over breakfast this morning, it occurred to me that I never properly introduced Lady Violet to you."

Alfred's gaze darted from his sister to Violet. "Well, I'm sure that's not exactly correct," he countered. His eyes widened slightly. "You are the Duchess of Pendleton's niece, are you not?"

Violet nodded. "Grand niece," she said. "On my father's side."

"Lady Violet Cummings, may I have the honor of introducing you to Alfred, Duke of Weston?" Amelia asked in a voice filled with pride.

"It is my honor," Alfred countered before he suddenly sobered. "Cummings, did you say?"

Amelia continued as if he hadn't spoken. "She is the only daughter of the?—"

"The Marquess of Fenwick," he finished, his expression darkening. For a moment, he thought the floor was about to open up beneath him.

"Yes," Amelia affirmed, grinning.

"Crawford's sister," he added, his gaze still squarely on Violet. For the first time, he realized she possessed the same eyes as her brother. The same blonde hair.

How had he missed their resemblance before now?

"Indeed," Amelia said, nodding happily.

"Leave us," he ordered, his attention turning to his sister.

"What?" she responded, her happy countenance turning to one of confusion.

"You heard me. Get out." He punctuated his order with a finger aimed at the door.

Amelia gave Violet a beseeching glance and slowly made her way out of the study. "I'll be right out here when you're finished," she said.

Violet nodded and turned to face the duke. "Your Grace, I wish to?—"

"You had every opportunity to tell me of your relationship to Fenwick when we were discussing him last night," he said, his voice straining with his attempt to control his temper.

How could this be happening? He had spent nearly an hour with Crawford going over arrangements for his sister's betrothal to the heir to the Fenwick marquessate, and nothing had been said about Violet being his sister.

Worse, he had spent time with her in the Reading House gardens the night before speaking of his belief that the current marquess was really his father.

Not once had she mentioned her relationship to Fenwick.

Not once had she explained how it was she knew wedding dates and birthdates.

No wonder she knew so much about Fenwick. So much about Crawford!

"You've been playing me for a fool," he accused.

"No, Weston, I didn't tell you because I didn't wish for you to know," she blurted.

Taken aback by her admission, Alfred stared at her for several moments. "So... what? Your subterfuge was deliberate?"

"It wasn't like that," she argued. "I assure you?—"

"What else could it be? You thought to trick me? To... to what? Make a fool of me?"

"No, Weston. It wasn't like that?—"

"You will address me as ‘Your Grace'," he stated, his eyes blazing.

Violet inhaled sharply as her eyes brightened with unshed tears. "Your Grace, I didn't wish for your good opinion of me to change because of your past differences with my brother," she argued.

"Oh, so you know about the fight we had at university?" he spat out.

"I only learned of it?—"

"Enough," he said, stomping a booted foot so hard, Violet jumped back in fright.

Her lower lip trembling, she stared at him in disbelief. "Please, Your Grace, do not deprive your sister of the man she loves," she whispered. "Not because of me, please."

His brows furrowing so he appeared as frightening as possible, he straightened. "I will do as I must," he countered. "Take your leave, and never again set foot in Weston Hall."

Violet inhaled sharply as gray surrounded her vision. Sure she was about to faint, she stepped backward and managed a clumsy curtsy before she rushed out the door. Flattening herself against the adjacent wall, she let out the breath she'd been holding and slowly slid down until she was seated on the floor.

From where she had stood eavesdropping on the conversation, Amelia covered her mouth with both hands and rushed to Violet's side. "I'm so sorry," she whispered. "I truly thought everything would be all right." She struggled to lift Violet to her feet.

Tears streamed down her face as Violet quietly sobbed. "Oh, Amelia, it's not your fault," she said. "I'm the one who has made the mistake. I thought I could make it easier for you and Philip to court if I showed an interest in His Grace."

"Your efforts did not go unnoticed," Amelia replied. When the comment had Violet sobbing even harder, she sighed. "What you did for us that morning you went riding in the park, what you did at the Everly soirée, and then last night? It was rather generous of you," she said in a quiet voice.

"I only wished to help you and Philip," Violet said as she tried to swallow a sob. "I never expected to fall in love with your brother."

Amelia's eyes rounded as she stared at her best friend. "You've fallen in love with Alfred?" she asked in disbelief.

A sob interrupted Violet's response as she displayed a watery grin. "Rather stupid of me, wasn't it?" she replied, sniffling. Fishing a hanky from her pocket, she dabbed her cheeks.

How could she have ever imagined marriage to Alfred? When it would have required putting up with his pompous, arrogant manner? She wouldn't have been able to endure a lifetime with a man so unlikeable, so indifferent to others. Having to play-act her way through a lifetime with him might have her behaving as he did.

So why had his words cut so deeply? Why did her heart hurt so much?

"I must go. Your brother has forbidden me from ever stepping foot in Weston Hall," she said. "Good day."

Letting out a sound of disbelief, Amelia watched her friend depart and aimed a glare at the door to the study.

"Arrogant arse," she whispered before she marched up the stairs. "I'm telling Mother."

From the other side of the door to the study, Alfred leaned against the wood panel for support. His entire body still shook from the rage he had felt only moments before. He had shared his deepest secrets with a woman whom he was sure had somehow betrayed him.

However in the world could she claim to love him?