“Nicholas, then.” She straightened her back. The word felt so foreign in her throat. Stripped bare, no pretension between them.
“Good. Violet,” he reciprocated though his tone was much more clipped. “So let me remind you, this marriage is only on paper. You’re free to live your life as you please, so long as you fulfill your duties as duchess. That is all I expect of you. Nothing more.”
The finality in his tone told her that there was likely no room for her to argue. Not that she would want to argue in the first place. This was what she wanted, was it not?
“Yes, I see.”
“Lovely. Look at us, getting along already,” he replied, his tone oozing with sarcasm. And then without warning, he leaned over her shoulder and opened the door for her. “I believe that Mrs. Smith will be waiting for you to show you to your chambers.”
“I… yes.”
Violet left his study, red in the face and spluttering on her words.What was that all about?It irked her to no end that she turned into this person in his presence, and he always walked away unfazed.
She hated to admit it—loathed it, truly—but his proximity had done something to her, something she couldn’t quite name.
Now, out in the hallway, she stood trying to collect her thoughts.
It was going to be a lot more complicated being the Duchess of Bernight than she’d thought.
My wife should be the last woman to fall for my charms.
His words replayed in her mind, sharp and final. What had he meant by that? She did not know and nearly hated herself for being so curious. What pleasure did he get from speaking in riddles like this? Was their situation not complicated enough?
“Your Grace.”
The soft voice startled her, and she turned quickly to find an elderly woman with a white apron strapped to the front of her dress waiting for her at the end of the hall. Her hands were folded neatly in front of her.
“I am Mrs. Smith, the housekeeper here.”
“Oh, yes. Right.” Violet prayed that she did not notice the lingering blush on her cheeks.
“Is everything…all right, Your Grace?” Mrs. Smith asked, her tone gentle but probing.
“I’m fine,” she said quickly, “Just… no, all is well.”
Mrs. Smith nodded, her expression understanding. If she was curious to know more, she did not push, a fact Violet felt infinitely grateful for.
“It’s quite natural to feel overwhelmed on your first night here. Shall I escort you to your chambers?”
“Yes, please,” Violet replied, grateful for the opportunity to escape the spot where Nicholas had so thoroughly unbalanced her.
When they reached her chambers, Mrs. Smith opened the heavy oak door, revealing a spacious room bathed in the warm glow of a crackling fire. The furnishings were elegant but understated—an ornate four-poster bed, a vanity adorned with delicate carvings, and a comfortable seating area by the hearth. It was beautiful, but it didn’t feel like it was hers.
“I’ve taken the liberty of having the maids unpack your belongings,” Mrs. Smith said, gesturing to the wardrobe. “If there’s anything else you require, please don’t hesitate to ask.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Smith,” Violet said, offering the housekeeper a small smile. “I’ll be fine.”
The older woman hesitated for a moment before nodding. “Good night, Your Grace.”
As the door clicked shut behind her, Violet let out a long breath and sank into the armchair by the fire.
This was it. Her new home. As Violet looked around the room, she knew that it was going to take more than a while to get used to it all.
Of course, if this was a typical union, then she would have been sharing a chamber with her husband. But Violet was not sofortunate. She tried not to dwell on it much, going over to sit by the edge of her bed.
Why does he have to be so infuriating?she thought.If he had a better personality, perhaps it would not have been so terrible. After all, he is…
She groaned, unable to finish the thought. There was no denying that Nicholas was handsome. But that only made him more dangerous. He was just like all men like him—charming, arrogant, and far too aware of their own appeal. She did not want to contribute to feeding his ego.
