“His Grace will be dining in the drawing room this evening.”
Violet’s chest tightened. She had no desire to eat alone again.
Without saying another word, Violet started heading towards the study.
“Your Grace, the Duke has given instructions to not be disturbed—” the butler said hurriedly behind her, but Violet did not care.
She was hiswife,for heaven’s sake. Raising her hand, she knocked.
There was no response.
Frowning, she tried again, the sound sharp in the silence of the hallway. Still, there was nothing.
Taking a deep breath, she turned the handle and pushed the door open. The sight that greeted her stopped her in her tracks.
Nicholas sat at a large drafting table near the window, his back to the door. His shirt sleeves were rolled up, revealing his defined forearms. He was utterly engrossed in his work, the quill in his hand moving swiftly across the paper.
Violet stepped inside, her frustration momentarily forgotten. She had never seen him like this before, so unguarded. It surprised her that she wanted tostay—just to observe him. Her heart fluttered, and she felt a warmth rise in her chest.
I must be really out of methods to entertain myself,she chided herself mentally. But before she could make her presence known, a tap on her back diverted her attention away from her husband.
It was a frazzled Mrs. Smith staring at her with eyes wide, like she had just been made privy to the most scandalous of affairs.
“Your Grace,” her tone was reproachful, “it is improper to leave the dining table without eating. As duchess, you must?—”
“I know,” Violet interrupted, flustered. “I had just come to…”
Her explanation was cut short by the sound of movement behind her. She froze as Nicholas appeared in the doorway, his expression unreadable. His dark eyes flicked between her and the housekeeper.
“Mrs. Smith,” he said, his tone sharp, “you will refrain from chastising the Duchess in the future. Her actions are not yours to question.”
Mrs. Smith’s face paled. It was immediately clear that she wasnotexpecting such a reaction. In earnest, neither was Violet. The housekeeper dipped into a curtsey, her voice trembling slightly. “Of course, Your Grace. My apologies.”
Before Violet could respond, Nicholas took her arm gently but firmly and guided her back into the drawing-room, closing the door behind them. The sudden intimacy of his touch made her heart start to pound.
“You really needn’t have been so harsh with Mrs. Smith,” Violet began to ramble. “I mean—she was only reminding me of the rules, and it was not nice that you?—”
“Violet…” Nicholas’ voice made her jump. “… need I remind you that you are a duchess?”
“Yes, but there was no need for?—”
“She overstepped,” Nicholas interrupted, his tone leaving no room for debate. “And so did you.”
“I overstepped?” Violet’s voice rose slightly. “How, precisely, did I overstep? By caring about the feelings of the staff?”
“You cannot behave like this,” he said, his voice softer now. “You are too quick to defer, too eager to please. You apologize when there is no need, and it makes them see you as… vulnerable.”
“Is that so terrible?” she asked, her voice trembling slightly. “To be vulnerable?”
Nicholas hesitated, his expression unreadable. “In this house? Yes. The staff may serve you, but they must also respect you. That respect cannot come if they see you doubting your own authority.”
Violet pursed her lips.Maybehe had a point. It was not the first time someone had told her that her softness led people to take advantage of her—it was something that her brothers had told her often, actually.
“Do you understand me?” Nicholas asked, raising an eyebrow.
In return, Violet mumbled something under breath.
“What was that now?”
