Her heart thudded loudly in her chest, and she swore he could hear it. But then, as though realizing the intensity of the moment, Nicholas looked away, breaking the spell.
“What brings you here at this hour, Violet?” he asked, moving away to put some distance between them.
Violet blinked, suddenly aware of her surroundings again. She clasped her hands together, trying to collect herself. “I couldn’t sleep. The house felt… too quiet.”
Nicholas nodded, his own composure returning as he set the brush down. “It does have that effect sometimes. Though I didn’t expect you to wander the halls in search of company.”
“Oh—I wasn’t,” she flushed. “Well, I did not intend to disturb you. It justhappenedthat I stumbled across the light in the study and–-”
He cut her off then, “You did not disturb me. No need to explain yourself.”
“Right.” She cleared her throat, annoyed at herself at how her cheeks seemed to warm at such a simple comment.
“Now that you are here, I suppose I would not mind the company.”
He gestured over to the sofa for her to take a seat and followed her there once she did.
“Would you like something to drink?” he offered as he poured himself a glass of amber liquid.
“No, I am quite all right, thank you,” she said, toying with the hem of her sleeve. “I really don’t wish to bother you–-I can go–-”
“You’re my wife, Violet. If you can’t bother me, who can?”
Her cheeks flushed at his playful remark, and she glanced down at her hands. “I simply meant?—”
“I know what you meant,” he said smoothly, taking a slow sip from his glass. “But since you’re here, we might as well talk. Unless you’d rather leave me to my terribly dull solitude.”
CHAPTER 17
Nicholas wasn’t sure why he had asked her to stay. He wasn’t even sure why he hadn’t sent her away the moment she stepped into the drawing room. Yet here she was, seated across from him on the sofa, her hands folded neatly in her lap as her gaze wandered to the canvas.
“You really are full of surprises,” Violet said, breaking the silence.
“Am I?” he replied, arching a brow as he took a sip from his glass.
“The Duke of Bernight spending his nights painting landscapes,” she said, gesturing to the easel. “It’s not exactly the image one associates with you.”
He chuckled softly. “And what image do you associate with me, Violet?”
“Brooding. Mysterious. Perhaps a little…” she paused, and hehatedjust how curious he was for her to finish that sentence, “intimidating.”
“Intimidating?” he repeated, amused. This would not be the first time he had heard himself described as such.
“You don’t see yourself as intimidating?”
“I suppose it depends on the company,” he shrugged. “Though I’ll admit, the reputation does have its uses.”
Violet studied him for a moment before glancing at the canvas again. “Where did you learn to paint?”
“I picked it up as a child. Something to pass the time.”
“That’s a rather vague answer. Were you self-taught?” she probed further.
He let out a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “Not exactly. My tutor introduced me to it, likely to keep me from causing trouble.”
“Oh, you were a troublemaker.That’smore in alignment with the image I had of you,” she nodded contemplatively.
“I had my moments, but my parents had little tolerance for such things. Painting kept me… occupied.”
