A sense of dread washed over her as she registeredwhereshe remembered her name from.
She had heard it paired with Nicholas.
There had been rumours about them together which had never bothered her before. He had a reputation as a rake, and there were many ladies whose name was associated with him. But now, things had changed.
Now, Violet could not keep her hand from shaking, her cheeks warming with chagrin.
“I am not sure if it would be wise to invite her, Mrs. Smith.”
“Why not, Your Grace? Lady Pennywise is highly connected within the ton.Her presence would certainly lend prestige to the event.”
Violet hesitated, forcing herself to keep her expression neutral as she searched for an explanation that wouldn’t betray the true reason for her reluctance. “I simply believe her… reputation might overshadow the purpose of the evening. This ball is about establishing our household, not courting unnecessary attention.”
Mrs. Smith tilted her head slightly. “If that is your wish, Your Grace,” she said carefully, “I will leave her off the list.”
Violet breathed out a sigh of relief, feeling grateful that the housekeeper did not press further. She did not wish to discuss the rumours that had surrounded her husband before marriage.
Nicholas’ reputation as a rake was no secret, but to have it thrust into her lap like this—so casually —made it feel all the more real.
“That would be good,” she lifted her chin slightly, willing herself to appear unaffected.
“Is there anyone else you would prefer to leave out, Your Grace?”
Violet hesitated, her hand pausing over the list of names. She looked down at the carefully curated list Mrs. Smith had prepared. It should have been simple—a straightforward matter of deciding who would or would not attend. But now, with Lady Pennywise’s name still lingering in her mind, she felt a sudden and unwelcome shift in her focus.
Her eyes scanned the list again, this time with a new lens. The names of other prominent ladies began to stand out—ladies she had heard whispers about, ladies who had once been linked to Nicholas in one way or another. The thought made her stomach tighten.
“Maybe,” she said after a moment, her voice quieter than she intended. “I think it’s best if we go through the list again. Just to be certain.”
The housekeeper obliged, listing names with her usual precision, but Violet’s mind was no longer in the room. Her thoughts lingered stubbornly on Lady Pennywise—on the jealousy that had crept in so suddenly
It was irrational, she told herself firmly. What did it matter what had happened before their marriage? It wasn’t as though Nicholas had promised her anything beyond what their arrangement demanded. And yet, the thought of any woman from his past being in the same room, casting knowing glances or whispering behind her back, was enough to make her skin prickle.
The rest of the meeting passed in a haze. Clearly, she was in no mood to discuss these matters anymore. When Mrs. Smith finally left her alone, Violet sank back into her chair, staring blankly at the list before her.
Why does this bother me so much?she thought. She had no reason to feel this way—Nicholas had made no effort to hide who he had been before their marriage, nor had he given her cause for concern since.
She sighed, pressing her fingers to her temples. This was not who she was supposed to be—a petty, jealous wife clinging to whispers of the past.
She was a duchess now with responsibilities that demanded her full attention. This ball wasn’t about her feelings or insecurities; it was about proving herself capable, about cementing her place in society.
And yet…it seemed that ghosts from her husband’s past had come to haunt her.
“Oh,focusfor heaven’s sake,” she reminded herself.
Rising from her chair, she began pacing the room, her mind turning toward the myriad tasks still to be done. She would not let herself falter.
The ball had to be perfect.
Dinner that evening was a quiet—and lonely—affair.
Violet sat alone at the long dining table, her plate barely touched. She pushed a roasted carrot around her plate absentmindedly.
Nicholas hadn’t come. Again.
At first, she’d convinced herself that it was nothing. He was busy, likely caught up with his responsibilities. He was a sought-after man, after all. But as the minutes dragged on, irrational thoughts began to creep in, unwelcome and relentless. Where was he? What was he doing?
Who was he with?
