She shook her head, scolding herself silently. It was ridiculous. Nicholas wasn’t the kind of man to sneak off with someone else. She bit her lip, her cheeks warming with embarrassment at the mere thought.
Her eyes flicked to the butler, who stood attentively near the door. Summoning what she hoped was a casual tone, she spoke. “Have you seen His Grace this evening?”
The butler stepped forward, bowing his head slightly. “The Duke is in his study, Your Grace.”
Violet’s shoulders sagged in relief though she immediately felt foolish for her earlier thoughts. Of course, he was in his study. Where else would he be? She glanced down at her untouched plate, her appetite long gone.
She had let her imagination get the better of her, crafting ridiculous scenarios out of nothing.
“Thank you,” she murmured.
The butler stepped back to his position near the door. Violet toyed with the edge of her napkin, her earlier unease replaced by a different kind of restlessness.
She knew she was being irrational, but Nicholas’ absence gnawed at her more than she wanted to admit. She had grown used to his company. The idea that he might be retreating into his own world again felt… unsettling.
She pushed her chair back and stood, pacing the length of the room as her mind raced. If he was in his study, then he wasn’t avoiding her entirely. And hadn’t he promised to help her with the ball?
“That’s right,” she murmured to herself, stopping mid-step. “He did say he would help.”
She would go to his study to seek his input on the ball, nothing more. It was perfectly reasonable.
With a final glance at the untouched plate on the table, Violet left the dining room, her steps purposeful as she made her way down the dimly lit hall.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
A sharp sound cut through the quiet of the study. Nicholas paused mid-motion, and his gaze flicked toward the door, irritation already beginning to simmer.
He had retreated to his study toavoidpeople this evening.
“I’m busy,” he called out curtly.
The silence that followed was satisfying. Perhaps whoever it was had taken the hint and left him to his work. Nicholas breathed a sigh of relief. But just as he dipped his quill into the ink pot, another knock—louder this time—broke the silence.
His jaw tightened.
“Go away.”
Another pause. He waited, watching the door as if his glare alone could ward off whoever was on the other side. When no sound came, he exhaled slowly and returned to his work.
But the knock came again.
This time, it was firmer, more deliberate. The sound echoed in the still room, grating against his already thinning patience. Nicholas closed his eyes briefly, his lips pressing into a thin line.
Pushing back his chair with a quiet scrape, he rose to his feet. His long strides carried him to the door, his irritation palpable. If this was some trivial matter, the person responsible would surely regret it.
He flung the door open, ready to deliver a reprimand.
And froze.
Violet stood there, her hand still half-raised as if prepared to knock again. She looked startled by his sudden appearance but not enough to shrink back. Instead, she straightened her shoulders, her hands nervously smoothing the folds of her gown.
Perfect.Just the person that he was hoping to avoid.
“Violet.”
“I…” She hesitated, her cheeks tinting pink. “I hope I’m not disturbing you.”
Nicholas blinked, caught off guard by her unexpected presence. His irritation from earlier waned slightly, replaced by a faint sense of curiosity. But he quickly reminded himself of his plan—distance. He had resolved to keep her at arm’s length, to avoid the pull she seemed to have over him.
