Violet pulled her fan out of her sleeve and waved it below her face. “Is it hot in here?” she asked no one in particular. It wasn’t the first time she’d felt overwhelmed by… all of it.
Because falling in love with Simon Cockfield was one thing, marrying the Duke of Blackheart quite another.
“I hadn’t noticed. Is Blackheart taking you driving this afternoon?” Greystone asked.
She kept right on waving her fan. “He is. But first, we’ve plans to go… shopping this morning.” The ruse was all part of a last-minute decision agreed upon by her and Simon. Reluctant to take anything away from Diana and Greys’s wedding plans, but also too impatient to wait for their own, they’d agreed to marry by special license.
Today—Violet shivered—was her wedding day.
And as most of their relationship had been conducted secretly, aside from a very public and unusual engagement, they’d decided a private ceremony was appropriate.
“I’m just going to pop upstairs.” Violet allowed Mr. Smithery to pull back her chair. “So that I’ll be ready when the carriage arrives.”
Simon had asked if she minded the groom seeing her before the ceremony if she thought it would be bad luck. When she’d hesitated, he’d told her not to worry.
So she hadn’t.
Because the line in her palm had not been wrong after all.
And according to Simon’s lifeline, she was marrying a man who valued family and relationships greatly.
After checking her hair, unable to sit in her chamber, Violet went downstairs early and slipped outside just as a gleaming black coach pulled up to the house. She expected to ride to the church alone but was pleasantly surprised when Bethany peered out the door.
“You needed witnesses,” Bethany explained, looking fresh and pretty in a mint cotton gown. “And when I heard Blackheart discussing it with Chaswick, I insisted it be the two of us.”
“Of course.” Violet climbed in and steadied herself with the leather strap as the coach rolled onto the street. The ceremony was scheduled to take place at St. George’s, which was just a short drive away, and yet they seemed to be traveling in the wrong direction.
“Where are we going?” Violet reached across to open the small door to the driver’s box but Bethany stopped her.
“He’s been instructed to deliver us at precisely nine o’clock, so we’re circling the park first.”
“I wouldn’t have minded waiting.” But Violet leaned back and smiled at Bethany. “It was in the papers,” she said, staring forward.
“The announcement? I saw that.”
“No, the other.” Violet smothered a grin with her gloved hand. She would never forget watching her proud Mr. Cockfield leisurely remove his waistcoat and cravat, not showing any embarrassment, but instead, grace that matched Achilles himself. When he’d lowered his hands to unfasten his breeches, however, she had dragged him behind a nearby tree. “Surely not everything?”
He’d smiled wickedly. “I’ve been told I may leave my boots on.”
She had covered her eyes and turned her back.
“If I’d thought this through properly, I would have brought Dane along,” he’d commented while shuffling out of his breeches, handing them to her from behind.
“Dane?”
“Mr. Dane, my valet.”
Her butler, Violet took a moment to marvel, employed a valet.
“Do you need help?” She kept her eyes focused in front at her, ironically, on the statue.
“I think I’ve got this. With or without the boots?”
“Er… With? You don’t want to hurt your feet.” She couldn’t help but giggle at the image of him wearing his boots and nothing else.
“Damn breeches… Why do they make these so tight?”
“If you take your time removing your boots and then putting them back on, you might have cover of darkness.” Violet had become more nervous for him with each passing second.
