CHAPTERONE
Hertfordshire,England. 1811
“She will do.”
Violet stared nervously at the regal form of the Duke of Ashton, who currently dominated the modest front parlour of her family home.
The imposing man flicked black leather riding gloves against the powerful line of his thigh, snugly encased in the finest fawn-coloured buckskin as he ran his commanding gaze over her trembling form.
Her father harrumphed with self-satisfied approval, although the duke hardly deigned to acknowledge his existence. His gaze was fixed on her alone, as Violet stood arranged in the centre of the room for his perusal.
The duke’s companion, introduced as Doctor Hamilton, stood off to the side. But his inspection of her from across the room was just as intense.
“Turn.”
Violet moved immediately to comply with the Duke of Ashton’s order, compelled by the deep, stern tone of his voice. She spun slowly in place, wishing she had something more flattering to wear than her sister’s turned-over frock.
For some inexplicable reason, Violet longed to make a favourable impression. Although her chance of dazzling a peer of the realm was laughable at best.
The duke hummed, his lips pressed tight together as he lifted his chin towards the doctor.
“Doctor Hamilton will examine her,” he declared, stepping towards the door with a decisive stride. He paused, sending her father a meaningful glower.
“Alone.”
Her father huffed, but roused himself from his seat, struggling with the wide girth of his belly and then shuffling out the door behind the duke.
Alone now, Violet eyed the doctor warily. Wondering just what kind of examination he intended.
Doctor Hamilton flashed her a wry smile, moving closer. He had a pleasing face, and his blue eyes and wind-ruffled blond hair gave him a warm appearance that helped to set her at ease.
“Now, my dear, do not be shy. I am to examine you to ensure that you are fit and healthy enough to bear the duke’s requisite heirs.”
Violet blushed violently at the implication, clasping her hands nervously at her waist as he stepped closer.
He gripped her chin, tilting her face towards the thin morning light from the window.
“You have a very petite form,” he mused, inspecting her closely. “Lovely hair and fine features. I think you will please His Grace sufficiently. Especially after we commission some new gowns.”
He frowned down at the worn cuffs of her dress, and Violet tugged nervously at the offending garment.
His hands drifted down to test the span of her waist, pinching in the fabric of the column-styled gown as he measured the swell of her hips.
“Yes. You should have no trouble bearing children. You are untouched, I assume?”
Violet swallowed thickly, but nodded, absolutely mortified at the question.
“Very good.”
Stepping behind her, he moved to undo the buttons that ran down her back, his fingers making quick work of the fastenings and then loosening her stays as Violet gasped in shock.
“Shh,” he soothed, running a smooth palm down her spine as Violet shivered in shock and a hint of something else, enthralling but also forbidden.
The doctor pushed the sleeves of her gown and chemise down her arms, his hands lingering over the curve of her neck and collarbone. Violet felt her breath speed up, her blush deepening at the intimate touch.
“Now, I will listen to your chest,” he murmured, his fingers artfully tapping against the curve of her ribs as he concentrated.
Violet could almost hear the sound of her blood thudding in her veins, the rasp of her breath as it surged deep into her lungs.
