More than a brother, more than a friend. Someone who knew all the darkest parts of him and still remained at his side. Both of them.
Ashton placed his hand on Richard’s shoulder, gripping him there.
“Just you wait, Richard. Violet will not be the one to divide us. Rather, she will join us more completely, as I can see that already she has your loyalty, as you have mine, as I have yours. Now, we will be more than partners. We will be a family, and whoever’s babe is the one to carry the name will be irrelevant, as it will be ours.”
CHAPTERSEVEN
When Violet awokethe next morning, the sun was streaming through the windows and a veritable gaggle of maids had descended on her room. Fluffing the pillows for her as they placed a tray with tea and toast on her lap, carrying pails of steaming water behind the screen in the corner to make up a bath.
It was quite overwhelming, but also, lovely. Never had she been fussed over in such a manner. The maids were sweet, blushing and smiling as they ushered her into the steaming copper tub lined with fine muslin.
One of them introduced herself as Violet’s new lady’s maid, Moira, and proceeded to take over, flinging open the closet to reveal a row of dresses Violet had never seen before.
“His Grace had these rushed straight from Town,” declared Moira, proudly running her hands along the fine fabrics.
“Good heavens,” gaped Violet, aghast at this simple display of the man’s influence.
“I think this one,” she said, drawing forth an elegant morning dress of finest pale pink silk overlaid with white gauze.
It was quite possibly the most beautiful thing Violet had ever seen.
Once she was dried, powdered and dressed in the breathtaking gown, Violet stood and stared at herself in the vanity mirror, turning slowly from side to side.
The maids bustled around the room behind her, but all the commotion faded away as Violet saw herself as something new for the first time in her life.
The woman reflected in the extravagantly large looking glass was as if a stranger. A polished, wide-eyed lady of fashion, with skin glowing pink and healthy, fresh from the bath and hair piled high, curled in pale blonde ringlets around her face.
Violet saw a woman there now, as she looked into her own eyes. Gone was the shy girl who had tiptoed so quietly around her parent’s house.
Violet raised her chin and tested a smile on these strange new lips, her chin quivering slightly as she realised that she could no longer be that girl, even if she wanted to.
She was the Duchess of Ashton now, and indeed she looked the part. Now, Violet would just have to learn the manners and actions expected of her station, no matter how her stomach churned and her heart pounded at the realisation. Ladies of more elevated families trained their whole lives for a moment such as this, but Violet had never considered anything other than an ordinary life, perhaps the best she would have hoped for was to be a pastor’s wife.
She was completely out of her depth, but it mattered not. This was what she must become.
The rest of the day passed as if in a blur.
The housekeeper took Violet on a tour of the manor, explaining the family history and all the intricacies of running a household of such a size as they walked through the seemingly endless rooms, parlours and hallways.
By the time dinner was announced, Violet was exhausted. Overwhelmed and slightly terrified. And this was but one of the duke’s properties.
Her only hope was to put herself in the housekeeper’s good graces and hope that she would find a loyal and trusted servant in the matronly woman.
Seated to Ashton’s right at the table, Violet managed somehow to put the food to her lips and swallow, even as nerves made her long to sink through the chair and disappear.
Of course, the duke hardly appeared to notice her discomfort. The two men were deep into a discussion of estate matters that she listened to with half an ear, thankful that there was no need for her to say anything beyond polite pleasantries.
Once, over the fish course, she caught Ashton’s eyes on her, lingering on her face with an intense expression that disappeared as soon as she looked up. The doctor, Richard, noticed the pause in conversation, but then smiled at her with that kind expression and deftly steered the attention away from her again.
They were giving her space to grow accustomed to them, Violet realised belatedly, as she watched them completely at ease in each other’s company.
It might have seemed sweet, if she didn’t already know what waited for her after they retired upstairs. There, in the duke’s chambers, there awaited nothing tender. Not really.
There would be need, there would be grasping, gasping pleasure. And, as shameful as it was, Violet knew she would not resist them at all.
If anything, she wanted to know how much satisfaction she could claim for herself.
CHAPTEREIGHT
