A heavy sigh pushed its way through her. As much as she wished it, she couldn’t avoid Robert forever. So maybe it was best to get it over with. Perhaps she’d even discover that there was no reason for her to be concerned about seeing him again. He’d only promised her the world, after all. But that had been a long time ago, and they’d both married different people since.
She’d also changed in the years between, she reminded herself.
You’re stronger now than you were before. Show him that.
Determining to do so, however, proved harder than she’d imagined when she found herself seated in his parlor the following day. She was familiar with the space—had spent countless hours here when accompanying her father on visits to the late duke; the man who’d ensured she would want for nothing when he’d given her his name and fortune.
As she ought to have expected, Robert made her wait almost half an hour before he finally deigned to put in an appearance. The moment he did, Viola’s heart lurched and her stomach flipped over. It was as if no time had passed at all since the day he’d declared her unfit to be his bride. She was once again reminded of the naïve young girl she’d been, ready to trust and believe that the happily-ever-after she’d always dreamed of could be hers, as long as she did what Robert asked.
Instead he’d destroyed her faith in men by showing her how easy it had been for him to fool her. As long as he’d tempted her with the one thing she’d wanted the most.
Love.
Concealing her distress beneath a façade she hoped looked as calm as it felt, Viola stood with as much dignity as she could muster. “Welcome home, Robert.” She dipped her head in greeting. “It is good to see you again after all this time.”
He was closer now, having crossed the room while she’d spoken. His hair was the same brown shade she remembered, albeit with a little less luster, his eyes as blue as they’d been the first time he’d kissed her, though fresh creases at the corners suggested that life had not been easy for him while he’d been away. “I am the Duke of Tremaine now,” he told her. “Please remember that when you address me in the future.”
Viola blinked, recalling how she’d instinctively used his given name. Because they’d been intimate once. Friends even. But all of that was now in the past.
“Forgive me.” And then she forced herself to say it. “Your Grace.”
He smiled as smugly as when he’d presented her to his fiancée five years earlier. It had happened in this very parlor the same day she’d given her body to him. Her father had been dead for almost a year by then, and she had been invited to live at Tremaine House under the old duke’s protection. When Robert had asked her to come and join him shortly after their lovemaking, she’d thought he meant to propose. Instead he’d announced his betrothal to Lady Beatrice. The introductions that had followed had been swift and jarring. Viola had felt it like a stab to her chest. She’d felt like a spectator in a nightmare, her body completely numb while the world crashed down around her.
“But you declared your love for me,” she’d stupidly insisted later that day when she’d managed to find Robert alone.
He’d looked at her with the sort of pity she’d since determined never to inspire in anyone ever again. “You are a sweet girl, Viola, but you cannot seriously have thought I would ever consider marrying you.”
She’d stared at him as if seeing him for the very first time. “Of course not.”
“We belong to different social classes. It would never work.”
“So you built an illusion for me out of lies?”
He’d winced ever so slightly before hardening his gaze and saying, “You cannot lay all the blame at my feet alone when we both know you were more than eager to let me have you.”
She’d done something then that she would not have thought herself capable of. She’d stepped forward and slapped him. And then she’d quit Tremaine House and hadn’t seen Robert again. Until now.
“I cannot believe you married my father,” he said, spitting the words with disgust. He shoved his hands in his pockets and went to the window to look out over the garden. “And to think I almost felt bad for you after announcing my betrothal to Beatrice.” He snorted. “You seemed genuinely distressed, but instead you were only sorry to lose the ladder you hoped I’d provide.”
“No.” She shook her head as he turned to face her. His jaw was more pronounced than it had been when she’d last seen him, and lines of hardship marked his brow. There was even a scar on his left cheekbone, she saw now, reminding her their lives had diverged in their years apart.
“Liar!” His shoulders bunched angrily beneath his well-tailored jacket, puckering the superfine fabric. “You are a social climber, Viola, and when you couldn’t have me, you launched yourself at my father. Isn’t that right?”
She shook her head, horrified that this was how he saw her—how anyone might see her—and yet she’d heard the rumors and had long since been forced to acknowledge how things looked.
“Your father was a kind and generous man.” She sank down onto a nearby chair. “My father saved your life when you were an infant, Robert, and your father always believed he owed him a debt of gratitude for that. Marrying me and ensuring my continued well-being was his way of paying that debt.”
Robert stared back at her for a long moment before saying, “No. It was your way of robbing me of my rightful inheritance.” He glared. “Somehow you managed to convince him to leave everything to you.”
“That is not true.” She hadn’t even known the extent of the wealth Tremaine had willed her until after the funeral. “And he didn’t leave everything. There are still the entailed properties and—”
“Much good that will do me besides incurring debt.” He started pacing, hands clutched behind his back. “You ought to know I intend to contest it.”
“What?”
He stopped and faced her, the planes of his face pronounced by hard shadows cast in relief on account of the afternoon light spilling in through the windows. “I’ve hired a barrister.” His eyes gleamed with the promise of vengeance. “He believes it will be fairly simple to prove that you took advantage of an old man on his deathbed. Especially since Findlay happened to mention that my father was prone to moments of confusion before he passed.”
Viola’s stomach began to churn. “But...” She shook her head. “Most of the funds your father left me have been spent. I have little to give you.”
