Page 23 of An Orphan for the Broken Duke

“I am here, am I not?” she said instead, resisting the urge to step forward so that his hand left her back. “That ought to be enough.”

“I suppose that if anyone asks me the reason for your dour mood, I will tell them it was something that you ate.” He smiled, and she wondered if it was for the comment, or for those few who watched them from the pews. “That you are here at all is a miracle—proof of your love for me.”

“I am here for Lucy,” she said. “That is all.”

“As am I,” he reminded her, his smile dropping. “And do not forget that.”

She looked up at him, a frown passing her brow. He was so determined for her to believe that Lucy was the only one he cared about; so determined that she very nearly believed him. He was certainly committed to that mode of explanation.

No… there must be something else. There has to be.

“There will be no breakfast,” he continued, his voice still low. “All things considered, I think it is best if we return to my residence at once. Lucy will be there once we arrive, so it is best that we do not keep her waiting.”

“I agree. Let us not waste time.” With that, Violet stepped forward and away from the altar. Unable to resist, she turned back and raised an eyebrow at the duke, as if hurrying him along.

The duke shook his head, but he did not appear angry. If anything, amusement was written on his face, as if he enjoyed Violet’s cantankerous nature. But then he swept toward her, and while she thought he was going to try and take her arm, he stepped around her and strode down the aisle.

Violet exhaled sharply through her nose, hoisted up the skirt of her gown, and hurried after him.

On either side of the aisle stood a few random guests, all appearing somewhat confused by the manner of the newlyweds’ exit. Violet ignored them, as they were not her concern. Lucy was the person who mattered… as well as the duke. A man she did not know, did not trust, and had to be careful around from here on out.

His mask will slip soon, I am sure of it. And I will be ready when it does.

The carriage ride to the duke’s residence began in silence.

It was a state of being that Violet ought to have been glad for, but which she found strangely awkward. Whatever she thought of the duke, she had to admit that those few times they had spoken, there was rarely a dull moment to be found.

Indeed, sitting across from him, she was glad that the duke looked out of the window, as it allowed her to study him closely. She stared at him, her eyes narrowed, and her mind turning as it searched for answers.

What is he thinking about? Why has he not said anything?

It must have been part of his plan. Now that he had her, she was trapped in a world that she did not know. Forced to live in his townhouse, she would become utterly and completely reliant on him. He owned her, he controlled her, and he must have been aware of the fact.

So, he sat in silence, letting her stew, likely waiting for her to ask what came next. Permission, is what she would require, not to mention instructions and the showing of how she was to behave. Oh yes, he was playing a game, and he was winning.

I will not ask permission for anything. If he thinks that he owns me⁠—

“I suppose now is a good time to speak of what is to come,” he cut over her inner ramblings and machinations. He gave a deep sigh as he continued to look out of the window, and then he turned to her. “Perhaps we ought to have discussed such things earlier, but with all that was left for me to arrange…” He shrugged. “Time was not our friend.”

“What is to come?” She kept her eyes narrowed. “And what does that mean, exactly?”

“You are a duchess, Violet—I may call you Violet, yes? I can refer to you as Her Grace, if you like.” He exhaled sharply with amusement. “Somehow, I doubt you would like such a thing.”

“I do not care what you call me.”

“Violet then,” he said, ignoring her tone. “And you may call me Rhys.”

“Is that an order?”

He frowned and tilted his head. “Merely a suggestion. Call me what you wish, for I do not care. The point is that your life has just changed in ways that I doubt you realize and are yet to comprehend. We should discuss what is expected.”

“I expect nothing,” Violet said, eyes still narrowed as she leaned back in the carriage seat. “Nor do I intend to change who I am or how I hold myself. I am here for Lucy, and that is all.”

“I know that,” he sighed. “I am glad that she is so important to you. I will do everything that I can for her, and for you. That is my chief concern. But the point remains, you are now a duchess, and that means something.”

“Not to me.”

She was being purposefully argumentative, testing the waters because she was certain that at any moment, the duke—or Rhys, as he wanted to be called—would snap and put her in her place. That was who he was at his core, and that was who she expected to roar to the surface when forced to do so.