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I t was… strange being a duchess.

For one thing, Violet had never wielded so much power in her entire life. Being the youngest sibling of two older brothers, she never did have the authoritative say on what went down in her house. Her opinion—if it was ever sought—was mostly ornamental.

Here at the estate, though, it felt like the opposite was true.

She had been Duchess of Bernight for a little more than two weeks.

It was enough time for her to get acquainted to the staff.

She knew mostly everyone now, for she had to interact with them daily when assigning them their duties for the day.

Since she rarely ever spoke to her own husband, she had more than enough time on her hands to get on with the household duties.

Yet… there was something missing. Something quite pivotal which Violet had not been able to pinpoint. But the realization came to her when she interacted with the housekeeper that morning.

“Mrs. Smith,” Violet called out. She had just awoken from her slumber and had ventured out to the hallway after dressing herself with the help of her lady’s maid.

“Your Grace.” The greeting was polite, but there was no warmth behind it.

“I’m glad that I have found you here this morning. I was hoping to recruit your help for something important. There are a lot of things that I do not quite understand yet about the estate and…”

Violet stopped halfway when she noticed the bored, almost disdainful expression on the woman’s face. “Mrs. Smith, is everything all right with you?”

The housemaid straightened her back, pulling her face into a polite smile. “Yes, of course, Your Grace. What…” She hesitated for a second. “What is it that you would like to know?”

“Well, there was the matter of getting acquainted with all the rooms of the estate. I believe I have not yet been given a tour,” Violet started.

Truthfully, her life felt confined to her chambers and the dining hall. At any given moment, she would be found in one of the two places. Apart from that, she had only been to the Duke’s study once. And even that was not to appreciate the surroundings but rather to have a word in private.

And besides, there was much to explore still. While Nightingale Manor was not shabby by any means, it was minuscule in comparison to Bernight. Violet was not sure just how many room there were but surely more than she would be able to count on her two hands.

“Would it be possible to do that, Mrs. Smith?”

To Violet’s surprise, the housekeeper did not seem to have an immediately enthusiastic response. If anything, it was the opposite. With the way that her eyes widened, she appeared to be positively appalled at the idea of having to give the Duchess a tour.

How… strange.

It seemed that her title meant little to those around her. The household staff obeyed her orders, yes, but with a clipped efficiency that bordered on indifference. Now that she thought about it, the rest of the staff acted in a similar fashion towards her.

Polite bows, muted curtsies, and the occasional murmur of “Your Grace” were given, but it all felt like a mechanical obligation. There was no warmth behind their words.

“Your Grace, as you know, the staff is currently adjusting to the addition of a new member of the household. As such, there is much to do which keeps their hands full. If this… tour… that you speak of must be conducted, then I shall have to carve out time for it.”

Violet blinked once. Had she heard that correctly?

“Um… of course, yes,” she muttered, sheepishly. “I shall wait for you, then.”

Mrs. Smith gave her a curt nod. “Thank you, Your Grace. Now, please if you could excuse me…”

Violet watched her leave. It was strange, really. Surely, this was not what she had expected when it came to being a duchess. Though never outright disrespectful, Mrs. Smith’s demeanor was unyielding. Almost as though she was hesitant to give the reins of control.

Just yesterday, an incident had occurred that had left Violet with a strange feeling inside of her. She had sought out Mrs. Smith to request a change to the morning tea service. Not a significant change by any means.

Mrs. Smith had listened, her hands folded primly in front of her apron. “Your Grace, the staff is accustomed to a particular routine. A sudden change might disrupt the efficiency of their work.”

“Oh, I see.” She had been quick to retreat, leaving the room with her cheeks burning.

What was going on?

And now that Violet thought about it more, all her days had followed a similar pattern. Her attempts to take charge—to be the Duchess—were met with passive resistance. Her own timidity didn’t help matters. She found herself second-guessing every decision, suddenly terrified to overstep.

And it was in that moment that she found herself missing home the most. She longed for a familiar face, for no formalities.

But she was now far away from home. All she could do was write a letter to her brothers or her friends.

But that did not do much to change the reality which she now occupied.

One that filled her up with a dreaded sense of loneliness.

Violet felt more drained than she ever had in her life. Truthfully, having no one to talk to was driving her to the brink of madness. Everyone needed someone to talk to.

Why should she be denied such a thing, only because she was married now? It was frustrating, and she had enough of it.

It was about dinner time—which Violet had found to be a solitary affair. Nicholas preferred to have his meals elsewhere, and since none of the staff could join her at the table, it meant that she would eat alone.

Depressing, really, but today, even more so than usual.

“This has gone on for too long,” she muttered to herself, looking for the butler. Tonight, she refused to eat alone—even if it meant dining with the proverbial devil.

“Your Grace,” the butler intoned as she approached, “is there something I can help you with?”

“Yes, have you seen the Duke this evening?”

“I believe he is in his study, Your Grace,” the butler replied.

“I see,” Violet pressed her lips together, a crease forming on her forehead. “And is His Grace aware that dinner is to be served shortly?”

“His Grace will be dining in the drawing room this evening.”

Violet’s chest tightened. She had no desire to eat alone again.

Without saying another word, Violet started heading towards the study.

“Your Grace, the Duke has given instructions to not be disturbed—” the butler said hurriedly behind her, but Violet did not care.

She was his wife, for heaven’s sake. Raising her hand, she knocked.

There was no response.

Frowning, she tried again, the sound sharp in the silence of the hallway. Still, there was nothing.

Taking a deep breath, she turned the handle and pushed the door open. The sight that greeted her stopped her in her tracks.

Nicholas sat at a large drafting table near the window, his back to the door. His shirt sleeves were rolled up, revealing his defined forearms. He was utterly engrossed in his work, the quill in his hand moving swiftly across the paper.

Violet stepped inside, her frustration momentarily forgotten. She had never seen him like this before, so unguarded. It surprised her that she wanted to stay— just to observe him. Her heart fluttered, and she felt a warmth rise in her chest.

I must be really out of methods to entertain myself, she chided herself mentally. But before she could make her presence known, a tap on her back diverted her attention away from her husband.

It was a frazzled Mrs. Smith staring at her with eyes wide, like she had just been made privy to the most scandalous of affairs.

“Your Grace,” her tone was reproachful, “it is improper to leave the dining table without eating. As duchess, you must?—”

“I know,” Violet interrupted, flustered. “I had just come to…”

Her explanation was cut short by the sound of movement behind her. She froze as Nicholas appeared in the doorway, his expression unreadable. His dark eyes flicked between her and the housekeeper.

“Mrs. Smith,” he said, his tone sharp, “you will refrain from chastising the Duchess in the future. Her actions are not yours to question.”

Mrs. Smith’s face paled. It was immediately clear that she was not expecting such a reaction. In earnest, neither was Violet. The housekeeper dipped into a curtsey, her voice trembling slightly. “Of course, Your Grace. My apologies.”

Before Violet could respond, Nicholas took her arm gently but firmly and guided her back into the drawing-room, closing the door behind them. The sudden intimacy of his touch made her heart start to pound.

“You really needn’t have been so harsh with Mrs. Smith,” Violet began to ramble. “I mean—she was only reminding me of the rules, and it was not nice that you?—”

“Violet…” Nicholas’ voice made her jump. “… need I remind you that you are a duchess?”

“Yes, but there was no need for?—”

“She overstepped,” Nicholas interrupted, his tone leaving no room for debate. “And so did you.”

“I overstepped?” Violet’s voice rose slightly. “How, precisely, did I overstep? By caring about the feelings of the staff?”

“You cannot behave like this,” he said, his voice softer now. “You are too quick to defer, too eager to please. You apologize when there is no need, and it makes them see you as… vulnerable.”

“Is that so terrible?” she asked, her voice trembling slightly. “To be vulnerable?”

Nicholas hesitated, his expression unreadable. “In this house? Yes. The staff may serve you, but they must also respect you. That respect cannot come if they see you doubting your own authority.”

Violet pursed her lips. Maybe he had a point. It was not the first time someone had told her that her softness led people to take advantage of her—it was something that her brothers had told her often, actually.

“Do you understand me?” Nicholas asked, raising an eyebrow.

In return, Violet mumbled something under breath.

“What was that now?”