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N icholas Havenford had never been a man to indulge others’ demands—least of all those that disrupted his already established routines.

On any normal day where he was not expected to entertain guests, it was usual for him to take his meals in either the comfort of his chambers or the sheltered familiarity of his study.

And yet, here he was, walking over to the dining hall for dinner time—voluntarily—for the first time in weeks.

“Your Grace.” Even the butler could not hide the shock in his voice when he saw him approaching a distance away. And Nicholas could not blame him.

It was curiosity, he supposed, that had brought him here. Curiosity about the new Duchess of Bernight. There were not many things that caught the Duke’s curiosity, but once they did…

“Might as well,” he muttered to himself, stepping inside the dining hall with his usual unhurried confidence.

His gaze swept the table before landing on the Duchess herself.

She appeared to be unaware of his appearance, instead finding herself absorbed by her plate of food.

Her head was bowed slightly, her fork poised as if she were contemplating whether to take another bite of the roasted meat.

How very… composed for something so trivial. The scene was enough for him to pause briefly, if only to observe.

Curious. Yes, that was the right word. He was curious about her.

When the butler announced him, Nicholas noted the way Violet froze, her fork suspended mid-air. For a fleeting second, her expression was one of shock, as if the most absurd thing had happened.

He moved to the table, carefully taking a seat across from her.

“You’re staring, Duchess,” he said, a hint of amusement playing at the corner of his mouth. Then, with an easy grace, he reached for the bottle of wine that rested nearby. “Do you mind if I pour?”

“Not at all , ” Violet managed, her cheeks growing rosier to match how flustered she appeared, “Pardon me… I just… didn’t expect that…”

Nicholas allowed himself a smirk as he poured his own glass of wine, waving off the footman who moved to assist. “No need to stutter, my dear. What is there to hesitate about between a husband and wife?”

The blush that crept up her cheeks was as satisfying as it was amusing. Nicholas leaned back in his chair, cradling the wine glass between his fingers as he regarded her across the table.

“You seemed to prefer hiding away in your study,” she said, her tone polite but tinged with disbelief. “Forgive me for assuming that tonight would be no different.”

“Hiding?” Nicholas repeated, arching a brow. “That is an… interesting choice of word. Besides, Duchess, you seem to forget that you were the one who requested my presence at the dining table tonight…”

Her blushed deepened, and she looked away for a moment, only to return more composed. “I do remember. I just did not expect you to listen to me. In fact, I had assumed that avoidance was a cornerstone of our… arrangement.”

The corner of his mouth lifted at her quick retort. He had expected her to shy away from him, to become flustered or intimidated. Instead, here she was, matching his tone with a boldness he hadn’t seen before.

Interesting. Must be something in the water.

“Perhaps I’ve grown weary of my own company,” he replied smoothly, swirling the wine in his glass before taking a slow sip.

“Or perhaps…” Violet said, taking her time to draw out the words, “Now… I really do not wish to assume anything, but perhaps… you’re just curious about mine.”

“Curious about your company, you mean?” Nicholas paused mid-sip, meeting her gaze over the rim of his glass. “That would be a first. I’ve been called many things, Duchess, but rarely curious.”

That was not the full truth, and he knew it. But he was not about to give away his true stance just yet. Their little dance had only just begun.

She tilted her head, and her green eyes seemed to challenge him. For all her outward appearances of a wallflower, something flickered inside those eyes.

“Then what would you call it, Your Grace? I would be interested in hearing what your thoughts may be…”

“An obligation,” he said at last. “After all, I couldn’t let it be said that I refuse to share my wife’s company.”

For a split second, Violet’s face seemed to fall. But she recovered just as quickly. “Ah, I see,” she said, her tone as composed as ever. “So, you’re here out of duty, then? I must say that really is quite noble of you.”

“It is,” he replied, leaning back further in his chair, watching her with open amusement.

“Yes, of course. How foolish of me to not make the connection sooner,” she added, her tone laced in mock affront. “Here I was considering all manner of ridiculous things… like you had arrived only to critique my table manners.”

“Critique?” Nicholas repeated, laughing now. “Why do you think I would concern myself with such a thing? I’m certain they are impeccable.”

“They are, thank you very much. Though it’s hardly my fault I’ve had no one to impress with them.”

“I am worried what they’re teaching young ladies these days.” He shook his head, still laughing. “What gave you the impression that it is table manners that impress a gentleman?”

Violet looked up at him, knitting her eyebrows together. “Is it not?”

“There are other metrics to consider, Violet.”

“Well then… I am certain I would excel at those as well.”

There was definitely something in the water. Someone had replaced his demure, wallflower wife with a bold, confident lady.

“What is the point of suspense? Go on, impress me, then.”

The look she gave him was priceless—equal parts exasperated and caught off guard. “I beg your pardon?”

“I thought that I made myself clear,” Nicholas said, setting his wine glass down with an audible clink. “I have made the journey here from my study to share a meal with you. You’ve been lamenting my absence, or so you claim. Why not make this worth my while?”

She blinked at him, her cheeks coloring as her wit caught up with his challenge. “You wish for me to… make this worth your while?”

“Yes.” He flashed her a grin.

“And there is still something left for me to prove here? You act as though my mere presence isn’t enough.”

He tilted his head, his dark gaze steady on her. “Forgive me for having standards, Violet.”

Her mouth dropped open slightly, and Nicholas fought the urge to grin. She was flustered, yes, but she was also fighting back—not immediately giving in or getting offended by his attempt at provocation.

“I have to say, you are the only man alive,” she said, recovering quickly, “who could conduct a conversation that is both flattering and offensive at the same time.”

“A talent, I agree,” he replied smoothly, “But you seem to have some… hidden talents of your own.”

If this… whatever this was between them… was a game, then at least she was shaping up to be an entertaining partner.

Violet rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t quite hide the small smile tugging at her lips. He watched her for a moment longer, surprised by how much this simple exchange pleased him.

Dinner had always been a nuisance for him, an empty ritual to be avoided. But tonight… tonight there was life at the table.

“Why are you really here?” Violet asked suddenly.

Nicholas paused, considering her question as he helped himself to a generous serving of roast. When he finally looked up, his expression was placid. “Would you believe me if I said I simply wished to see you?”

She arched a brow, clearly not fooled in the slightest. “No.”

That got a chuckle out of him. “Clever girl. Then perhaps this was your lesson number one in being a Duchess.”

Her face scrunched up in confusion for a moment. “I am not sure if I understand, Your Gr?—”

“Nicholas,” he corrected her swiftly. “And there is nothing complicated here to understand. You remember that I told you that you must start to act like a duchess as well. That is to say, you must become bolder in your demands in manner that suits your title.”

She nodded, “The matter with Mrs. Smith, you mean?”

“ Everything, ” he stressed. “Consider this a lesson in practicality. If you wish to be treated like a duchess, then you must speak like one.”

Violet blinked. Their eyes locked together for a moment, but she was the first one to look away. “I…” She cleared her throat loudly. “Well, I did not know that asking was all that I needed to do. I could not have predicted that.”

“Then perhaps I’m simply unpredictable,” he countered, his tone light. “Does that unsettle you?”

He expected her to say yes, but she surprised him yet again.

“No, not at all. If anything, I find it… refreshing.”

A rare warmth spread through Nicholas’ chest at her answer though he quickly masked it behind another sip of wine. “How so?”

“Well, for one thing,” she replied, meeting his gaze directly, “I am not the only one here who is a curiosity.”

Nicholas chuckled, the sound low and genuine. “No, I suppose you are not.”

If you wish to be treated like a duchess, you must first start acting like one.

Nicholas’ words had been repeating themselves in her head ever since dinner time. Now in the privacy of her chambers, she stared back at her reflection in the mirror.

The woman that stared back at her did not appear to be any different than the Violet that she had known all her life. But there was no denying the fact that everything had changed. She was a duchess now, and with that came responsibilities.

She straightened her back, a newfound resolve settling over her. Her husband might be insufferable, but perhaps, for once, he had been right. If she wanted respect—if she wanted to be the Duchess of Bernight—then she would need to act like it. It was time to stop apologizing and start leading.

Violet rose from her chair, her confidence bolstered. “Mr. Graves,” she said to the butler, who stood at his usual post, a model of perfect composure.

“Your Grace?” he replied, his tone as formal and impassive as ever.