Page 17

For the rest of the meal, Nicholas made sure to pepper the conversation with the occasional compliment towards his wife. He wanted her family to get the sense that she had been settling in well, and that she had exceeded expectations in her role as a duchess.

That was important to him. Why exactly, he was not yet sure.

After dinner, the group moved to the garden, where a Pall Mall set had been laid out in preparation. Jasper began to hand out the mallets.

“Do you play, Your Grace?” Leopold asked.

Nicholas accepted a mallet with a faint smile. “I’ve played a few times.”

“Well, you’re in for a treat,” Leopold said with a laugh. “Violet is surprisingly ruthless when it comes to Pall Mall.”

Nicholas’ brow arched slightly as he glanced at Violet. She was standing a few paces away, her mallet resting lightly against her shoulder, a competitive smile on her lips. It was a side of her he hadn’t seen before—carefree, confident, and entirely at ease.

“Is that so?”

Leopold chuckled, leaning casually on his mallet as he watched Violet line up her shot. “Oh, absolutely. Don’t let that sweet face fool you, Your Grace. She’s been ruthless at this game since she was a child.”

“When she was little, she used to beg to play with us. We tried to put her off, you know, told her it was too rough for her or that the mallets were too heavy,” he continued.

“I’d imagine that didn’t work for long,” Nicholas remarked, his gaze flickering to Violet, intrigued.

“Not even a little,” Leopold said, laughing. “She wouldn’t take no for an answer. Eventually, we gave in, thinking she’d lose interest after a round or two. But she was quite persistent. She trounced us regularly after the first week.”

Nicholas looked at Violet. This was unexpected information. A new side of her that he was not aware of. So, she is a strategist.

“She even started reading books about the game to get better,” Leopold chuckled.

“Someone who doesn’t like to lose,” Nicholas said, the smallest trace of admiration in his voice. He turned to Violet, his gaze holding hers. “I see I’ll have to be on my guard.”

“You should,” Violet said playfully.

The game began, and Nicholas quickly realized Leopold hadn’t been exaggerating.

Violet played with a determination that bordered on ferocity. She laughed freely when Leopold missed a shot, and she rolled her eyes at Jasper’s approach to setting up his strikes.

Nicholas found himself watching her more than the game. Her guarded demeanor was completely absent here.

She moved with a certain sense of ease and confidence. It was a side of her that he had never seen before.

And frankly, he liked it.

“She’s different, isn’t she?” Jasper’s voice broke through Nicholas’ thoughts. The older brother stood beside him, his gaze fixed on Violet as she lined up her next shot.

“She seems… comfortable,” Nicholas replied, carefully picking his choice of words.

“She is. With us, at least. Violet has always been shy with new people. I am sure that you have noticed that already though.”

Nicholas nodded slowly, his eyes lingering on Violet. “It’s good to see her like this.”

Jasper studied him for a moment before speaking again. “Do you know how much trouble we had finding her a husband?”

Nicholas was suddenly unsure where the conversation was headed.

“Not because she’s difficult,” Jasper clarified. “But because she’s… particular. In fact, we were quite worried that she would never find someone to her liking.”

“Violet has high standards,” Nicholas replied.

He did not know exactly what it was that he felt hearing those words. But maybe pride was the word to describe it.

“She’s always preferred books over men. You’d hardly catch her at a ball unless it was absolutely necessary, and even then, she’d be hiding in a corner with a novel,” Jasper admitted with a laugh. He had become more open and receptive to Nicholas now, as was his plan.

“Books over men? I suppose that makes me the exception.”

“Perhaps,” Jasper said after a moment.

Before Nicholas could respond, Leopold’s voice rang out. “Your Grace! You’re up next!”

Nicholas stepped forward, lining up his shot with practiced ease. He struck the ball cleanly, sending it through the hoop with a satisfying click.

Leopold groaned dramatically from the sidelines, throwing his hands up in exaggerated frustration.

“Well done, Your Grace,” Leopold said though his tone carried a playful edge. “But don’t think that one good shot means you’ve won this round.”

Nicholas only smirked, handing the mallet off as Violet stepped up for her turn. She watched him briefly from the corner of her eye as she lined up her shot, struck by how at ease he seemed with her family.

A part of her had expected him to be… stiffer? Less willing to want to get along with her brothers—whom she knew quite well could be a handful at times. But here he was, adjusting perfectly.

But most difficult of all, he had somehow gotten her brothers to take a liking to him.

Charismatic. Yes, that would be a good word to describe him.

He blended seamlessly as though he had always belonged there.

It unsettled her.

Violet took her shot, and though it wasn’t as clean as Nicholas’, it was enough to push her ball closer to the next hoop.

“Good form,” Nicholas remarked. “You’ve been holding out on me, Violet.”

Violet felt her cheeks flush, and she quickly busied herself by stepping back to give Leopold room for his shot. “I’ve had years of practice,” she said lightly, refusing to meet his gaze. “My brothers made sure of that.”

Leopold laughed, setting up his shot. “She’s being humble again. If anything, we’ve been her victims.”

“Leopold,” Violet chided and then watched as her brother miss his shot entirely.

As the game continued, Violet found herself glancing at Nicholas more often than she cared to admit.

He was very, very distracting. And that was a problem.

She turned her attention back to the game, determined to ignore the way her heart sped up whenever he spoke or even just looked her way. It was just a game after all. There was no reason to feel anything more.

And yet, as Nicholas stepped up for his next shot, the sunlight catching the sharp lines of his face, Violet couldn’t stop the thought that crept into her mind unbidden: He’s far too attractive for his own good.

Or hers.