Page 19

“ I thought I’d find you here.”

Violet nearly jumped out of her seat at the words. She looked up from her book to find the Duke staring down at her. It was early morning, and she was in the library catching up on some of her reading.

Between her responsibilities and her increasingly conflicting thoughts about her own husband, it was the one place that offered her the most reprieve.

Of course, he had to come here as well.

“How did not I hear you walk in?” she asked, begrudgingly closing her book.

Nicholas shrugged his shoulders, titling his head to look at the book title she had in her hands. “You were likely just too engrossed in your reading material. Another scandalous one, Violet? You’re naughtier than I give you credit for.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “I am not. ”

“Not what? Reading scandalous books or naughtier than I give you credit for?”

Her cheeks burned yet again. “Is there a reason you’re here to see me?”

Nicholas leaned against the edge of the table, his dark eyes glinting amusement. “As a matter of fact, there is. I came to inform you of a ball we’ll be attending in a few days.”

“A ball? ” Her face dropped instantly.

“Yes. It’ll be quite grand, actually. It’s being hosted by the Earl of Blackwood, and as his guests, it would be rude to decline.”

Violet groaned softly, setting the book down with a resigned sigh. “I haven’t attended a ball since before our wedding. And, if I may remind you, I hardly enjoyed myself then.”

“Ah, yes. Let us pray then that this one is not as fateful as that,” he chuckled, “or we will find ourselves in even more trouble.”

Her cheeks burned. It was the ball that had changed everything for her—and him.

“In any case, I have no desire to attend another ball. Surely, my absence wouldn’t be noticed.”

“On the contrary, Violet. You’re a duchess now, a figure of importance. Your presence will be not only noticed but expected.”

Violet bit her lip, her irritation growing. He was making it hard for her to get out of this. “But I don’t even have a gown.”

Her marriage had been arranged so hastily that it had not given her mother any time to have ball gowns made for her as would have been the case with other normal marriages.

“I thought as much,” Nicholas said, straightening. “Which is why we’ll be going shopping this afternoon.”

Violet’s jaw dropped. “This afternoon? Have you decided on everything without even so much as consulting me?”

“Of course,” he said as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. “I wouldn’t leave such an important matter to chance.”

“I do not think there’s a need for it. If anything, I’ll repurpose something old I have. I am sure if I look for it, I’ll find something that suffices.”

“Violet.” His voice suddenly grew deeper. “You are the Duchess of Bernight. You cannot suffice. You must dazzle. Now, please see to it that you’re prepared to go to the shops with me before the end of the hour.”

With that, he left her just sitting there.

“This is unnecessary,” Violet murmured. “You didn’t need to bring me here.”

It was a small form of protest, but of course, it fell on deaf ears. He had insisted on bringing her to the town—well, insisted being a mild term. He had all but demanded that she come with him.

“Nonsense,” Nicholas shrugged. “If we are to get a gown for you, then it must be from the finest modiste in the city. Did you really think I would have you dressed in rags?”

Violet looked up at the shop in question, her heart sinking slightly. The sign read Madame Celine’s. It was a familiar name of course—who hadn’t heard of it? It was whispered in awe by countless ladies during her debut Season.

Every girl wished to have a dress from here. But it was a pipe dream for most. Not only did the Madame charge prices equivalent to more than a months wage for most, the demand was so high that there were hardly any slots available.

“How on earth did you manage to secure an appointment for us on such short notice?” Violet asked.

A smug smile formed on the Duke’s face. “My dear, you seem to forget I’m a duke, and there’s no such thing as securing an appointment .”

Violet was impressed, but she tried not to let it show. It was clear that he was proud about his accomplishment as it was, and she did not wish to inflate his ego even further.

Nicholas opened the door, and the soft chime of a bell announced their arrival. The moment Violet stepped inside, her breath caught in her throat.

The place was like nothing she had ever seen before.

Unlike the modest dress shops she was accustomed to where bolts of fabric were stacked haphazardly and seamstresses bustled around frantically, this place was the exact opposite.

The scent of lavender hung in the air, truly elevating the high class feel of the place.

Exquisite gowns were displayed on mannequins, crafted with a level of detail that Violet had never even seen before.

Violet felt out of place in her simple day dress though she didn’t dare fidget or betray her unease. Next to her, she saw that the Duke looked completely relaxed. You’re a duchess, too. You’re not out of place, she reminded herself.

Moments later, Madam Celine herself appeared. She was an older woman, elegantly dressed as was to be expected. She surveyed the both of them sharply before breaking into a smile.

“Your Grace,” she greeted, dipping into a slight curtsy. “What a pleasure to see you again.”

“And you, Madame,” Nicholas replied smoothly. “Allow me to introduce my wife, the Duchess of Bernight.”

Madame’s gaze shifted to Violet, her smile widening as she took her in. “Ah, the Duchess,” she said warmly. “It is an honor, Your Grace. And may I say, you are even lovelier than I imagined.”

Violet felt her cheeks warm, and she managed a polite smile. “Thank you.”

Here she had thought that she would not fit into this world, but she was being received so warmly that Violet was beginning to change her mind.

“Madam, I want the most elegant gown for the Duchess. Spare no expense.”

Violet’s eyes widened, and she turned to him quickly. “Nicholas, that’s not?—”

“Necessary?” he finished for her, his smirk unmistakable. “It is.”

Madame Celine clapped her hands, already motioning for her assistants to gather fabrics and sketches.

“Of course, Your Grace. I shall ensure the Duchess is the envy of every lady in London.”

“That’s exactly what I want,” Nicholas said, his gaze flicking to Violet. “The finest gown. One that is your best work.”

Violet’s flush deepened, and she looked away, her hands twisting together nervously. “Your Grace, may I speak with you in private for a moment?” she whispered, urgently.

Nicholas exchanged a look with the Madame before stepping to the side.

“Go on, then.”

Violet gritted her teeth, “It all sounds a bit too over the top for an appearance at a ball.”

“Your first appearance,” he reminded her with ease.

“Yes, but surely there must be some prior considerations. This will draw too much attention. Everyone will be looking at me.”

While her words were laced in horror, they seemed to have the opposite effect on the Duke.

“Good.”

“Good?” she repeated, her voice laced with disbelief. “Why in heaven’s name would you want that?”

He stepped closer then, his voice dropping slightly as he said, “Because you’re my wife, Violet. I want to show you off.”

Her breath hitched at his words, and for a moment, she couldn’t find a response.

Nicholas held her gaze, his expression steady, and she realized there would be no changing his mind.

Madame Celine returned then, her arms laden with the finest silks.

“If the Duchess would step this way,” she said, gesturing toward the fitting area.

Violet hesitated, glancing back at Nicholas one last time. His smirk had softened into a smile, and he inclined his head slightly, encouraging her to go.

“No need to be shy, Your Grace.”

Reluctantly, she followed Madame Celine, her heart pounding.

She wasn’t sure what unnerved her more—the thought of being the center of attention in a grand new gown or the way Nicholas’ words lingered in her mind.

He wants to show me off. Her cheeks still burned. And for reasons she couldn’t quite name, that realization left her feeling both flustered and oddly pleased.

Violet was ushered over to the fitting room. Madame Celine and her assistants fussed over the gown she was trying on. It was one after the otheruntil finally, they decided on one.

The gown was a teal blue creation, cinched at the waist and flowing beautifully from there. Tiny crystals adorned the edges, and it fit her slender frame perfectly.

It was stunning, almost otherworldly, and Violet felt a pang of emotion as she caught her reflection in the gilded mirror.

Is that… really me?

“Exquisite,” Madame Celine declared, stepping back to examine her work. “You wear it beautifully, Your Grace. This is a gown worthy of someone in your position.”

“It’s… quite something,” Violet admitted, smoothing her hands nervously over the fabric. “But I worry it might be too much.”

“Too much?” Madame Celine’s sharp eyes narrowed as if Violet had just insulted her. “There is no such thing as too much. It is exactly what it needs to be. A lady of your standing must never fade into the background, Your Grace.”

Violet pressed her lips together, unsure how to respond.

Madame Celine approached, adjusting the gown’s sleeve carefully. “A lady’s dress, Your Grace, is not merely fabric and thread. It is a statement. It tells the world who she is and what her worth is.”

Violet nodded though only feebly. She was still overwhelmed by the gown’s grandeur.

Madame Celine stepped back again. “But a gown, Your Grace, also does something far more important than impressing society. It keeps a husband interested.”

That caught Violet’s attention immediately.

“I beg your pardon?”

Madame Celine’s expression remained serene, like she had uttered the most normal thing in the world.

“Your Grace, a woman’s attire is one of the tools she wields to maintain her husband’s admiration. A beautiful gown, well-fitted and elegant, ensures his attention does not wander elsewhere.”

“I—” Violet stammered, utterly taken aback. The last thing she had expected to receive was advice on how to keep her husband interested.

“This is of course, not to say that you are in need of it. The Duke looks quite besotted with you as is. Otherwise, he would not have brought you to my establishment,” Madame Celine said smoothly.

“However, I know these things through years of experience, Your Grace. You are young, and this is all new to you. But believe me when I say, a woman who commands attention through her appearance will never be overlooked. It is far better to be noticed than to blend into the crowd.”

Violet turned back to the mirror, her mind whirring. Her thoughts drifted to Nicholas, to the way he had looked at her when they entered the shop.

“And how do you…” She paused for a moment to choose her words carefully. “… manage the attention on yourself?”

“Your Grace,” Madame Celine’s voice softened slightly, “there is no need to manage it. You must revel in it. Your husband clearly understands this. His instructions were specific—only the finest for you. It is rare to see such attentiveness in a new marriage.”

Violet’s cheeks flamed again, and she looked away, focusing instead on the delicate crystals along her sleeve.

“It is very considerate of him,” Madame Celine continued with a small smile. “It is clear that he admires you greatly. And why shouldn’t he? You are lovely, my dear. Congratulations on your marriage. May it be as harmonious and well-fitted as the gowns you wear.”

“Thank you,” Violet could only manage to murmur.

Madame Celine clapped her hands, signaling her assistants to bring in another gown. “Now, if this is the gown you have chosen, shall we show it to the Duke as well?”

Violet shook her head, surprising herself. “No. I wish for it to be a surprise.”

Though she wasn’t sure she entirely agreed with with everything the modiste had said, she couldn’t deny that the thought of Nicholas admiring her was… unnervingly pleasant.

Dangerously so.