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“ A surprise?”

The Duke’s tone was full of amusement as Violet informed him that he was not to see what gown she had decided on until it was time for the ball.

“Yes. A little mystery can be good, wouldn’t you agree?” Violet said as the couple walked out of the shop. She seemed to be in high spirits.

He did.

“Well, I suppose I shall have to wait for the grand reveal like the rest of the ton.”

Violet turned to look at him, an uncharacteristically mischievous smile forming on her face. “I will make sure that you’re the first one. Exclusive.”

If Nicholas did not know any better, he would assume that the Duchess was flirting with him. But—perhaps unfortunately — he did know that she would not do such a thing.

The mood between them shifted as they approached their carriage.

He noticed it before she did—the curious glances, and the murmured words that followed. Nicholas was accustomed to being noticed—it came with the title, the power, the name. But this time, the weight of their attention wasn’t on him.

It was on her.

“Is that the new Duchess of Bernight?” a voice whispered from somewhere nearby, low but pointed enough to carry.

“I heard she trapped him,” another added. “Some sort of scandal, wasn’t it?”

Nicholas’ jaw tightened, feeling an overwhelming surgepass over him.

His eyes flicked to Violet, watching her closely.

She was walking a step ahead, her posture poised.

She did not immediately show her reaction, but he was perceptive enough to notice the way her shoulders tensed and the faint falter in her step before she corrected it.

She was trying to hide it, keeping her gaze to the floor as she climbed into the carriage.

“Violet,” he said, following to her side, “look at me.”

She pretended not to hear and looked down at her hands instead.

“ Duchess.”

His tone was more demanding now.

“Let me make something clear. If anyone did the trapping here, it was me.”

Her lips parted slightly, startled by his words.

“Do you honestly think I would allow myself to be caught if I didn’t want to be?” he continued, his tone edged with humor. But really, he wished to lighten the mood.“Violet, you’re my duchess now. Let them whisper, but they will never be at the position you are now. They’re just jealous.”

He did not know where the possessiveness in his voice came from, but he was beginning to realize that when it came to her, it always followed.

She stared at him for a moment, as though processing his words, before a soft laugh escaped her. He hadn’t realized how much he’d wanted to hear her laugh until that moment.

“What’s so amusing?”

“Nothing,” Violet shook her head. “Well, just… you.”

“Elaborate.”

But Violet merely continued to smile. “I will try and take your advice for the next time I overhear a whisper. If for nothing else but to make myself feel better.”

“As you should.”

She continued to look in his direction, smiling as though she was in on a joke that he was not aware of.

“Am I missing something here?”

“Nothing, nothing. Just that… I am surprised by you, every day,” she admitted. “And dare I say it, you’re even starting to look less like a vampire.”

Confused by her words, he decided he’d get an answer out of her—one way or the other, but he’d wait for when the time was right. For now, he was happy that at least she had not let the words of others to get to her.

Keeping your husband interested.

It was something that Violet had thought about more times than she would like to admit to herself. Surely, the Madame had many years of experience and must know what she was talking about.

For Violet, this felt like an added pressure. On top of learning how to be the perfectly poised duchess, she had to think about how to be the perfect wife.

Daunting, yes. But as her maids helped her change into new gown, she found herself almost looking forward to the challenge.

“Maria,” she said to one of her maids—the one that she trusted most, “how can one get and sustain their husband’s interest in them?”

Maria paused mid-motion, her hands deftly adjusting the bodice of Violet’s new gown. Her dark eyes flickered with surprise at the unexpected question, but she quickly masked it with a polite smile.

“Your Grace,” she began cautiously, smoothing out the fabric of the dress, “I don’t think I’m quite the one to advise a lady on such matters.”

“Why not? You’re married, aren’t you?”

Violet knew that perhaps her maid was not the best person to ask for advice on this matter, but in the absence of her friends, she was the best option available. After all, she had to talk about it with someone. She must.

“That I am, Your Grace. But a maid’s marriage is hardly the same as a duchess’.”

“Still,” Violet pressed, adjusting the lace on her sleeve, “surely there are some universal truths. Some might say that it was all about one’s appearance, but that can’t be everything, can it?”

Maria hesitated, “Appearance matters, surely. But you shan’t have any trouble with that, Your Grace. I am sure that the Duke is completely besotted by your looks.”

I am not too sure of that. “Do you think there’s more to it?”

All the fictional men that Violet had read about in her novels seemed to value something greater than just appearance.

“I think men—husbands—are more complicated than we sometimes give them credit for, Your Grace. Some care only for what is on the surface. Others… well, others look for something deeper. Respect, perhaps. Or an understanding of them that is deeper than anyone else in their lives can offer.”

Violet frowned slightly, turning back to the mirror. Suddenly, Madame Celine’s method sounded a lot simpler.

“I suppose those are important. But how does one even begin to offer that when…” the two of you barely know each other.

“Do you mean when you’re still getting to know each other in a new marriage, Your Grace?” the maid added, helpfully.

Violet nodded. Her phrasing was a lot less harsh than the one Violet had in her mind. “Yes, precisely that.”

Maria smiled faintly. “That’s what time is for, Your Grace. It’s not something you can rush.”

“Oh, I am not sure that I would be able to rush it even if I wished to,” Violet muttered to herself.

Getting to know Nicholas felt like a glacial process. It wasn’t as though either of them were revealing personal details about themselves whenever they did get together which itself was a rare thing.

Maria, busy with the final touches on Violet’s gown, caught the quiet muttering but wisely chose not to comment. When Maria was done, she quietly stepped back from the gown.

“There, Your Grace,” Maria said, gently adjusting the last fold of the gown. “You are ready.”

Violet turned to the mirror, her breath hitching slightly at the sight that greeted her.

The lady reflected back at her was elegant, composed, and undeniably stunning.

The shimmering gown hugged her figure perfectly, and her hair was swept into an intricate updo, small strands curling softly at her temples.

For a moment, Violet didn’t recognize herself.

“If I may say, Your Grace, you look magnificent.”

Violet lifted her hand to touch the delicate lace at her collarbone, her fingers brushing the cool fabric as her lips tilted into a tentative smile.

“Do you think…” Violet hesitated, glancing at Maria in the mirror before continuing, “Do you think this will be enough?”

Maria’s brow furrowed slightly. “Enough, Your Grace?”

“To keep his attention,” Violet clarified. “The Duke. Do you think appearances alone will suffice tonight?”

Maria’s expression softened, and she stepped closer, her hands clasped in front of her. “If I may, Your Grace, the way His Grace looks at you has very little to do with outward embellishments, but for tonight, I think you’ll find that appearances are an excellent start.

Violet allowed herself a soft laugh. “I suppose I can only wait and see.”

Getting the Duke’s attention. It felt like a challenge that Violet was ready to take on.

“Where is the Duchess?”

There was an unmistakable edge of impatience in the Duke’s voice. He stood near the bottom of the sweeping staircase, adjusting the cuffs of his coat.

The butler inclined his head respectfully. “She is still upstairs, Your Grace. I anticipate that she will be here any moment.”

Nicholas glanced at the towering clock near the door, its hands creeping dangerously close to the time they were meant to leave.

“We will be late,” he muttered, half to himself, running a hand through his hair.

As if on cue, a soft rustling sound drew his attention upward. He turned, and the words he’d been about to say died on his lips.

At the top of the staircase stood a lady. Yes, it was Violet, but she was unlike he had ever seen her before. The gown looked magnificent on her, as though it had been crafted for her frame specifically.

Nicholas stared. He could not help his mouth falling open. And for the first time in as long as he could remember, words completely failed him.

“Your Grace,” Violet called softly, descending the staircase in a poised manner. “I must apologize for the delay. We lost track of time, and?—”

Nicholas raised a hand, stopping her mid-sentence. She blinked, startled, as his gaze remained locked on her.

“If this is the result,” he said, his voice quieter now but no less steady, “you could take all the time in the world, and I would not mind in the slightest .”

So what if he was flirting? It was hard not to when she looked like… that.

Violet froze at the bottom of the stairs, her cheeks warming as his words registered.

“Shall we get going?”

Nicholas cleared his throat, stepping back slightly and offering her his arm. “Yes, of course.”