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V iolet hardly got a wink of sleep that night. As the morning sun rose, she found herself lying in her bed in a state of wakeful dreamlessness.

We should live separately.

She had repeated the scene more times than she was able to count. The revelation had come so unexpectedly.

The distant sound of carriage wheels on gravel snapped her out of her thoughts. She sat up abruptly, the ache in her chest sharpening. Sliding off the bed, she padded barefoot across the cold wooden floor to the window. She pushed aside the curtain just enough to see the front drive below.

There he was.

Nicholas stood beside the carriage, speaking briefly with a footman who loaded the last of his trunks. He looked as composed as ever. If the conversation they’d had the night before had affected him at all, he showed no signs of it now.

And that frustrated her more than anything.

She wanted to call out to him, to demand an explanation that made sense, but what good would it do? He had made his decision.

She watched him as his gaze flickered toward the house—toward her window. For a moment, her breath caught, and she hastily ducked behind the curtain to avoid being seen—for it would only make the entire process much harder for her than it already was.

But despite her better judgement, Violet could not resist getting another look. When she peeked out again, he was already climbing into the carriage. The door shut with a firm click, and moments later, the horses began to move until they disappeared into the distance.

He was truly gone.

How had it come to this? Things had been fine between them. She had thought they were making progress, that they had been growing closer, only to have met an abrupt end.

She did not know whether he ever planned on returning.

Or if he ever did, whether they would recover from the blow of this unexpected separation.

Her mind raced with the most wicked possibilities.

Would he return to his rakish ways? Would she be the subject of gossip the ton would aim at a lady whose husband was involved with others?

The worst of it all was that she did not know for certain just what had spurred this on. Was it something she had done? Or worse, something she hadn’t done?

Had she been inadequate— confirming the worst of her fears that Nicholas had simply grown bored of her?

Violet pressed her hands to her temples, willing herself to stop thinking in circles, but it was no use. Her mind wouldn’t relent.

Her thoughts were interrupted when her door creaked open.

“Good morning, Your Grace.” Maria stepped in hesitantly, carrying a tray of breakfast.

Violet turned toward her, blinking as though she had forgotten anyone else existed in the world.

Maria placed the tray on the small table by the window, her movements deliberate and respectful. “Shall I draw the curtains fully, Your Grace?”

“No, thank you,” Violet replied, not looking in her direction. “And you may take the tray of breakfast back with you as well. I’m not very hungry.”

It turned out that having your husband up and leave killed your appetite entirely.

Maria hesitated, her gaze lingering on Violet. “As you wish, Your Grace. Is there anything I can do?”

“No,” she said finally, shaking her head. “Inform the staff that I shall be resting in my chambers today and that I should not be disturbed.”

“Are you all right, Your Grace? Are you feeling well?” Maria was immediately concerned.

How could Violet even begin to explain? No, nothing was all right. Her entire world had been shifted upside down seemingly overnight.

“Nothing to worry about,” Violet lied though it hardly had any conviction. “That will be all.”

The maid looked as though she had more questions, but she refrained from probing further. “Your Grace, please don’t hesitate to call for me.”

As Maria left the room, Violet stood and walked to the window again. The driveway was empty now, and the Duke’s absence began to feel all the more real.

How could she stay here, in this house, and pretend that nothing had changed? How could she face the staff, the ton, and her brothers and maintain the facade that everything was as it should be?

The next few days passed by in what felt like a complete blur. Days melted together with nights, and Violet did not once step out of her chambers.

Frankly, she did not see any reason to. Nicholas had been gone for days now, and the house felt too large, too quiet without him. She hated herself for missing his presence, especially when she’d spent so much time convincing herself that his absence would be easier to endure.

One morning, Violet sat at her vanity, staring into her reflection but hardly seeing herself. The dark circles under her eyes were unmistakable, her skin was pale from lack of sunlight. She let out a long sigh, running her fingers through her untamed hair.

She could hardly recognize the person in front of her.

The knock at her door startled her from her thoughts.

“Your Grace?” came Mrs. Smith’s voice.

“Come in,” Violet said, trying to summon some semblance of composure. She smoothed her wrinkled gown though it did little to improve her appearance.

Mrs. Smith entered, her gaze sweeping over the room before settling on Violet.

“I apologize for disturbing you, Your Grace, but no one has seen you in the estate for the last few days now.” Mrs. Smith’s tone was tinged with worry, and a frown tugged at the corners of her mouth. “I thought it would be good to check up on you.”

“I’ve been… busy,” Violet offered weakly. She did not even have the energy to muster up a believable excuse.

Mrs. Smith arched a brow, but her tone remained measured. “Your Grace, a letter arrived for you this morning. I thought it best to deliver it personally.”

She held out the envelope, and Violet’s heart leapt at the sight.

Could it be from Nicholas? She’d had no contact with him since his departure.

She reached for it hastily and broke the seal. But the moment she saw the familiar handwriting, her anticipation fizzled into disappointment.

“It’s from my family,” Violet murmured, unable to mask her disappointment.

Mrs. Smith’s brow furrowed subtly, but she didn’t comment. “Is everything all right?”

“Yes, it’s nothing urgent,” Violet said quickly, skimming the contents. Her stomach sank further. “They’re coming to visit. Today. ”

“That’s wonderful news, Your Grace.”

“No, it’s not!” Violet stood abruptly. “Look at me. I look dreadful. I am in no state to entertain guests.”

Mrs. Smith’s gaze moved over her, assessing with a critical eye. “You’re being too harsh on yourself. But if it would make you feel better, I can arrange for your maids to help you prepare.”

Violet turned toward the mirror, staring at the reflection that had haunted her all morning. It wasn’t just her appearance; it was the weight she carried, the ache of Nicholas’s absence.

“I don’t have the energy for this,” Violet muttered, more to herself than anyone else. “We should cancel their visit.”

“Your Grace, your family will be happy to see you, no matter what. Besides, it might do you good to have some company.” Mrs. Smith paused, measuring her words carefully.

“It has not been lost on me that your self-exile to your room has coincided with the Duke’s departure.

While I do not wish to probe, I do believe that it is in your best interest to meet with people and step out of your room.

A duchess does not cease to be one even in her husband’s absence. ”

Violet sighed, glancing back at her expression again. Mrs. Smith was right. She had let herself go too much, and it was time to stop wallowing like this.

Mrs. Smith saw the change in her expression and continued, “I’ll inform the maids to prepare a bath and set out your finest gown. You’ll feel better once you’re ready.”

The idea alone sounded daunting, but Violet nodded. She had to start somewhere. Violet steeled herself as Mrs. Smith left the room. She couldn’t let her family see the cracks, no matter how deep they ran. For their sake—and her own—she had to be the Duchess they believed her to be.

“Your family has arrived, Your Grace,” Mrs. Smith informed Violet after she’d changed into fresh clothes and bathed. “Shall I tell them that you will come out and see them?”

“Please do,” Violet steeled herself.

She could not hide away forever.

Slowly, she willed herself to go downstairs. The familiar voices of her brothers carried through the corridor. Leopold was the first to appear, his smile widening as he took in the sight of her while Jasper followed close behind. Their mother, Arabella, trailed behind them.

All three looked delighted to see her.

“Violet, my dear!” Arabella exclaimed, moving forward to clasp her daughter’s hands. “It feels like it’s been ages since I last saw you.”

“I’ve missed you all,” Violet admitted. Mrs. Smith had been right—it was refreshing to see familiar faces after being in isolation for so long.

“We’ve missed you too,” Arabella said warmly, her eyes scanning Violet’s face more closely now. “Though… you look a bit tired, darling. Are you feeling all right?”

Violet stiffened slightly, her smile faltering. “I’m fine, Mother. It’s just been a busy week.”

Arabella’s gaze dropped to Violet’s hands which were clasped tightly in front of her. “Busy? Or could it be something else?”

“Something else?” Violet echoed though a sense of dread began creeping into her chest.

Arabella leaned in, lowering her voice conspiratorially. “Are you… with child, perhaps?”

Violet’s cheeks flushed instantly, her eyes widening. “Mother!” she exclaimed, her voice rising in embarrassment.

Leopold groaned audibly, stepping in to rescue his sister. “Really, Mother? Must you leap to that conclusion? Leave the poor girl alone. It has only been a few months since her marriage.”

Arabella chuckled softly, sounding unrepentant. “Well, it wouldn’t be so shocking. You may consider it wishful thinking.”