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“ L et go of me.”

Violet thrashed wildly against the strange grip that had just been placed upon her. She screamed as loud as she could, using all her might to push back against his intruder. But before she could bellow out another shriek, the same hands clamped against her mouth.

“What the devil—!” the voice barked, and Violet bit him. He retracted his hand with a yelp. “Can you stop? I am not here to cause you harm.”

The voice was equal parts irritated and confused. Now that she had some distance, Violet began to make out the face under the dim moonlight. Her breath caught as she recognized him. “Your Grace?”

The Duke of Bernight stood before her, his tall frame rigid with indignation. His hand, the very one she had just bitten, was cradled against his chest. A deep scowl marred his otherwise striking features.

It was that moment that Violet realized that her day had quickly gotten even worse. Not only had she just been rejected by Lord Kembert, but she had just bitten a duke. She straightened her back, fingers hastening to slick back the stray hair on her face.

“I… my apologies, Your Grace. I did not mean to…” She scrambled for the right words.

“Bite me?” He narrowed his eyes, still holding onto his injured hand. “What might your name be? Clearly you are not the one I came here looking for.”

Violet felt her cheeks warm. Of course. With his reputation, it was not a surprise that he must have snuck into the garden to meet some paramour of his. “Lady Violet. And I would not have bitten you if you did not grab me in the dark.”

It irked her that he made it seem like it was entirely her fault.

The Duke took a step back and looked at her properly for the first time. “Might I ask what a lady like yourself is doing out here all alone? If that is not an invitation for trouble, then I do not know what is.”

“I was…” Violet scrambled to explain herself, her fists tightening at her sides. “I came here to get some air. That is allowed, is it not? Or is the garden only reserved for your… assignations ?”

It was quite unlike her to speak in such a rude manner, especially to a duke, but Violet was not really feeling much like herself. She was flustered by the way he had come so close to her—closer than any other man had in her entire life.

The Duke brought one of his hands to rub the side of his face, and she immediately found herself recalling how warm they had felt around her waist. How big they were in comparison to her little waist and how they could easily wrap around her.

What? Violet had never had thoughts like this before. The Duke, however, seemed oblivious to whatever crisis she had unfolding inside of her.

“My assignations?” The corners of the Duke’s mouth curved into an amused smile.

Violet knew better than to accuse a duke like this, but the words had slipped out of her mouth before she could stop them.

“I have to say, Lady Violet, you have quite the mouth on you. First you bite me then you make assumptions about my character.”

Are they assumptions when they are subject of every gossip weekly? “I did not mean to bite you,” she said instead.

“Good. Please ponder as well about traversing in the gardens at this hour next time the thought appears to you.” His face grew stormier. “An unwise decision. You’re fortunate it was me and not someone with less honorable intentions.”

“Honorable?” Violet scoffed, barely able to believe her own ears. “Your Grace… you just accosted me and called me a rabbit. It appears that we both view the situation quite differently.”

The Duke’s jaw tightened, and for a moment, Violet thought she saw the corner of his mouth twitch—though whether in amusement or irritation, she couldn’t tell.

“You should be thanking me for pointing out the danger of your situation,” he said, his voice heavy with condescension. “Instead, you choose to berate me.”

“I am not berating you, Your Grace. I could never do such a thing.” Violet folded her arms, her chin lifting defiantly. “You barged into my solitude, scared me half to death, and now presume to lecture me? All I did was point out what happened.”

“You make it seem as though I barged into your private chambers.” He rolled his eyes, and she blushed wildly at the suggestion. “I only came here to the garden.”

“Then you should have been more careful before assuming that I was someone else,” she argued back.

“Why are you insistent on proving that finding you here is my fault alone?” he said. Violet wondered if she was going too far with defending herself, but then again, she had more to lose than he did.

She had every right to defend herself— even if the Duke was not used to meeting people who spoke back to him like this.

“It is your fault,” he shrugged, making it seem as though it was the most obvious thing. “Do you like to shirk responsibility or are you someone who only sees their version of reality?”

The audacity. How could he already assume such things about her when he had only met her only mere moments ago?

“And your opinion on the matter is fact?” she said, bitterly.

“Usually, I would say so, yes,” he said, smirking now.

Perfect. Of all the people that could have run into her in the garden tonight, it had to be a duke whose arrogance preceded him.

“Then, I must tell you that you are in the wrong here. And if there were any witnesses to the act, then they would agree with me.”

“For your sake, Lady Violet, let’s hope there weren’t any witnesses,” he muttered dryly.

Violet knew that he had a point, but he had riled her up so that she could not help herself and bickered back.

“And for yours! ” Was she right? Likely not. A man’s reputation—especially one who possessed a title—was difficult to spoil. Society had a knack for overlooking the flaws in men.

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as if she were a particularly bothersome child. “You should not be wandering out here alone. When you accept that as your mistake, perhaps you will see who is in the wrong here.”

Violet knew better than to argue with a duke. And yet here she was, doing exactly that. If she had not been so frazzled from her earlier interaction with Lord Kembert, perhaps she would have had more control of what she was saying.

“Is that clear, Lady Violet ?” The Duke moved closed to her. It occurred to her then just how much taller he was than her—he must have been more than six feet as he easily towered over her small frame.

Except instead of feeling intimidated, she found herself gravitating towards him. She could not explain why of course. Their gazes locked together, and just for a moment, she felt a pang of something in her chest and her heart began to race with nervousness.

But their little moment—if you could call it that—was short lived. Before either could do anything about it, the sound of approaching voices reached their ears. Both froze, their gazes snapping toward the path leading back to the ballroom.

“ Oh no, ” they both spoke in unison, exchanging a final look of panic. But not much more could be done, for the voices were close enough for their owners to see them—together. A maiden with a duke. Alone in the garden.

“Is that… Someone is there… Your Grace? ” The onlooker’s voice turned from curious to gleeful, as though they had just discovered an exciting thing. Gossip was what the members of ton thrived on. It was their most beloved source of entertainment. “Lady Violet?”

A group of people were soon to follow, and then there was no more hiding. Violet knew that she had landed herself in big trouble. Whispers began to fill the air, horrified glances shot in not the Duke’s direction but hers.

For she was the one who stood to lose the most from this scandal. Society was often too forgiving for the sins of a man. But women—especially young unmarried ones—were rarely awarded the same grace.

“I…” Violet said, blushing. “I must go find my brothers.”

Without looking back, she sped away back to the inside of the mansion. It would not take long for the gossip to travel. Her otherwise spotless reputation would be forever tarnished. What have I just done?

Arabella Kingsman paced the floor at Nightingale Manor.

Her three children had arrived back only a few hours ago.

Jasper had been the one to break the news to their mother.

He only knew himself because Violet had tearfully confided in him on the way back home.

Arabella had not said anything to her daughter yet directly—Violet had only heard a faint shriek coming from downstairs, and then she had been summoned to where she was seated now with the rest of her siblings.

“Mother, can you please stop pacing like this?” Violet said, unable to take it anymore. The silence was almost as agonizing as any scolding that she ought to receive. “You have not said a word.”

“What is there to say, Violet?” Arabella finally stopped her pacing. “A scandal of this magnitude—how will you ever recover? How could you let this happen?”

Violet felt her stomach drop. She was the youngest born and rarely the subject of her mothers’ ire like this.

A flush of humiliation on her cheeks betrayed her otherwise calm expression. “I didn’t let anything happen, Mother,” she said defensively. “It was an unfortunate misunderstanding.”

“Violet, you were caught alone in the garden with the Duke of Bernight. I would not call that a misunderstanding but an act of extreme recklessness,” Jasper said, disappointed.

Violet’s eyes narrowed, and she opened her mouth to retort, but before she could, Leopold spoke up from where he lounged against the doorframe, a smug grin tugging at his lips.

“Well, I must say, Violet,” he drawled, “I’m impressed.

All this time, I thought you had your sights set on that dreary Lord Kembert, but no—clever girl.

You went straight for a duke. A much wiser choice, truly. You have Kingsman blood after all.”