Page 9

“Nicholas, then.” She straightened her back. The word felt so foreign in her throat. Stripped bare, no pretension between them.

“Good. Violet,” he reciprocated though his tone was much more clipped. “So let me remind you, this marriage is only on paper. You’re free to live your life as you please, so long as you fulfill your duties as duchess. That is all I expect of you. Nothing more.”

The finality in his tone told her that there was likely no room for her to argue. Not that she would want to argue in the first place. This was what she wanted, was it not?

“Yes, I see.”

“Lovely. Look at us, getting along already,” he replied, his tone oozing with sarcasm. And then without warning, he leaned over her shoulder and opened the door for her. “I believe that Mrs. Smith will be waiting for you to show you to your chambers.”

“I… yes.”

Violet left his study, red in the face and spluttering on her words. What was that all about? It irked her to no end that she turned into this person in his presence, and he always walked away unfazed.

She hated to admit it—loathed it, truly—but his proximity had done something to her, something she couldn’t quite name.

Now, out in the hallway, she stood trying to collect her thoughts.

It was going to be a lot more complicated being the Duchess of Bernight than she’d thought.

My wife should be the last woman to fall for my charms.

His words replayed in her mind, sharp and final. What had he meant by that? She did not know and nearly hated herself for being so curious. What pleasure did he get from speaking in riddles like this? Was their situation not complicated enough?

“Your Grace.”

The soft voice startled her, and she turned quickly to find an elderly woman with a white apron strapped to the front of her dress waiting for her at the end of the hall. Her hands were folded neatly in front of her.

“I am Mrs. Smith, the housekeeper here.”

“Oh, yes. Right.” Violet prayed that she did not notice the lingering blush on her cheeks.

“Is everything…all right, Your Grace?” Mrs. Smith asked, her tone gentle but probing.

“I’m fine,” she said quickly, “Just… no, all is well.”

Mrs. Smith nodded, her expression understanding. If she was curious to know more, she did not push, a fact Violet felt infinitely grateful for.

“It’s quite natural to feel overwhelmed on your first night here. Shall I escort you to your chambers?”

“Yes, please,” Violet replied, grateful for the opportunity to escape the spot where Nicholas had so thoroughly unbalanced her.

When they reached her chambers, Mrs. Smith opened the heavy oak door, revealing a spacious room bathed in the warm glow of a crackling fire.

The furnishings were elegant but understated—an ornate four-poster bed, a vanity adorned with delicate carvings, and a comfortable seating area by the hearth.

It was beautiful, but it didn’t feel like it was hers.

“I’ve taken the liberty of having the maids unpack your belongings,” Mrs. Smith said, gesturing to the wardrobe. “If there’s anything else you require, please don’t hesitate to ask.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Smith,” Violet said, offering the housekeeper a small smile. “I’ll be fine.”

The older woman hesitated for a moment before nodding. “Good night, Your Grace.”

As the door clicked shut behind her, Violet let out a long breath and sank into the armchair by the fire.

This was it. Her new home. As Violet looked around the room, she knew that it was going to take more than a while to get used to it all.

Of course, if this was a typical union, then she would have been sharing a chamber with her husband. But Violet was not so fortunate. She tried not to dwell on it much, going over to sit by the edge of her bed.

Why does he have to be so infuriating? she thought. If he had a better personality, perhaps it would not have been so terrible. After all, he is…

She groaned, unable to finish the thought. There was no denying that Nicholas was handsome. But that only made him more dangerous. He was just like all men like him—charming, arrogant, and far too aware of their own appeal. She did not want to contribute to feeding his ego.

Maddening. That is all that he is. And yet, she was to spend a life with him.

She straightened her back, determination hardening her resolve. She wouldn’t let him get under her skin. This was a marriage of convenience, nothing more. She would fulfill her duties as duchess, but she would keep her distance. Just as he had demanded.

There was no room for mistakes here. She must never let him grow close to her

Never enter her room. Never approach her without warning. Never touch her.

Nicholas had opted to stay back in his study.

It was a place where he often sought refuge when the weight of his title or his own thoughts became too much to bear.

He scarcely allowed anyone inside it, either.

In fact, he could not remember the last time that someone apart from house staff or himself entered it.

Well, except just a few moments ago when it was infiltrated by a rather demanding Duchess.

“She has quite the gall, I’ll give her that,” he muttered to himself and poured himself a drink.

It was not usual for women to be so forthcoming, especially in an arrangement like theirs. Yet, she had so easily put forth a list of demands in front of him.

He downed his drink in one long swallow, the burn in his throat a welcome distraction from the tangled mess of his emotions.

Nicholas hated to reminisce, but here, now, he couldn’t get Violet’s face out of his mind—the way her cheeks had flushed with irritation, the way her lips had trembled with indignation as she laid out her rules.

It was… adorable but equally irksome. Perhaps her little list of demands had invoked the opposite outcome from him. She suddenly appeared to him as this forbidden fruit. In reach but impossible to touch.

The irony wasn’t lost on him. Here he was, a man who had spent years avoiding entanglements, now married to a woman who seemed determined to keep him at arm’s length.

It should have been ideal. She wanted nothing from him but distance, and he had thought that he would be more than willing to oblige.

And yet…

He set the empty glass down with more force than necessary, the sharp clink breaking the silence.

What was it about her anyway?

She was timid, shy, and utterly unremarkable in the ways that usually caught his attention.

Plain by the standard definition of the word.

But somehow, it felt like a disservice to call her that.

No, there was something beneath her quiet demeanor—a spark that came out occasionally, a part of her that she kept hidden. It intrigued him, despite himself.

“A vampire, huh?” he muttered to himself, a smile threatening to form at the corner of his lips.

I would never fall for someone as shallow as you.

That had… stung. It had hit far closer to the mark than he cared to admit. Shallow. It would not be the first time he was accused of such a thing. Many women before her had hurled the same word at him when things had inevitably not worked out.

Yet, it hit different when it was his wife saying that to him.

“It does not matter. This marriage is only on paper,” he reminded himself.

He let out a harsh breath, running a hand through his dark hair. This marriage was nothing more than an arrangement, a means to an end. He didn’t need her approval or her admiration. All he needed was for her to play her part as he would play his.

All they needed to do was stick to the given plan and all would be fine.