Page 32 of Between a Duke and a Hard Place (The Honeywells #1)
S even months had passed since the turmoil that had once threatened to upend their lives, and now, under the gentle warmth of a late spring afternoon, Violet and Max strolled through the lush grounds of Alstead Manor. Violet, very heavily pregnant, was simply thankful she could still walk as she could no longer see her feet. Her condition had become the subject of much gentle ribbing; her belly so pronounced that the local gossips wondered if she might be carrying twins, or if the child had been conceived somewhat before their swift nuptials. She didn’t care. Let them gossip. She was too happy to mind.
“Do we really need to add another wing to the house, Max?”
“Well, Violet, you are the one who is insisting on presenting me with triplets?—”
She smacked his arm. “Other people can comment on my size but you are supposed to tell me that I am beautiful and radiant and still, despite my current lumbering, a vision of grace!”
He laughed softly, but then leaned into kiss her soundly. Drawing back, he said with perfect sincerity. “You are beautiful and you are radiant. You have, however, never been a vision of grace. Hoydenism, yes, but never grace.”
Violet, nonplussed, simply skewered him with a flat look. It was an annoying assessment, even if it was a truthful one.
As they walked near the house, enjoying the peacefulness of their estate, a cloud of dust on the road caught their attention. A carriage, small and open to the spring air, was making its way up the drive. Violet shielded her eyes with a hand, peering curiously at the approaching figure.
As the carriage drew nearer, her heart began to beat faster, a mixture of hope and disbelief taking hold. The figure in the carriage, so familiar to her, became more clear the closer it drew to them. When there was no longer any mistaking the identity of the occupant, a wave of elation washed over her. It was James, her brother, very much alive and returning from the Continent.
"Max, look!" Violet exclaimed, her voice trembling with excitement. "It's James! He’s returned!"
Max squinted against the sunlight, and as recognition dawned, a broad smile spread across his face. He squeezed Violet’s hand, sharing in her joy. The carriage rolled to a stop in front of them, and James, looking weary but overjoyed, stepped down.
"Violet! Max!" James called out, his arms open wide as he moved toward them. Violet hurried as best she could into her brother’s embrace, tears of happiness spilling freely down her cheeks.
"I thought I’d never see you again," she whispered, holding him tightly.
James laughed, a sound full of relief and happiness. "It takes more than a war to keep me from coming home to you, little sister."
As they stepped back, James’s gaze fell on Violet’s pronounced belly, and he raised an eyebrow playfully. "I see a lot has happened since I’ve been gone. And that lot had better have included a wedding.”
Violet blushed and nodded, leaning back into Max’s supportive embrace. "Yes, quite a lot, wedding included! We’ll have more than a few stories to share."
The reunion was filled with laughter and joyful tears as they headed back to the house, James eager to hear about everything he had missed. Max and Violet, united and strong, shared a look of contentment. The past was behind them, and the future—a future with their growing family and Violet’s brother safe and sound—seemed brighter than ever.
As they walked, Violet felt a profound sense of completeness. The troubles that had once seemed insurmountable were now just part of their story—a story of love, resilience, and the unbreakable bonds of family. Now, with James returned, their family felt whole again, and the gardens of Alstead Manor, once a backdrop to their strife, promised to bloom with new life and new beginnings.
The night had settled over Alstead Manor with a serene stillness, broken only by the soft sounds of nature and the distant laughter and chatter that had earlier filled the dining room. Now, as the household servants retired and with Violet having long since sought her bed courtesy of the fatigue of her condition, Max and James found themselves on the terrace. Each with a brandy in hand and a cheroot emitting thin wisps of smoke into the cool night air, it felt as if no time at all had passed since they’d last done so.
The stars twinkled above, casting a gentle light over the two men as they stood in contemplative silence. Max noticed the tension in James’s posture, the way he held his brandy a little too tightly, and the occasional deep sighs that escaped him.
"You seem troubled, my friend," Max ventured, his tone gentle yet probing. "Anything you care to share?"
James let out a short, bitter laugh, his gaze fixed on the dark horizon. "Only the usual plague that afflicts all men at some point—the inscrutable, infuriating, utterly confusing, and all too often insufferable species that is women," he said, the lightness of his words belying the undercurrent of genuine distress.
“I can only presume you do not mean Violet.”
James arched a brow in an expression that mirrored Violet’s so well it was uncanny. “Sisters do not qualify as females. They’re just sisters… No this is in relation to more romantic dealings with the fairer sex.”
Max took a slow sip of his brandy, letting the silence stretch for a moment as he considered his friend’s words. He knew James well enough to understand that if a woman had driven him to such a state of agitation, she was far more significant to him than anyone temporary. Yet, sensing James’s reluctance to delve deeper, Max chose a path of camaraderie over inquiry.
"To women, then," Max raised his glass, a small smile playing on his lips. "May they offer us happiness in equal measure to the complications they bring."
James chuckled, the sound more genuine this time, and clinked his glass against Max’s. "To women," he echoed, his mood visibly lightened by the shared sentiment and the comfort of an old friendship that asked no questions when silence was needed.
They stood for a while longer, each lost in his thoughts, the glow from their cheroots flaring and fading with each inhale. The night wrapped around them like a cloak, a protective barrier that held the weight of the day at bay.
As they eventually made their way back inside, the warmth of the manor encircled them. Their troubles, or most of them, were over. All the people he cared about were, for the moment, at least, under one roof. When Violet awakened in the morning, Max intended to tell her that James, based on his degree of irritation, had finally met his match. James was his friend, but Violet was his wife. There were no secrets between them. And, if he told Violet, she’d get the truth out of James whether he liked it or not.
Grinning, Max parted company from his friend and went to seek his bed, and his wife who would undoubtedly be in it.
LOOK FOR JAMES’ STORY LATER THIS YEAR.