Page 54 of Dukes All Night Long

Confrontation

Violet

T he fire had burned low, little more than embers now.

Shadows stretched across the floor, long and flickering, wrapping the study in a kind of hush that felt too heavy to disturb.

Violet sorted the remaining documents in quiet concentration, her fingers brushing over pages filled with the late duke’s careful annotations.

Evan hadn’t spoken in several minutes. He simply paced, every turn a mirror of the thoughts twisting behind his eyes.

He stopped at the hearth, staring down at the Turkish rug. His voice broke the silence—rough, cracked. “They murdered him.”

She looked up, stilling her hands. “Yes.”

“They left a black rose on his desk. Threatened him in his own home. Then they sank the Meridian and killed everyone aboard.” He ran a hand through his hair, jaw clenched.

“Every instinct in me wants to act immediately—to see them exposed and punished. But I know rushing in could destroy everything my uncle uncovered. We can’t afford another mistake.

” He exhaled heavily, visibly reining himself in. “But just waiting… it’s intolerable.”

“We need to stay alive,” she said, gently but firmly. “And outmaneuver them while we still have the chance.”

His bitter laugh echoed too loudly in the stillness.

“Outmaneuver a society with eyes in Parliament? In trade? Likely even within the Crown itself?” He shook his head and slumped onto the edge of the desk, his frustration evident.

“I want them exposed, Violet. I want Norwood dragged out and tried for murder—every one of them held accountable.” He paused, visibly working to steady himself.

“But you’re right. We need more than suspicion. We need proof.”

“We don’t have the names yet. Not all of them. We don’t even have any direct proof against Norwood—just circumstantial evidence. You’re right. We don’t know how high it goes. Or who the Raven is.”

He turned toward her, something wounded in his gaze. “And until then, I’m just supposed to hand everything over to Sir Frederick and hope his methods work?”

Violet set down the final document, spine straightening.

“I’ve followed Frederick’s orders for three years—coded letters, clandestine meetings, quiet deaths that were never really explained.

This is the first time we’ve had solid evidence.

But yes, even now, these documents alone aren’t enough. There’s nothing definitive.”

Evan watched her, something unreadable in his expression. “That’s why you vanished. It wasn’t grief. You were recruited.”

She nodded slowly. “In a way, yes. Sir Frederick approached me around the time you left. He believed my husband’s death wasn’t the accident everyone claimed it to be—that The Black Rose Society was likely behind it, though he couldn’t prove it.

” Her voice remained steady, but her eyes revealed old pain.

“Sir Frederick saw something useful in me—a widow with no ties, a woman who could observe without drawing attention. And I needed something too. A way to fill the void. After everything fell apart… I needed purpose. Justice.”

“And now he wants you to infiltrate Sableport?”

Her throat tightened. “Yes.”

“It’s suicide.” He stepped closer. “They’ll stop at nothing.” Up close, the faint dueling scar along his jaw tightened, and his storm-gray eyes flashed like struck flint.

“I know.” She didn’t look away. “But I’m convinced Peter’s death wasn’t a hunting accident. That was The Black Rose Society. He deserves retribution.”

His jaw tensed. “What if I asked you not to do it?”

“Would you do that?”

“Ask, yes.” He swallowed hard. “But I won’t demand it. I just—I can’t lose you. Not after finding you again.”

That admission pierced something soft and buried in her. “Then tell me what you’re thinking.”

“That I become exactly what they already think I am. The new duke—young, reckless, more concerned with cards and brandy than responsibility. They’ll underestimate me.

” He paused, determination solidifying. “I should never have been Duke of Westbridge—that honor was meant for my cousin—but the title is the only key I possess. It puts me on the Sableport board, gives me eyes on their ledgers, and a voice they must pretend to heed. If the name is all I have to fight with, then I’ll wield it.

I’ll turn their contempt into my camouflage—and use it to bring them down. ”

Her pulse quickened. “You want to infiltrate from within.”

“Yes,” he said carefully. “With your guidance, I can attend the board meetings, ask subtle questions, earn their trust—slowly and carefully. I won’t let emotion push me into making the wrong move again. And when we have what we need—”

“—then we strike,” she finished.

“You’ll need to coach me,” he added. “No more slips like I made at Hamlin House. I can’t afford another mistake. If they suspect me—”

Her voice dropped. “I couldn’t bear to lose you.”

He reached for her hand, lacing his fingers with hers. “Then we do this together. We keep Sir Frederick informed but keep control. If his methods haven’t found the Raven, maybe ours will.”

“You’re asking me to defy the man who gave me purpose,” she said softly.

“I’m asking you to find a path that doesn’t demand you sacrifice yourself. You’ve already given enough.”

She looked at him for a long moment, then gave a single nod. “Then we’re agreed.”

The mantel clock chimed two. Outside, London slept beneath its veil of winter silence. But inside, they stood on the edge of something far more dangerous.

“I should go,” she said, though she made no move toward the door. “Sir Frederick will expect a report.”

Evan’s reply was barely a whisper. “And what will you tell him?”

“That we found the documents. That the new Duke of Westbridge is an asset, not a hindrance.” Her mouth softened. “And nothing about… us.”

“Some things,” he agreed, “don’t belong in reports.”

But the words came thick, his hand still wrapped around hers as if neither of them quite believed in leaving.

Violet’s gaze flicked to the corridor—toward duty—and back to him. In that fraction of hesitation, Evan crossed the small distance between them. One heartbeat later she was in his arms, portfolio forgotten on the desk, the crackling embers their only witness.

She didn’t pull away.

“I can’t let you walk out into the night alone,” he breathed against her hair.

“Then don’t,” she answered, her words filled with relief and promise.

His grip tightened. Outside, London slumbered beneath its hush of winter. Inside, two hearts stood at the threshold of danger—clinging to the one safe harbor they still possessed.

He wrapped her in a fierce embrace, and being there felt like home.