It was a kind offer, but in the face of this earth-shattering choice, it seemed very hollow, indeed. If His Grace was a monster, Violet suspected she would find herself trapped in that lonely estate, doomed to a cold and lonely marriage.
Chapter 13
Two weeks passed, and the wedding was arranged. Even though Leo had proposed the marriage and knew exactly what would happen if Violet accepted his offer, the arrival of the wedding itself still seemed to come absurdly quickly to him. The ceremony was probably the sparsest an aristocrat had ever had.
Violet arrived in the dress she had worn at the Harvest Dance, and Leo, who stood beside Oxeburgh’s pastor, drew in a sharp breath of air. He trembled at the sight of her, and his senses all felt sensitive and focused only upon the young woman. Their kiss burned like a branding in his memory.
He did his best to ignore the tightness in his trousers and the desire that swept over him like a river over a rock-bed. Violet kept her gaze lowered as she approached him. He drew in a breath of air, forcing himself to remain steady. “Good morning,” he said.
“Good morning.”
She did not meet his eyes. Leo stared at her, as if he could will her too, but she did not move her gaze from the carpet beneath her slippers, just peeking from beneath the hem of her gown. Leo looked instead at her father, his face revealing nothing. Violet’s mother was absent, likely too ill to come to the ceremony.
Leo fixed his attention once again on his bride-to-be. Even though she would not spare him a glance, he saw too easily the sadness on her face. She did not wish to marry him, or at least, she was not enthusiastic about the prospect. This was an obligation, a duty to her parents and their future.
“Shall we begin?” the pastor asked.
“If the lady is prepared,” Leo said.
He was offering her a chance to refuse his proposal and to return to her familiar life with her parents who loved her. “No, I am ready.” Violet’s voice trembled, but beneath her hesitation, Leo heard the merest hint of steel. “I am ready to begin when His Grace is.”
At the pastor’s glance, Leo nodded sharply. As the wedding vows were said, Leo fixed his attention solely on his new bride. She did not look at him once. A chill rushed over him, sinking all the way down to his bones. Leo had hoped she might recognize him, that the sound of his voice or his appearance might remind her of that night. Instead, she looked as if her world were shattering to pieces before her.
He had already agreed to wed her and laid out the terms. Refusing her now would doubtlessly upset her; there would be no dowry for her and no means of securing her parents’ happiness. Leo could not imagine taking this poor, distraught woman to his bedroom, though. Perhaps she was afraid of him.
“I do,” Violet murmured, confirming her agreement to the marriage.
It must be that she believed the rumors about him. She was a wonderful woman, but she was only human. Violet believed the rumors like all the others, and Leo felt a numb dismay with that realization. He had thought too highly of her.
Once the ceremony concluded, Leo took her hand and led her to the waiting coach. He had sent McCarthy to Violet, asking if she wanted a celebration to accompany the wedding, but she had declined.
Leo supposed that it was poor form for him to be so dissatisfied. This was meant to be a mutually beneficial arrangement, not unlike a business transaction. Still, the lady was unhappy with him, and that caused a tightness in his chest.
He felt suddenly uncomfortable, as if he had done something treacherous. Now, the rumors would be worse. Violet’s father and friend would tell everyone in Oxeburgh how unhappy she was.
Even as the coach jolted into motion, Violet still did not look at him. She appeared suddenly fascinated with the countryside, which she had doubtlessly seen hundreds of times before. Leo sighed. She looked at him then and drew in a sharp, audible breath. Her eyes widened with something like astonishment, and Leo eyed her curiously. “Are you surprised to realize I do not look like a monster?” he asked dryly.
Do you recognize me from the Harvest Dance?
Color rose to Violet’s cheeks, spreading across her cheeks like rose petals dropped into a bucket of fresh cream. She averted her violet eyes again and said nothing. The flush slowly spread to her neck.
She had probably not recognized him. Otherwise, she would have probably said something. That was, unlessshedid not wanthimto know who she was. Leo tilted his head back, letting it rest against the cushions. He must be patient with her. It was understandable for a young woman to be afraid, particularly given the circumstances.
The coach came to a halt. He and Violet quickly left the coach, and he offered his arm to her, leading her to the manor’s entrance. She gazed about her, eyes darting over the trees and flowers of his vast gardens before landing on the marble stairs which they were to ascend.
Seeing his arrival, the grand doors opened, and Leo could see that the staff waited inside, prepared to greet his new duchess and himself. “I have some obligations which I must attend to this evening,” Leo said. “I shall regrettably be occupied until very late into the night.”
Violet nodded. Leo noted that her hand trembled a little at the crook of his arm. “I see. Of course, Your Grace.”
He did not quite like the thought of his own wife calling himYour Grace, but it seemed like the worst time to mention that. Leo felt frustration rising within him. He knew he had only himself to blame for expecting a different outcome to his proposal of marriage to Violet, but having her clearly so hesitant around him, so differential and frightened, was…
It stirred unpleasant feelings within him. He felt foolish for hoping for something better but also vexed that this was not the almost-happy marriage he hoped to have.
“I do not imagine I shall see you until morning,” he added.
He truly would be a monster if he insisted on consummating the marriage with this woman. She nodded. “I—I see.”
“Yes,” Leo replied.
