Page 83 of The Duke's Inconvenient Bride
Emma didn’t reply, because really, what was there to say?
“Do you intend to stay long?” she asked.
“Perhaps a couple of days,” Violet said. “It would be lovely to have a break from travel.”
“Of course.” However she might feel about them at the moment, Emma would never turn her family away. “Would you like a tour of the house? I’m sure you need to stretch your legs after being cooped up for so long.”
“That would be delightful,” Violet said. “I’d love to see more of Ashford Hall.”
Emma rang for Mrs. Travers and asked her to prepare a room for the Mayhews and to inform the duke of their arrival, then she led her guests through the lower level of the house. Violet’s eyes were the size of saucers as they entered the ballroom. Emma didn’t blame her. It was finer than any London ballroom she’d ever seen.
“And to think, I could have been the mistress of all of this,” Violet mused. Beside her, Mr. Mayhew stiffened. She turned toward him, wearing a mischievous smile. “Never fear, darling. I’d rather have you than a gilded life.”
Mr. Mayhew visibly melted. “You have a poet’s soul, my lady.”
Emma bit her lip to prevent herself from asking how this was the same sister who’d insisted not more than two months ago that she’d be happy with a title and plenty of wealth. Had Violet been hiding a romantic streak all that time, or had she allowed herself to be carried away by passion?
Having experienced passion for herself, Emma could understand that, but she still struggled to reconcile the devoted wife in front of her to the mercenary debutante she’d once been.
That said, the thoughtlessness of making comments such as how she could have chosen Emma’s current life for herself proved that her sister was still the same person in many regards. It had probably never occurred to her that in doing so, she’d reminded Emma that she was only Vaughan’s second choice of bride.
“Let’s explore upstairs,” Emma said, unwilling to watch them make calf eyes at each other. She led the way, maintaining the briskest pace she could without hurting her ankle further. She didn’t want to encourage conversation or any romantic dallying in the mansion’s many nooks.
She tried not to think about how Vaughan would react to Violet’s presence. Would seeing her make him regret his marriage? After all, it wasn’t Emma he’d originally wanted.
Once they’d finished their tour, Emma showed Mr. Mayhew out the back door so he could explore the grounds. Meanwhile, she and Violet retired to the drawing room. She requested tea from Mrs. Travers but not cakes because she knew Violet would have something to say if she learned how often Emma chose to indulge her sweet tooth.
Emma poured tea for Violet and then herself, adding sugar to her own and refusing to look at Violet while she did so. She only raised her eyes once she was stirring the tea and the window for her sister to make a comment had mostly passed.
Violet relaxed on the chaise, blowing on the surface of her drink, her lips curved contentedly. She’d stopped surveying their surroundings, which hopefully meant she wouldn’t make any further comments about how Ashford Hall—and Vaughan—could have been hers.
“You didn’t sound like yourself in your letter,” Violet said. “I wanted to look in on you.”
Emma averted her eyes as guilt lanced through her. Here she’d been thinking uncharitable thoughts, and meanwhile Violet was only here because she was worried about Emma.
Her chest tightened. Why did she always revert to imagining the worst possible scenarios when it came to her sister?
“That was kind of you,” Emma said, meaning it. “Honestly, I’m still coming to terms with the situation.”
Violet frowned. “You mean your marriage to the duke?”
“Yes. It hasn’t been the easiest transition, although I shouldn’t complain. Ashford and his staff have made every effort to accommodate me.”
Her frown deepened. “Why are you finding it difficult? I always thought once you found your love, everything would fall into place.”
Emma chewed her tongue, wondering how much to say. Then again, nothing she said would be a surprise to anyone other than Violet.
“I don’t love him.” She sipped her tea, grateful for the hint of sweetness to fortify her. “I think I could, in time. But that’s not why I married him.”
“Then why did you?” Violet looked confused. “You were always so adamant that you would marry for love.”
Emma looked at her steadily, waiting for realization to dawn on her.
“Because of our broken engagement?” Violet’s confusion didn’t lift. “But why? He’s a duke. Nobody would have held it against him.”
“But they held it against us,” Emma said. “The ton turned on us. Mother feared we might be cast out entirely.”
“So, then what?” Violet asked. “Mother suggested you marry the duke in my place, as if we are interchangeable?”
