Page 48 of A Wicked Duke's Redemption
“I did concede that there were some,” Leo said.
“You two are delightful together,” Lady Priscilla said, her lips twitching into a fond smile. “You seem very happy together, very sweet and loving.”
It was a very direct statement, and Leo found heat rising to his face. A strange sense of embarrassment overcame him. It was not the idea that he might love Violet that left him feeling unsteady. She was a lovable woman with many virtues. It was only that having someone observe his growing affection for Violet was an odd feeling, not unwelcome precisely.
It was strange, though. Somehow, Lady Priscilla’s statement seemed to make everythingmore real. She cast the world into a new clarity, and Leo felt unsteady in that.
“Leo makes me very happy,” Violet said, her cheeks blooming a gentle pink.
“I am glad for both of you,” Lady Priscilla said.
“Thank you,” Violet said.
Leo nodded in agreement, unsure what else to add. He felt a quiet, calm sort of happiness within himself. His dearest friend and his lovely wife doted on one another. It was moments like these when he found himself wanting to be a better man, when the desire to be something more than all the misguided villagers thought him to be rose so strongly inside him that he thought he might burst from it.
The ducal carriage slowed, and Lady Priscilla gave them an apologetic smile. “Governor Square,” she said. “This is where I will take my leave, then. Feel free to call on me at any time. It is only a ten minutes’ ride between my family’s townhouse and yours, after all.”
“Thank you,” Violet said. “I know so few people in London, and your presence makes everything seem much more inviting.”
Lady Priscilla inclined her head.
“Have a good evening,” Leo said as the carriage door opened.
“Likewise,” Lady Priscilla said.
She left the carriage, the door closing behind her with a faint thud. Leo was left alone with his wife, and his heart hammered against his ribs. A ten minutes’ ride was enough time for himself and his duchess to engage in some rather delightful activities.
He could not help but glance at Violet, whose slender form was hidden beneath heavy layers of fabric. It was winter at last and bitterly cold. Still, he longed to cast aside her fur-lined cape and undo the buttons of her coat.
It was too soon for him to suggest such a rakish idea. They had only recently consummated their marriage, and although the affair had been pleasant on the whole, Violet had given no indication that she wished to make love again so soon, especially on the seats of a carriage.
Violet shifted on the seat so she could peer outside the window. “There are so many people here. I knew there would be, but London still seems impossibly large to me!”
“Yes,” Leo said.
His eyes traced the delicate curve of Violet’s neck, which weeks before, he had decorated with kisses. Leo swallowed hard. His trousers felt too tight, and although it was cold, the carriage felt suddenly stifling. Violet had not the faintest idea what impression she left on men.
She turned to him, then. Her eyes were wide with wonder and her face flushed with happiness. “Thank you,” she said, “for bringing me to London.”
“Of course.”
She leaned across the space and placed a gentle, tentative kiss on his cheek. Leo’s muscles grew taut. He did not know how much time had passed, but in his estimation, it was not enough to fulfill his desires. Not to hisandViolet’s satisfaction, at least. He let out a steadying breath of air and forced a smile. She did not seem to notice.
“Anything to make you happy,” he said.
Perhaps, after they reached the townhouse and had rested from their travels, he would find the opportunity to propose another amorous meeting between them. Leo shivered at the thought. He had not been to the London townhouse in a long time, but he did remember the place having an abundance of wonderful places to bed one’s wife. It only depended on how adventurous he might coax Violet into being.
Chapter 23
Two days after arriving in London, Mrs. Gunderson and Emma arrived. The weeks which followed were so filled with shopping and social obligations that Violet soon lost count of the days.
She was invited to balls and soirees, plays and operas, and there were so many lords and ladies that Violet struggled to remember all of their names and titles. Leo remained by her side, murmuring encouragement and reminding her when she forgot names or erred in some small point of etiquette.
The invitations seemed endless, and yet Violet saw the tight smiles and disapproving glances from the ton. She heard the whispers, which ceased as she drew near. There were rumors—not only about Leo, but also about her. She was too poor to be a duchess.
Her breeding was not sufficient to hold such a high position. The gossip was like a cloud, an atmosphere which followed Leo and Violet through the grand ballrooms and beautiful drawing rooms.
Most of the time, Violet bore all the comments with grace and dignity, but today was regrettably not one of those days. She sat alone in a cold, unfeeling conservatory. Beyond the doors, Lady Fletcher’s ball continued, heedless of Violet’s absence. Violet buried her face in her hands, eyes burning with barely restrained tears. “Violet?” Lady Priscilla’s soft voice drifted through the air, brimming with concern. “Are you all right?”
