Page 19 of A Wicked Duke's Redemption
She curtsied. “At once, Your Grace.”
Leo quickly ascended the stairs, his mind reflecting on everything he knew about Violet Brewer. She was better than he had initially thought. Rather than being an ordinary village girl, she was an impoverished aristocrat. Leo would be able to justify a marriage to her more readily than a common woman.
It was also likely that Violet, having come from an affluent background, would be eager to regain that former status. Leo’s money could also provide her with proper care for Violet’s mother and for repairs to the old hunting lodge.
Violet could gain much from a marriage to him, and he would have a bride who could give him heirs and whom he would not mind conversing with or introducing to the ton on the rare occasions when they ventured out to Essex. The thought of having her in his bed as his wedded wife was a pleasant one, although he would want to be certain that shewantedto bed him.
He bounded into his study and seated himself behind his desk. This could work. Leo would simply ensure that the arrangement was detailed properly with all the conditions laid out. He would need to have John McCarthy, his solicitor, come from London and oversee the writing of the contract. To deliver it, too.
“Your Grace,” said Mrs. Gunderson, as she entered.
“Mrs. Gunderson,” Leo said. “Thank you for arriving so quickly. I have excellent news to share with you.”
“Oh?”
“Close the door.”
Mrs. Gunderson did, and Leo lowered himself into his chair. “I will confess that I was originally hesitant to finding another duchess, and I still have some reservations.”
He felt like he was replacing Lydia. It felt like he was betraying her, and worse, Leo found that he could not quite make himself care about that as he ought to. How soon could a man conceivably recover from his wife’s death? Time was strange after Lydia died. Sometimes, it seemed as if she had died decades ago, but other days, he felt her presence more strongly, as if her absence were only days or hours away.
Leo did not need to love Violet to marry her, though. He needed to find her tolerable, which he did. He needed her to arouse his passions enough for him to bed her, which she also did. Leo would be respectable about everything and very patient, and he would remind himself that he was thinking of the dukedom. That made marrying Violetalmosta noble pursuit.
“But?”
He inclined his head. “I am beginning to think that this plan to wed Violet Brewer may be a good one.”
Mrs. Gunderson’s expression brightened. “Have you asked her yet?”
“No. Given my reputation, I think it best that I send my solicitor to her first. I want Violet Brewer to understand that this is meant to be a mutually beneficial arrangement. That should assuage some of her concerns.”
The housekeeper nodded. “That seems reasonable.”
Leo paused. “Yes, although it remains to be seen if she will agree. She is a romantic, young lady, and I suspect she would prefer a love-match to any marriage of convenience.”
The activities of the bedroom would be an utter mystery to her, and he suspected that it would take some coaxing for Violet to agree to those. That part of the marriage, at least, he did not want her to feel as if she were being forced to partake in.
Mrs. Gunderson’s face softened. “You felt much the same way when you were a young man.”
“And I was only a little older than she when I married Lydia,” Leo replied. “She would have refused a marriage of convenience, too.”
Theirs had been a love-match, and Leo felt a small shred of guilt for depriving Violet of that same opportunity. She could have no love-match if she was wed to him. Leo would do his best to please her. She was a charming woman who deserved someone that would treat her well and give her everything she desired. That was not the same as love, though.
“Still, it is not as though I hold no fondness for her,” Leo said. “That is better than some marriages. I enjoy her company, and I believe she enjoyed mine.”
“Yes.”
“And I am…almost glad,” Leo said. “If I truly loved Violet Brewer, I think I would feel more guilt than I do.”
“Lydia would not care,” Mrs. Gunderson said. “She would simply be content to see you happy, even if it was with another lady.”
“Yes,” Leo replied. “She was so utterly selfless.”
It seemed a great injustice that Lydia had died so young and without warning. The world had lost the most remarkable woman that day. Leo took a shuddering breath. Sometimes, he worried that he was forgetting her face.
There were portraits of Lydia, stored away in a bedroom he never entered, and sometimes, Leo thought about going to see them. He was not sure that he could bear the pain of staring into her gentle brown eyes and her soft, loving face.
“I remember when she first came to Groveswood,” Mrs. Gunderson said softly. “She was so enamored with your estate and the countryside.”
