Violet Durbin lives as a social outcast, fending illicit propositions. In an effort to keep his nephew from marrying her, the Duke of Hawkinston falls in love with her himself.
CHAPTER 1
The Duke of Hawkinston gazed at his nephew, Jared, Viscount Falweir, with disapproving eyes while Jared looked nervously around the room, extremely uncomfortable. He seemed even younger than his twenty years as he glanced back at his uncle with his light blue eyes, purposely not focusing on him. His wispy flaxen hair stuck in a cowlick and the points of his collar rose to absurd heights. This morning he had been certain of his attire as giving him the “bang up to the mark” image most young men of his circle sought. Now, he wasn’t sure of that anymore.
He felt disconcerted and nervous at this meeting with his uncle. For the hundredth time Jared wished his father had left as guardian the amiable Lester Cawlingford, rather than the formidable duke whom there was no way he was ever going to please. It was amazing to Jared that the Duke of Hawkinston must only be about ten years older than he was. This fact never failed to astound him, for he could not imagine the duke at his, Jared’s age. It would be too taxing to the imagination. His uncle to him seemed to have been on this earth the size and age he was, always.
Only a few months left in his guardianship, Jared told himself, in order to cope with this trying interview. He closed his eyes momentarily, wishing himself somewhere else. Every meeting he had ever had with his uncle had been a trying experience. There was no family warmth and certainly no camaraderie between them. It was always the same: his uncle considered him immature and unable to have any opinion of his own on any subject. Even when he had dared to discuss the war with him a few years back, he had been sternly informed that he should not dare opine on something he knew little about and even less experience with. How can one have a conversation with a person who appears to think of himself god-like? Even on a personal level, Jared was repulsed by the duke’s power and wealth and an arrogance that seemed to know no bounds. He thought of the duke more of a king that the king was himself.
“I cannot comprehend why it is you cannot stay out of the gossip columns, Jared,” his uncle now said. “Surely it isn’t that difficult. From the rather explicit content of one column in particular it appears you have not only been frequenting ‘The Cave,’ a den of inequity that has felled more seasoned gamblers than you but you have been seen cavorting with Casey Sallingate…”
“There ain’t nothing wrong with Casey, Uncle Perry, we went to school together. He’s a right cove and a tight friend, and admitted in the best circles!”
“Kindly abstain from talking fustian, Jared,” interrupted his uncle impatiently. “Save such talk for when you are with your ‘coves’. Next you’ll be dandifying your attire like Sallingate. I saw him at White’s just yesterday and his clothes brought to mind his father, the poor slob, who had the poetic misfortune of dying at a duel that was meant for first blood only, by making a quirky movement.”
“Sallingate is a right co—” Jared stopped himself in time.
“He hasn’t got the sense the Lord gave a goat,” said the duke, “in his choice of debutantes, either. He’s courting Lady Jessica Blayne, Lord Kelly’s niece.”
“And you take exception to Lady Jessica, Uncle? Her bloodlines are sterling!”
“That may very well be,” said the duke with a shake of the head, “but Lord Kelly became her guardian on her father’s death. And I hope you’re not indifferent to the fact that Lord Kelly went beyond the pale when he married his mistress, Jared. Anyone who associates with Lord Kelly now is stained by association. Lady Jessica’s prospects are diminished by association with that family.”
“Lord Kelly is a right—”
“Yes, I know, a right ‘cove’,” said his uncle, “nevertheless, he is not admitted in the inner circles of society anymore, in case you haven’t noticed, and they will remain closed to him because of his choice of brides. Why he had to go and marry a courtesan is beyond me. Bed, them yes, but marry them? Next you’ll be telling me that the daughter he acknowledged publicly—what’s her name…”
“Violet.”
“That name sprang quickly to your mind, Jared, suspiciously so. I hope you are not developing feelings for the young lady, because I will be forced to nick that in the bud and very quickly too.”
“Violet will never belong to anyone, Uncle Perry. But if she even glanced my way, I swear I would give up the world just to be a few minutes in her favor.”
“Those Byron poems are going to your head, Jared. Less poetry and more schoolbooks would be more salutary in your case. You have your head in the clouds when it comes to women.”
The duke shook his head again. He certainly had never been as intense and impulsive as an adolescent as his nephew was. The Duke of Hawkinston was thirty-two years old and all of those thirty-two years he had spent in the luxury, privilege and ease that his position had ensured him from birth. Not once had he known what it was to long for something and know in his heart he would never have it.
His infancy and youth had been pampered, his adulthood doubly so. He had never questioned his position; to him it was an unconscious birthright. He would have questioned breathing and sleeping as natural facts before he questioned the position he had been born to or wonder that it was merely by chance he had not been born a beggar in gaol. To have thought that would have been unthinkable and the duke never gave a thought to the unthinkable as related to himself.
From the moment he woke up each day he would have been reminded of his position had he ever perceived it as something that might not have been save for a Providence which had smiled on him and not on countless others.
“The little master is a old one,” his old caretaker, Joseph, had said when Hawkinston was a child, “and ‘e’ll never be a young ‘un.”
That prediction seemed to have held fast throughout Hawkinston’s early years and throughout his life. He had never really been young. So it was hard for him to understand his nephew Jared’s youth and impetuosity.
The duke was not handsome in the usual way, but he was arresting nevertheless and his presence filled a room, overwhelming even the least timid. His eyes were the gray-green of moss. At times, when he became extremely interested in something, his eyes did approach a magnetic kind of attraction that had surprised a few people who had witnessed this change in them, for it was quite unexpected. Yet since he rarely gazed at anything that interested him too much, this unique feature in his eyes was destined to stay unused and almost completely hidden.
His other good feature was his well-shaped head of which attraction of shape he was absolutely unconscious. His fine head of dark and abundant hair and his regal composure made him an arresting sight whenever he entered a room.
“Ah, well, favors is what Violet would be bestowing right and left if her mother had not had the immense fortune of trapping that idiot, Lord Kelly, in her net,” the duke now said to his nephew. “I could not believe my ears when I heard the dolt actually allows her to use his name!”
“Violet and her mother are in the favor of the Earl of Arandale,” said Jared. His fervent admiration and awakening love for Violet making him daring. Even the thought of Violet now sent a delicious shiver throughout his body so that he wished this interview over and he left free to call on Violet.
“Yes, I believe you’re right,” said the duke. “It seems this girl, Violet, alerted Arandale about the Lady Arandale’s kidnapping, thus saving the countess. How the girl knew about the kidnapping seems suspect to me. However, Arandale is forever in the girl’s debt and rightly so. But even that won’t get ‘Lady’ Kelly and her daughter vouchers to Almack’s—everyone would abstain in protest.”
“I have accepted an invitation to a musicale at Lord Kelly’s, sir,” Jared now said, alarmed that his uncle’s unexpected animosity about Violet and her mother might interfere with his social plans. “I have already sent my acceptance. Is it alright if I go, sir?”
Jared squirmed in his seat, as he always did in Hawkinston’s presence. Hawkinston frowned. This was not the first person he saw squirm in his presence. It occurred to him for the first time that there were some people that would rather not be too long in his company. Being extremely fond of his own company, Hawkinston wondered why this was so.
“Well, a musicale is harmless, I suppose,” said the duke and remembered that he too, had been sent an invitation. If Wattling hadn’t tossed it in the ash can, it might still be there. He suddenly had a feeling of curiosity, aroused, no doubt by Jared’s words that the girl, Violet, would never belong to anyone.
“What does Violet look like?” he now asked his nephew.
“She’s…” Jared thought of Violet’s tourmaline blue eyes and said, “Violet cannot be described.”
“Come, now,” said the duke with a frown. “She’s not exactly an angel, from what I recall. She was the mistress of that cad, Alex Shackel, who was run through with a sword by the Earl of Arandale. That was six or seven years ago, I believe. I was in Scotland at the time so I don’t know the particulars…”
“She was forced to become Shackel’s mistress, Uncle Perry, and she was his mistress only for about three months before the Earl of Arandale killed him.”
“The only difference is that she didn’t say yes,” said the duke impatiently, “the result is the same—loss of virtue. And three months or three years is all the same to me. And by the way, Jared, she may be Lord Kelly’s acknowledged daughter now but she is not exactly a girl, nor an example to her sex. She is known to all.”
“No, Uncle, she is not—” said Jared, in the same instant wondering at his daring, “—you don’t know her.”
Jared’s uncle now wondered how anyone could awaken such a passionate defense on a young buck like Jared. Up until now Jared had taken a lazy attitude towards everything except horses. Jared, on the other hand, wondered how it was possible for him to have descended from such pompous prigs such as the duke and his father, who had been the duke’s brother. A revolutionary like himself was an ill fit in such a family.
“How can you dislike someone you have never met, sir?” Jared now asked, more boldly than his usual, even as his uncle noticed how he had leaned forward in his chair, earnestly.
“Violet seldom goes anywhere and does so only when Lady Arandale particularly desires here company, as when they went to view the antiquities last Tuesday. I accompanied them,” added Jared proudly and when he noticed that his uncle was quietly gazing at him he finished with,
“Violet does not pretend to possess a virtuous past, Uncle Perry; she has accompanied Lady Jessica only to the places where she is allowed entrance. She, of course, does not attend the Almack balls with Lady Jessica.”
“Nor many other places,” said the duke, though less emphatically. He leaned over to the bell cord and rang for his valet.
“Bring me the invitation to Lord Kelly’s musicale, Wattling,” he said.
“Yes, your grace.”
When Wattling had left Jared stared at his uncle. “You are planning to attend Lord Kelly’s musicale, Uncle Perry?”
“I believe I shall, just to keep an eye on you,” said the duke.
“I—” Jared stopped what he was about to say. Just the thought of the duke at the musicale, ruining his plans for the evening made him almost shake. He had looked forward to the musicale for weeks as it was the only social event held at Lord Kelly’s house and one of the very few where he could dance with Violet.
“Don’t worry, Jared,” said the duke in a sardonic tone, noticing Jared’s immediate reaction to his words, “I promise I will not cast a shadow on your movements. That is, if you behave. I believe your actions of recent months warrant a closer scrutiny. I don’t believe your father would sanction your inroads into gaming hells in Whitechapel or interest in demimonde women. You may be a young blood eager for adventure but as your guardian I am not going to let you get out of hand. I have a duty to uphold to your father and I intend to keep it.”
“There is to be a dance, too, Uncle Perry.” Jared looked at his hands and winced as he waited for the duke’s reply.
“Ah, now I see,” said the duke, “when I had not expressed a wish to attend it was only a musicale. But now that I will be attending, you must disclose that it is to be a dance. And with whom are you planning to dance, Jared, the woman, Violet? And how old is she, by the way?”
“She’s eighteen, I believe.”
“Eighteen! But—” the duke frowned. He had imagined Violet to be in her late twenties or early thirties. This certainly gave a whole different perspective of her.
“She was only thirteen when that cad, Alex Shackel forced her to become his mistress, Uncle,” said Jared. “She was a mere child. He discarded Sadie, Violet’s mother, and forced Sadie’s daughter, a girl who was an innocent child to become his mistress. Thankfully it was only for three months, as the Earl of Arandale put a stop to that. Surely you cannot blame Violet for the actions of a villain?”
“You have become too attached to that family, Jared, and in particular do you admire the girl. Where will this lead you? As your guardian and uncle I must warn you that you are treading dangerous ground. You have certain responsibilities to your family and to your name that you cannot ignore while you go skirt chasing.”
But even the duke felt his own words had lost the ardor with which he had been initially against Violet. She was only a young girl, after all. However, she had been a courtesan, no matter that it had only been for three months. That part of her life could never be erased. It would be much better to nip this interest in the bud, for Jared seemed to be unusually taken with the girl. If he allowed this to turn into a full-blown passion it would be more difficult to stop. Now was the time to act.
It was useless to argue with the duke, thought Jared. He would never view Violet as anything but a courtesan, no matter that Violet’s conduct was impeccable and that her reputation, save for her unfortunate past, was above reproach. He would marry her in a heartbeat, thought Jared, and brave the havoc it would create with his family, if only Violet would agree to marry him.
“You have become very thoughtful of a sudden,” said his uncle suspiciously, “what is going through your mind, Jared?”
“Nothing, Uncle Perry, nothing other than to wonder if this afternoon at Tattersall’s I shall be able to obtain that sweet goer, Brightstar, for my curricle.”
“I know when I’m being gamboled, Jared, so don’t attempt it. I would lay a hundred to one that your thoughts are not far from that girl, Violet. But I do warn you, Jared, do not make me exercise my authority as guardian and interfere for your own good. You cannot consider a relationship with that woman. It is absolutely out of the question. She is not of your class and since ardent passions lead either to affairs or marriage, both are dangerous at your impetuous age.”
“And now, this meeting is over, Jared; I have other matters to attend to.”
Jared sighed in relief. The half hour meeting had seemed like hours to him. Would there ever be a time when he would feel comfortable in his uncle’s presence? He seriously doubted it.
“I shall see you at the musicale, Uncle Perry,” said Jared at the door, his face lighting up with a broad smile, for he was thinking that in a few more months he was to obtain his majority and then the duke’s orders would fall hollow on his ears.
He was well aware of how unfairly Violet and her mother were treated by society. They might have some cause to treat Sadie with contempt but as far as Jared was concerned, they had absolutely no reason to treat Violet in such a manner. Violet was completely innocent. She had been a child when this happened and a child has no control over the actions of adults. Had she asked to be forced into sexual slavery with that fiend? Luckily, it had lasted only three months. Fate had interfered and Violet had been freed. Why should society now become the jailer?
There was no hesitation in Jared’s part. He only waited to attain his majority; then he would be free to marry whomever he chose. He was well aware of the firestorm it would cause in his family but he cared not a whit.
The trustees of his estate, among them the duke, would do everything in their power to prevent him from marrying Violet, but his mind was set in stone. Nothing they said would make him change his mind. In the end they would just have to accept it.
Why, he wouldn’t even be the first in his family to stray from the strict code for marrying in his family. Uncle Jonathan, Baron Eldier, had been shunned by his family for marrying the daughter of a commoner. This had gone on for decades and in the end they had welcomed him back to the fold, when his father, strictest in his family, had died. So it would be in his case. If they shunned him it wouldn’t matter to him. In the end they would have to accept it and move on.
CHAPTER 2
During the following days, being concerned with other matters, the Duke of Hawkinston forgot Lord Kelly’s musicale and had he not received a missive from Jared informing him he had a very bad cold and would not be able to attend, the duke would have forgotten it entirely.
He now remembered that he had been curious about the girl, Violet. But now he wondered if it was wise for him to go when Jared was not to attend. Surely his presence would give Lord Kelly’s household undeserved consequence. Had he not assured Jared that Lord Kelly had asked for the snubs he regularly got from society?
Yet something tugged at his mind and it suddenly came to him. He had seen the girl, once, some years back. Violet had been pointed out to him from some distance, at the time that everyone was talking of the on dit of the moment.
Lord Kelly’s marriage to his mistress had been attended only by a handful of people. He recalled that a few men at White’s had been discussing the marriage in disparaging terms within his earshot. As he knew them well, he had asked who they were talking about for they seemed to find everything about it very laughable.
Sir Waisfield had answered that Lord Kelly had married a woman so passed around that she should have put wheels on her feet.
“Who is that?” the duke had asked.
“Sadie Welsh. A comely wench who started out with Lord Kassing. You remember Kassing? Lived in London year around until he died in a race to Brighton?”
“Who did Sadie Welsh marry?” the duke had asked, his interest aroused. It was not unheard of that a man married his mistress, but it was rare enough to cause a buzzing for weeks or even months, especially if the woman was a well-known member of the demimonde.
“Lord Kelly it is. Have you ever heard of such a noncock? He sealed his doom, alright,” said Sir Waisfield. “Connie already told me in no uncertain terms Kelly is not darkening our doorway from this day forth.” And then he added, “and so it will go with every household of any worth. The doors will be shut on his face. It’s an affront that he tried to shove his mistress on us and an affront to our friendship.”
“Friendship?” asked the duke, but the ironic tone was lost on Waisfield.
The duke remembered someone laughing and mentioning that the marriage had been witnessed only by the Earl of Arandale, Lady Arandale and Violet, who was shortly after acknowledged as Lord Kelly’s daughter.
It was there that Hawkinston had learned that Sadie’s daughter, Violet, had been instrumental in rescuing Miss Cecilia Sentennel, the Earl of Arandale’s betrothed, from the clutches of her kidnapper, Alex Shackel. The adventure had brought Lord Kelly and Sadie in contact again and they had renewed their love. Lord Kelly, learning that Violet was his daughter, had married Sadie and published his recognition of Violet as his daughter.
Violet’s features as the duke tried to recall them were indistinct; her face was like a vague pale vision shimmering underwater. And beckoning—curiously beckoning. He now understood why Jared was fascinated with the girl. A stirring of curiosity swept through him and something, an expectation toward attending a social event. He had not felt any kind of anticipation toward any social event for more years than he could recall.
He had let his mind wander. In any case he realized that it was too late to decline the invitation, as he had already accepted.
And without examining his motives too closely, Peregrine de More, Duke of Hawkinston, summoned his valet.
* * *
“Your grace, we are honored.” Harding Durbin, Viscount Kelly, said nervously, as the duke was announced. Lord Kelly had rushed over to the duke, leaving the small receiving line comprised of only him, Lady Kelly and Violet. The duke nodded to Lord Kelly and Lord Kelly directed him to Lady Kelly, who waited nervously. Hawkinston greeted Sadie tersely and dismissively and moved on to Violet. Violet glanced up as he approached her and her dark lashed blue eyes looked into his.
For a moment the duke felt dazzled—taken aback by unexpected, overwhelming beauty. He had never seen a woman so beautiful in all his life.
Hawkinston considered he was well seasoned in such things and had still felt the force of Violet’s beauty like a sudden sharp gale. She could not be unaware of this; surely she must be pretending not to know of her effect on men. Her face was serene and composed. Hawk always suspected the motives of courtesans. He had had ample experience with them.
“Miss Durbin,” said the duke, nodding.
“Your grace,” said Violet with a curtsey. They exchanged a few pleasantries. Violet felt a thrill of awareness in the duke’s company, as if the sun were blazing down on her. Yet her demeanor did not reveal any of it. What did this mean? She had never felt this way before. She felt hot and cold and as if she would suddenly take off soaring above the room.
For the first time in her life Violet felt she had no control over her senses.
And it was in that very same instant that the Duke of Hawkinston swore to himself that he would come to an arrangement with Violet before the night ended. The astounding beauty would be his, heart and soul, for as long as he wished it. Of that he was quite certain.
Once Violet quieted down her pulse and heart, she pounded herself back to reality. She had seen a lot in the duke’s initial assessing glance and in the few words exchanged and she didn’t like it. She now saw him as a man who was used to having his way in everything, especially concerning women. And she saw unmasked disdain in his eyes, both for herself and especially for her mother. For herself she didn’t care, as it was what she usually got from society men; but Violet was wounded deeply by the disdain she saw in the duke’s eyes directed at her mother. The duke had looked down at her mother and then away as if he pointedly wanted to snub her.
Sadie and Violet had been shunned by almost everyone in society, yet society at least stayed away. The Duke of Hawkinston had come to their house to show his contempt.
She also saw something in his seemingly cursory glance, the same assessing look she saw in the eyes of many of the society men who came into contact with her in the few social functions she and her mother attended. What she saw in his eyes was the belief that she could easily be made his mistress, that it would take only a little nudge. It was obvious to his grace, as it had been to those other men, that marriage to any of them was beyond her grasp and so the second best thing, a discreet liaison, could be arranged.
When it was polite to do so, Violet escaped the duke’s oppressive presence and headed toward the terrace for a breath of fresh air. As she had gone through a back corridor to get to the terrace in a roundabout way she was able to enjoy a much prized solitude in the velvet darkness of the far corner of the terrace, where it turned just for a few short feet.
She glanced up at the moon. The silvery rays illumined a face that hid a soul scarred by sorrow, deep sorrow that was well hidden beneath a pearly complexion and shadowed blue eyes.
She could hear the opening notes of the musicians as they prepared for the recital and knew that she must soon return. For weeks she had looked forward to the musicale and dance. This was the only social event that was held at Lord Kelly’s during the whole year. She had little opportunity to attend a dance and it had now been ruined for her by the duke’s attendance. She would now go through the evening without the unalloyed enjoyment she had looked forward to before.
She knew she must now be on her guard for any invitation that came from those well-formed lips and the arrogant moss green eyes. She did not fear, though. She was apt at rejection and the duke, after all, was a gentleman. No matter that the duke had made her gasp for air, something she had successfully masked. She would just have to strengthen her defenses.
As a child she had lived in the uneasy comfort that her mother’s occupation as “a kept whore” had provided. The tenseness that followed the ending of each of her mother’s relationships was ingrained in her personality as a fear of the unknown.
When her mother’s last lover, Alex Shackel, discarding Sadie, had forced Violet into becoming his mistress, life had taken a turn toward the horrible and dangerous. She had felt as naked as if she had been living on the streets in Whitechapel.
But life in the halls of society was hardly different as far as the lust of men. So it was in the brocade and silk rooms that she had perfected the art of rejection. For the first time in her life she enjoyed peace in her soul, the peace that had miraculously come about when fate had placed her in the path of the Earl of Arandale and his betrothed, Cecilia Sentennel. Becoming aware that Alex Shackel had plans to kidnap Miss Sentennel to force her to marriage, Violet had alerted the earl at great risk to herself. The action had started the sequel of events that led to the earl’s uncle, Lord Kelly, reuniting with his old mistress, Violet’s mother, Sadie. Lord Kelly had realized Sadie was the only woman he had ever truly loved and defying society had made her his wife, had adopted his illegitimate daughter, Violet and had given her his name.
Violet smiled as she returned to the brightly-lit salon. The scent of burning wax and flowers, the din of voices and the music seemed suddenly heady and Violet knew in her heart that gentlemen, at least, would not force her, as Shackel had. And so long as she made it a point never to be alone with any man, she was safe. Experience at this sort of thing had now made her an expert at evading male company. That was an armor of itself and she felt the security of her present life wrap suddenly around her like a warm, soft shawl. She felt her spirits soar and was again grateful to her father, for in acknowledging her, he had given her the armor only a lady possesses—the protection of a name.
She need not ever marry. Her father had provided for her even should he die before she did. She was safe. Violet prized this safety more than anything in the world. Others might be born to it and so could not know what it was to be without it. She, on the other hand, had known what it was to be without it and held it dear to her heart.
Across the large room, the Duke of Hawkinston gazed at Violet and saw that she was lost in thought. He felt a sharp stirring that began at his loins and rippled throughout him. It was amazing that such a slip of a girl could cause such sudden longing in him. He had a sudden vision of himself stroking that silken skin, burying his head in that amazing hair, holding her fast to his body…
What was she thinking about, he wondered? She looked so lost in thought she might be in another room, another city—and so unaware of him that it dazzled his senses. No one in his life had been as unaware of him in the same room as this girl was of him. Was the girl ignoring him to awaken his interest? Pursued as he was by hordes of females each season, Hawkinston could be forgiven for mistaking Violet’s intentions. He had a small yardstick by which he judged the opposite sex, especially those he considered ladies of the demimonde, for Hawkinston considered Violet to be a former courtesan, however brief that state had been.
The duke was directed to the place of honor, a higher chair than the rest and something of a semi-throne. He wished he could decline the honor and sit closer to Violet, in order to observe her. Yet he could tell Lord Kelly and “Lady” Kelly, as he contemptuously thought of Sadie, had made a special effort to honor him and he could not outright reject the “scaffold” they had prepared for him. And what was worse, this chair was in the front and the duke could hardly turn around to glance at Violet without it being awkward. For the first time in his life he felt the inconvenience of being a duke. Had he been an earl or a viscount he would now be sitting wherever he felt like and his eyes would now be gazing at that lovely girl. No wonder Jared had been bewitched; who wouldn’t be?
Well, being a duke also has its advantages, he thought, in that one can do as one pleases, which he intended now to do. The duke stood up and Lord Kelly, about to take his place in the next row to his, rushed over.
“Your grace—”
“I’m afraid I must decline your very comfortable chair, Harding,” said the duke with a half grin, unusual in him. “I am afraid of heights.”
“Certainly your grace…I…perhaps you might sit in this row…”
“Let me just move over to the back part of the room, Harding,” said the duke quickly, before Lord Kelly could assign him another seat. Goodness, the man acted like he was an usher in Drury Lane.
“Please to not concern yourself with me at all,” he said firmly. “Just stay here with Lady Kelly. And by the way, Harding,” added the duke, “I’d much rather you called me Hawk—my friends do.”
He intended to see a lot of Violet, and in turn Lord Kelly, so it was best he cut the formalities right away.
“Oh—your—” Lord Kelly’s mouth had formed into a frozen “O.”
“Hawk, that’s the name, Harding,” said the duke.
“Yes—ah—Hawk—” said Lord Kelly awkwardly. He had not crossed three words with the duke before in his life and now he was to call him “Hawk,” as though they were lifelong chums!
“Continue with what you were doing and never mind me,” said the duke and exited Lord Kelly’s presence quickly.
Violet, viewing this scene from the back of the room, figured out exactly what was going on. She had not grown up on the harsh streets of London without developing a sixth sense. She now smelled danger as quickly as a wolf in the woods does and just as quickly moved away from the place where she was certain the duke was headed—towards her.
So he was to be the cat tonight, thought the duke as he saw Violet from a distance move away from the back of the room and down to the middle, amidst a group of chattering females. These ladies made room for her among them and for the moment she was as safe from the duke as if he were barred from her by a high fence. But just for the time being, he thought. Anyone knows that the mouse hasn’t a chance against a tomcat. She would struggle a bit making the game more interesting for him, but that she would be his in the end there was absolutely no doubt in Hawkinston’s mind.
Violet, sitting rigidly, listening to the opening notes of the music stared straight ahead and no one, judging from her hauntingly lovely face, would have guessed that she was assessing the duke’s weapons just as much as he was assessing her vulnerabilities. He must think her easy prey, she thought, for he had moved quickly, without any need for convention. And she knew with a lead weight in her heart that she must fight not only the duke’s advances but herself, as well. For the first time since she had said a tearful goodbye to her first love on that long ago day, an awakening of interest in another man had happened for the first time in her cold, barren heart. Her attraction to a man who obviously saw her as prey was perplexing, yet there it was, and she must fight not only the duke, but herself as well, if she was to succeed—and she must succeed, of that there was no question.
She knew in her heart that the trust and love her father had placed in her was a treasure she would die before betraying.
She would never become anyone’s mistress, neither the duke’s, or any other man’s.
When her father, Philip Harding Durbin, Lord Kelly, acknowledged her, he had given her a new life. Lord Kelly had fallen from grace by marrying her mother and acknowledging her, Violet, and she had never seen the slightest hint of regret in him in the years that followed. He seemed the happiest of men. He had not only acknowledged her publicly and legally as his daughter and given her a home with him, but he had given her his name, as well, the most precious gift of all. She would never betray that trust and that gift by becoming what she most hated becoming in this life—a kept whore.
Serenity passed over her face like mist. There was nothing to be worried about, after all. Her determination would be the beacon that lighted her way—steadfast before her until the day she died. The duke could not succeed against her determination. The only way he could succeed was by force, and Violet was certain he would never use force against her. She was a good judge of character.
The endless recital, the longest in the duke’s memory, finally came to an end and he saw that the small orchestra was beginning to play the opening dance. He headed straight to where Violet was. At the same time a pale and scrawny young buck—Sir Ashtin Blakely—had timidly approached her.
The duke was not within earshot but he was almost certain that Violet had agreed to a dance before the young man had asked. He could tell by the surprised pleasure in the young man’s eyes and the way that Violet hurriedly wove her arm through his. Young Ashtin led Violet to the dance floor and the duke would have been increasingly bemused if he had heard Violet induce the delighted young man into asking her for the following waltz.
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Copyright 2008 Gloria Gay. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author.
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