The hall had been lined with dozens of vases full of beautiful white roses, undoubtedly to welcome the newlyweds to their home. Except, every single one of the roses had been cut, right at the top of the stems, and now petals lay on the floor below the vases, like decapitated heads.
The scene was eerie and profoundly disturbing. Its meaning was not lost on Violet—it was a warning. Her father knew she had married the Duke of Attorton, and he was coming for them.
“I want these cleared out of here at once!” James’s voice filled the hall, dark and angry and loud. It reverberated off the marble floor and stairs, echoing with a commanding power.
Violet had never heard him sound like this before, and it might have impressed her if she hadn’t felt so dizzy and sick with fear.
Father was here. Or someone working for him. Inside the house.
Was nowhere safe?
I married James because I thought he, at least, would keep me safe. But what if that’s not possible? Did I just give up my chance for a real marriage and children for nothing?
The thought was so horrible that for a second, Violet thought she might cast up her crumpets.
The butler was barking out sharp commands at the servants, who suddenly filled the hall as they hurried to take away all the flowers and vases. The flurry of activity did little to ease Violet’s nerves. She stared around at the servants, all of whom wore unreadable looks on their faces, and her heart hammered.
One of them might have done it. One of them might be working for Father.
“And someone bring my wife some water!” James’s shout startled her out of her thoughts, and she stared up at him. He was looking down at her with deep concern.
“I think I might faint,” she murmured.
At once, he seized her hand and led her over to a window seat overlooking the square.
“It’ll be alright,” James murmured as he helped her into the seat. “I promise you, we will find out who did this and make sure it never happens again.”
Violet blinked up at him, too much in shock to try and respond. She wanted to believe him, but how could she?
James’s expression hardened, as if he could read the doubt in her eyes. When he spoke again, his voice was full of the same dark, commanding note she’d heard earlier.
“No one will touch you,” he vowed. “I give you my word.”
“Thank you, Your Grace,” Violet murmured.
“James,” he said, without thinking. “Please call me James.”
Chapter Four
“Would you like to go for a walk with me?” Violet asked her sister, glancing over her shoulder to where she was reading on the settee. “I am beginning to feel suffocated. I’d love to get outside, get some fresh air.”
Rosalie lazily turned another page in her book. “No, thank you, but feel free to go ahead,” she muttered, without even looking at Violet. “I want to stay in here and read.”
Violet sighed. “You can’t read all day,” she protested. “A young lady needs to have multiple interests and pursuits. She should not be so singular.”
“Why not?” Rosalie looked up at her now, her eyes narrowed.
“Because—”
“At least I have a pursuit. What’s yours?”
Violet balked at her sister’s question, but she tried not to let it show. She forced a smile. “I suppose that’s something I will have to find out.”
“What is it you would most like to do, Violet?”
James’s question had been persistently echoing in her mind since he’s asked it. In truth, she had never let herself want anything before.
Rosalie returned to her book, unaware she had offended her, and Violet turned back to look out the window. Her sister’s words had stung. She still didn’t know what her passion was, especially when most of her time was now taken up by managing the Duke’s household—a task she wasn’t entirely certain how to carry out.
