Violet folded a cloth sharply. “It is better if we keep matters clear. John needs stability. Connor needs order. I need…”
Hannah waited for her to finish. Violet disliked the waiting more than any question.
“I need the wedding over with.” The answer sounded thin even to her own ears.
Moira, merciful woman that she was, rose and carried a bundle of linen toward the nursery. Hannah dropped the ribbon in her hands and lifted one of the gowns.
“The seam is uneven,” Violet said at once, grateful for the distraction.
Hannah smoothed the fabric. “It willnae matter when ye are walking.”
“It matters to me.”
“Right, how could I forget? Everything made of fabric matters to ye.”
Violet walked to Hannah and pressed her hand on the sleeve of the dress. The gown was better than the borrowed brown one, though still not quite hers. The fall of the fabric was decent, the hem plain, and the cream color kind enough. Her mother would have noticed the seam before Violet said a word.
Her smile faded at the thought of her mother.
“I wish Ma could see it.”
Hannah froze, and suddenly, the air shifted. John gave a soft sound from the cradle, and Violet looked away before her face could betray her.
Hannah set down the gown. “Again, if ye want a way out, say so. Aiden and I will help ye.”
Violet looked toward the sleeping baby. “John needs me.”
Hannah’s voice remained soft. “That is still nae the same thing as settling down.”
“It is enough.”
“Is it?”
Violet had no straightforward answer, so she rose and crossed to the cradle. John slept on, unaware that half the castle was tying itself into knots around him.
Later that afternoon, she found Connor in the nursery with John in his arms. He stood stiffly at first, as if the baby were a treaty written in a language he distrusted. Then John made a small sound, and Connor adjusted his hold without looking down, his hand supporting the tiny head with more care than his stern face showed.
“If ye mean to command every woman in this castle by crying, laddie,” he murmured, “ye should at least be clear about yer terms.”
Violet almost smiled at those words, but she caught herself almost immediately. Without thinking too hard about it, she stepped back before he noticed.
This marriage was business. It had to be. Yet the thought grew less convincing every time she saw him.
This marriage is just business. Nothing else.
Connor heard about the market from Alex in the study.
“Lady Violet and Moira went down to the market with the bairn,” Alex said, setting a report on the desk. “I made certain they had two guards with them when they left, so ye need nae worry. I am only telling ye now because they have returned.”
Connor looked up. “What?”
“I told ye, they were guarded.”
“Why in God’s name did they go to the market?”
Alex’s mouth twitched once. “Moira said Her Ladyship wanted to see if she could get some toys for the bairn.”
Connor looked toward the window. In the courtyard below, Violet held John beneath a strip of blue cloth she had lifted into the light. He watched as she spoke to him about the fabric as if it were something important.
