Page 51 of An Orphan for the Broken Duke

“I am not doubting you,” he said gently. “But it is not such a bad thing to accept help when offered.” He smiled at her, and she still looked unsure. “Shall we ask Lucy?”

“Ask her what?”

Lucy was playing in the corner with her toys, and Rhys turned to face her. “Lucy, would you like to go for a walk through the garden? Just you and me?”

Lucy’s eyes widened in surprise and a hint of worry. She looked at Violet as if for an answer, but Violet gave her nothing. Slowly, she scrunched her face, took some time to consider, and then allowed a smile.

“A walk?” she said. “You and… and me?”

“If you would like to?” He held out his hand for her to take. “Just to give Violet some time to herself. Come now…” He kept his hands extended, and he breathed a sigh of relief when she took it.

“We will be back shortly,” he told Violet as he led Lucy across the room. “And if you have a nap…” he winked, “I will not tell anyone.”

“Thank you,” Violet said with a deep sigh, as if a weight was falling from her shoulders.

“Do not mention it.”

He smiled at her, and then led Lucy from the room. As they went, he felt Violet watching him, and he felt her gratitude. They were all small gestures, nothing fancy or elaborate, but they were making a huge difference.

It felt good to do the right thing. It felt good to help people. And most of all, it felt good to see Violet so happy. That was a sensation that Rhys clung to, and one he hoped did not leave him anytime soon.

The days were starting to blur.

Violet moved through them like a woman possessed, unable and unwilling to stop until everything was finished and accounted for. When she had agreed to host the ball, she had known that it would be a gargantuan task to undertake, but she had not considered just how much work there would be to do.

It was the little things that got to her the most.

When the flower arraignments arrived, it was not just a matter of telling the staff where they were to be placed. Oh no, she had to watch over it herself, constantly making small adjustments so that they were perfect.

When the orchestra delivered their song list for her to look over, she had every single song played for her, several times. Then she tried to picture the mood, the timing, even going so far as to reorder several of the songs.

Even something as simple as the candles became a task unto itself. She spent hours testing out the lighting, making changes, ordering more only to realize that less was what they needed.

And on and on it went.

The days dragged on, and closer came the main event so that when Violet was told that it was just three days away, she went into a panic.

“That cannot be right!” she cried at Rose, who told her the information. It was late in the evening, and Violet had been hunched over her writing desk, furiously scribbling away at something that she could not even say what it was, such was the state of her mind.

“Three days, Violet,” Rose repeated. “But I am not concerned about the ball. It is you who I am worried about.”

“Me?” Violet blinked through her blurred eyes. “What does that mean?”

“Look at yourself!” Rose cried. “You are a mess. I have never seen you so utterly disheveled. When was the last time that you slept?”

“I can sleep later.”

Rose snorted. “When you drop dead, which will be the case if you do not take a day off.”

“A day off?” Violet laughed hysterically. “How nice that might be. But I do not have the time.”

“You do,” Rose told her. “You just do not wish to use it appropriately. Have you considered—and do not lose your mind, please—but have you considered asking for help?”

Violet felt a cold ripple up her body at that word. Then it plunged through her, roiling her stomach so that she thought she might be sick.

Help? Is she serious? I do not need help. I can do this myself!

“I do not need help,” she said with a sneer that she did not mean. “I am perfectly capable on my own.”