Page 7 of An Orphan for the Broken Duke

And if she did press… Rhys would have to lie. To speak the truth would only bring pain, and such a tale as that was one he did his best to forget. Certainly, it was not one he wished to relive.

“I do not know if it will be that simple,” Miss Wilks said. “You have met the girl, so you saw how fearful she is. I could force her, of course, but would you want that? To terrorize the poor thing?”

“It is better than the alternative.”

She clicked her tongue. “I also wonder if Violet might wish to adopt her…” She bit into her lip. “They are close, and while I know that Violet struggles, she is the exact type to do so. I would not wish to tear them apart.”

“Violet…” Again, he turned, that time finding Miss Beaumont.

It was strange to think that Rhys had hardly paid her notice the first time they’d met—his attention was saved for Lucy. Strange, because Miss Beaumont was such a force that she was impossible to miss. Chestnut hair, large, blue eyes that were expressive and showed her thoughts long before she spoke them. And while she was not a classic beauty, her features were soft and elegant—the type that would fit right in at many a ball that Rhys had attended.

But it was her personality that he found most curious. Fierce and protective. Determined and stubborn. She did not like Rhys, and she was not afraid to say it. And while that ought to have annoyed him, he rather admired it. That she would speak up to him because she thought she was protecting those she cared for…

She is brave, far more than I have ever been.

“What is her story?” he asked.

“Oh.” Miss Wilks considered. “It is typical, I suppose. She is of the gentry, but her father left her and her younger sister in squalor. She works hard to keep things afloat, and she never speaks of her struggles…” She laughed. “She is not the type.”

Rhys considered Miss Beaumont further. The children needed security and protection, but she needed it too. What was more, she would do anything for them, even if it meant abandoning her own chance at an easy life.

She would do anything for Lucy…

It was then that an idea came to mind. A crazy one! One that had no basis in reality and would likely have Miss Wilks falling from her chair. And that was not to mention how Miss Beaumont would react. But while Rhys knew it was absurd, he found himself watching Lucy again…

Slowly, the idea started to take shape.

Three

“Iwill ask you once more to leave,” Violet said with as much firmness as she could muster. “Do not make me say it again.”

“And as I have explained already, Miss Beaumont, it will make no difference. I am not some goon. I am not here to intimidate. I am merely an emissary, tasked with delivering a message.”

“That message has been heard, and now that it has been, you will leave at once.” She folded her arms and looked warningly upon the man who stood at her front door. “Now!”

The man’s name was Mr. Blackend, and he worked for the bank. He was shorter than Violet, small in the shoulders, and rather plain in the face. There was nothing intimidating about him, but that did not make him any less terrifying. Well, not him so much, but his purpose.

Violet had been expecting him for some time. A whole week, in fact—the length of which had been spent with a held breath, and such nervousness that she could hardly breathe. She’d had a growing sense of foreboding that had become a constant companion of hers over the last three years. So, when he finally did appear, it was almost a relief, as if to get it over with would bring peace and resolve.

The message he delivered was even worse than she imagined.

“I will say it again,” Mr. Blackend said, sounding not so much pleased, but determined. “You have one week. One week to pay what is owed. If such a payment is not made, your home will be forfeited. My employers will then own it, and you will be forced to leave.”

“I heard you the first time,” she snapped. “Now…” She then pointed over his shoulder. “Leave!”

He bowed his head, offered her a final look that she might have misread as pity, and then turned and walked down the driveway. Violet watched him go, keeping her narrowed eyes on him until he turned a corner and was gone.

Only once he was free from sight did she drop her glare, and did she allow the terror to finally take hold. It was like a hand wrapping around her heart, squeezing firmly, there to remind her of what was sure to happen… and that there was nothing she could do about it.

This cannot be real… There must be something…

“Who was that?” The question came from just over Violet’s shoulder.

Violet was quick to straighten her back and stand tall. She was quick to force a smile that she hoped looked sincere. And she was just as quick to prepare her lie. Not one she wanted to tell, but one that she needed to speak.

It was enough that she lived in a constant state of doom and dread, so why burden her sweet sister with the same? Violet’s role was one of protection, and the lies she was forced to tell were all part of that charge.

“It was nobody.” She turned and held that smile for her sister. “A mistaken address.”