Clue of Affection

by Ellie St. Clair

  Clue of Affection

  Searching Hearts Book 2

  Ellie St. Clair

  Prairie Lily Press

  ♥ Copyright 2017 by Ellie St Clair - All rights reserved.

  In no way is it legal to reproduce, duplicate, or transmit any part of this document in either electronic means or in printed format. Recording of this publication is strictly prohibited and any storage of this document is not allowed unless with written permission from the publisher. All rights reserved.

  Respective authors own all copyrights not held by the publisher.

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  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Epilogue

  QUEST OF HONOR

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  THE DUKE SHE WISHED FOR

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  More From Ellie St. Clair

  About the Author

  Prologue

  Patience was certainly a required virtue of a young lady, but not one that Violet overly enjoyed. She was currently waiting -- patiently -- in the ornate parlor for her Aunt Bess to arrive. She sat on the edge of the sofa as she gazed around the room at her ancestors, who stared down at her from their portraits hung on the blue walls. Violet could hardly wait for Bess to arrive at Woodsworth, the country home of the Harrington family.

  Violet never felt quite comfortable here in the drawing room, the furniture stiff, the wood polished to gleaming, and the cut glass falling in a waterfall design on the chandelier that hung from the middle of the room, accentuated by the gold corner treatments on the high ceiling’s border. It was beautiful, but this was her mother’s domain. However, Violet would wait anywhere for her aunt. Bess was the sister of Lionel Harrington, Duke of Ware, but she was everything her brother was not. She was vivacious, interesting, and electric. Violet absolutely adored her.

  “She’s coming! I can see her carriage down the drive!” Violet’s sister Polly rushed into the room to announce the arrival of their aunt. Violet rose and followed Polly at a slower pace. She would have liked to race as well, but she was older now, with her coming out season upon her. Her mother frowned upon what she saw as childish actions, and so Violet contented herself with following Polly’s blonde head as quickly as she could without breaking into a run.

  When Bess walked in the door, she brought with her additional life through the wide smile she bestowed on each of them. Violet was thrilled to see her but was equally as interested in the man accompanying her aunt. Bess, the widow of the Duke of Newton, had recently remarried an Italian — one without a title, which absolutely horrified Violet’s mother Marie. Her father, however, simply shrugged his shoulders and said his sister was old enough now to do as she pleased, and he had enough to worry about with his children.

  The Italian was captivating. He was the age of her parents, yet his dark eyes were charming, his hair hanging in waves around his shoulders. He greeted them in English, with one arm tucked loosely around Bess. “Mio Caro,” Violet heard him murmur as they moved into the parlor. How lovely, Violet thought, as she saw Bess’ matching look of affection for her husband.

  Dinner was a lively affair, with the five Harrington siblings so inquisitive about their aunt’s new home in Venice, a city they had never visited. They were captivated by the thought of homes that rested on water, canals instead of roads and boats instead of horses. “Can we please visit Aunt Bess, Father?” asked Thomas, the second eldest, who yearned to explore the world.

  “Perhaps,” their father said in his usual manner.

  “I am unsure how we would find time to be traveling across the continent,” said Marie. “It would be dreadfully difficult —”

  “You are welcome anytime, dear,” Bess cut in with a smile at her nephew.

  Marie sniffed but fell silent. Violet felt her mother had always secretly been slightly intimidated by her sister-in-law, although she would never say as such. Bess was a beauty, her sleek, near jet-black hair pulled away from her face to highlight her defined cheekbones and dancing blue eyes, now surrounded by laugh lines well earned. She had a wide smile and enjoyed the company of others, particularly her family. With no children of her own, she had spent her life spoiling her nieces and nephews. While Violet was pleased her aunt was happy, her one disappointment was the physical distance that now lay between them.

  After dinner, Violet finally had a moment alone with her aunt. She had always felt such a kindred soul in Bess, much more so than her own mother, who spent her days nagging at Violet about one thing or the other. Marie could never understand her eldest daughter, who seemed to despise everything Marie lived for. Violet disliked the airs put on by peers in society, and even more, she loathed all of the pointless conversations that took place at balls, dinners, musicales, and the like. She would much rather be home exploring her father’s library, whether here in the country or at their grand home in London.

  “Oh Aunt Bess, Marco is magnificent,” said Violet with a wistful smile. “You seem so happy together. How lucky you were to find each other.”

  “Yes, Violet,” Bess said. “I was not aware that such happiness could be found in a marriage. I certainly never saw it in my own parents or many members of the ton. When I was young and was married to Robert…” she trailed off and seemed to be considering if she should continue sharing her thoughts with Violet. She shrugged her shoulders, apparently having come to a decision.

  “I was married to Robert because he was a duke and I was the daughter of a duke,” she continued. “He was pleasant enough at the beginning of the marriage. He was polite and seemed to consider my well-being. However, as you know, no children resulted from our marriage. Robert became… rather displeased about this. As a duke, it was of utmost importance that his lineage continue. When it seemed our efforts did not result in any offspring, Robert decided to take his attention away from our marriage bed and into the beds of other women. Not that this is entirely uncommon, of course, but he grew rather cold altogether towards me and by the end of our marriage we hardly spoke.”

  Violet’s eyes grew wide as she took in her aunt, more serious than she had ever seen her before.

  “You must never tell your mother I have shared this with you,” Bess said, now with a bit of a laugh. “She would be utterly scandalized that I am speaking of such things. However, I tell you this, dear Violet, because you are also the daughter of a duke, a young woman coming into her own season. I first married according to what society required of me, and I have now married through following my own heart. Marco may not have a title, but he treasures me above all else and I live every day now knowing how loved I am. I so truly wish someone had given me this advice twenty years ago, so I will tell it to you now. Marry for love, Violet. Find a man who is not just pleasant, is not just accommodating, but who is head over heels in love with you. You only have one life — live it as it’s meant to be lived.”

  Violet nodded. It was advice she would never forget.

  1

  Six years later

  Lady Violet Harrington sighed heavily and tried not to listen to her mo
ther’s continual whining. Turning her head so that she might look out of the window, Violet smiled to herself as she thought about what Thomas might be doing now.

  Thomas Harrington, her younger brother, had astonished them all by declaring that he had left the Royal Navy and gone in search of adventure. He had seemingly found more than adventure, as he had recently visited them in London, shocking them all by arriving with a wife. He had provided their mother with no end of reason to fall into fits, and it was becoming rather trying.

  Violet did smile when she thought of her mother’s reaction when she had read Thomas’ first surprising letter, telling them he was leaving the Navy. Her mother, of course, had been overwhelmed by the news and had collapsed into a chair, murmuring weakly about smelling salts. Violet had obliged, knowing full well that this was something of a charade, although she would admit that the contents of Thomas' letter were certainly unexpected.

  While Thomas had always longed for adventure, he also equally had always been a man filled with a sense of duty, and she had thought that duty lay firmly with the Royal Navy. It was also an escape for him, she was quite sure, for she had seen the way her mother would always attempt to press suitable young ladies onto Thomas, in the hope of finding him an acceptable bride. Thomas had wanted none of it and had used the sea as a reason to remain quite unattached.

  After meeting Thomas’ wife, Violet wondered how much she had affected Thomas' wishes and desires. Eleanor said all the right words and acted quite properly, but there was something in her expression and the glint of her eye that told a different story. No matter, they seemed quite happy together and well suited, and Violet was very pleased for her brother. Together he and his wife were now living off of Thomas’ work as a privateer, instead of following the dictates and rules of both his title and high society.

  While their mother, Marie, had been slightly mollified for a time that now at least one of her children had finally married, Thomas and his new bride had barely been out the door following their short stay before Marie was once again overcome by the scandal he had caused their family. After all, she had another four children who still had yet to be wed themselves.

  “Whatever are we do to?” she said dramatically.

  Sighing to herself, Violet turned around to face her mother. She was growing more than a little weary of hearing the same complaints about her brother, considering that he had chosen a very wise path. Life was too short to be stuck within society’s structures.

  “Mama, that is enough,” she said firmly.

  Her mother, apparently stunned by Violet’s tenacity, stopped short of the dramatics she was acting out in the middle of the drawing room of their London home, and stared at her daughter, her mouth hanging slightly ajar.

  “You have talked incessantly about Thomas,” Violet continued, firmly, standing from the sofa where she had tried to remain focused on her book, unsuccessful in ignoring her mother’s charades. “And that is all I can take. I have heard you complain about what he has done, but I for one think it a very good thing.”

  “A good thing?” her mother spluttered, sounding both horrified and disgusted. “He left the Navy, Violet! And now he is captaining some pirate ship around the ocean, living in squalor in the wild!”

  “He is not a pirate. He is a privateer and lives in Port Royal, an established city,” Violet replied, calmly. “His chosen profession, whatever it is, does not detract from my delight in hearing that he has chosen his own path in this life.” She lifted her shoulders. “If he wants adventure, then why not seek it out?”

  "Because he has duties!" her mother retorted, as two faint spots of color appeared in her cheeks. "He is the second son and – "

  Violet held up one hand and cut her mother off. “He is the second son, Mama. Your oldest son is more than fulfilling his duties.”

  “Daniel is not fulfilling his duties! He is not married and therefore not currently producing any heirs. One can never be too careful! And —”

  With a great effort, Violet managed to stop herself from rolling her eyes. “Mama, Thomas is doing what he wishes to do with his own life. You already have your eldest son doing exactly what he ought, besides finding a wife I will grant you — but is that not enough for you? Daniel will marry eventually. Allow Thomas to do what he thinks is best and be glad that he has not turned into some kind of degenerate gambler or the like, as so many second sons have a habit of doing!”

  That took the fight from her mother, for Violet knew that her words held a great amount of truth. A duke was the highest rank of the peerage, and second sons – and even third sons should there be any – often spent their lives in nothing more than a slow descent of increasing debauchery, having no other purpose than to spend their wealth. It was a relief to her that Thomas had not been so inclined, although her mother still failed to see the blessing that was. In fact, Marie should likely be more worried about Benjamin, but she was still too focused on her elder children.

  “Now,” Violet continued matter of factly. “Why do you not call upon your friend, Lady Mallen? There are more than a few hours remaining of the day and I am quite sure she will be more than happy to listen to your woes.” She held her breath as her mother considered this, a slight frown on her face.

  “I could, I suppose,” the Duchess said, eventually, her voice softer than before. “You simply cannot understand what a trial this is for me, Violet. It may be that Lady Mallen might console me, given that she is a mother also.”

  Violet lifted her chin but did not say a single word, knowing from her mother’s veiled words that Violet herself was something of a disappointment to her mother. Despite being the daughter of a duke and having a good many proposals, Violet had never allowed herself to accept a single one – much to her mother’s dismay. It was an ongoing battle between the two ladies, although Violet had now silently promised herself not to continue in any kind of discourse with her mother about her matrimonial state. Her mother simply did not understand.

  Her father, the Duke of Ware, didn’t seem much concerned about his daughter’s reluctance to marry. Lionel Harrington was a brooding man of few words, and was likely just as pleased he hadn’t had to pay a dowry for his eldest daughter. Violet also knew he silently rejoiced in the fact that she was still at home, keeping more of Marie’s attention directed at someone other than himself.

  It was with relief that Violet watched her mother leave the room in a flurry of skirts, apparently still needled by Violet’s refusal to listen to her frustrations with Thomas any longer. Sighing heavily, Violet rang the bell for tea, before settling herself back in the seat by the fire. The drawing room was a little chilly this afternoon, for the October sunshine did not bring much warmth with it, no matter how hard it shone through the near floor-to-ceiling south-facing windows.

  Picking up her book from where she had left it before her mother had interrupted her, Violet tried hard to focus on what she had been reading but found that she could not concentrate. The arrival of the tea tray forced her to put her book down regardless, and she was left to sit alone, watching the flames of the fire as they crackled and burned.

  It was not that Violet found it difficult to be alone, given that she spent much of her time in her own company. It was not something her mother understood, of course, for she much preferred socializing over all else. It was just another way that they were different.

  Violet sighed to herself, wishing that her mother was a little more understanding. Whilst she had been a devoted mother in many senses, it had been mostly to prepare Violet for matrimony. However, when Violet had refused proposals and finally declared herself unwilling to marry except for love – or at least affection – her mother had taken to her bed for a sennight. It had been an act, of course, in an attempt to manipulate Violet into doing what her mother asked and accepting one of the gentlemen who had sought her hand, but Violet had remained resolute. It had now reached a stalemate, where neither mother nor daughter brought up Violet’s unmarried state, although
Violet was fully aware of her mother’s ongoing disapproval.

  It was not that Violet did not wish to marry or to have children of her own one day, but rather that she refused to wed someone she barely knew. Affection often led to love, she had been told, and having witnessed her own parents' marriage, Violet had vowed to herself that she would never wed someone whom she found barely tolerable. Her parents, in the end, had grown fond of each other, but that was not what Violet wanted and she would not settle for less. She had always remembered her aunt Bess’ words to her, and she vowed to remain true to her resolve.

  Unfortunately, no gentleman seemed interested in Violet anymore. Of course, that was to be expected, given that she had refused so many of them but, on top of that, most gentlemen did not want a lady who sought to read and expand her mind as much as she could – and Violet was exactly that kind of lady. She had been ‘on the shelf' for some time, although she felt quite young in herself, and still, the faint hope of love and matrimony refused to leave her heart.

  “Who knows?” she murmured, still gazing into the fire. “Perhaps I shall meet someone at the ball this evening.” A slightly sad smile curved her lips. “Although I expect not.”

  2

  Violet sat quietly in the corner of the room, watching the whirl of skirts as they passed her by. She had, of course, been asked for a few dances, but her dance card was by no means full. Being the daughter of a duke meant that she would never truly become a wallflower, for there would always be gentlemen who would seek a dance with her, but that gave her very little comfort.