by Dalia Wright
Clearing her throat she asked in a cheerful voice, “Shall we continue our ride?”
“And you’re sure there’s no other options for you? What if someone were to want you for love?”
“Trust me,” Violet said bitterly, “no man will want me for love; not given my actions. Race you!”
She was off like a shot, thankful the conversation had come to an end.
They spent a glorious evening together rambling through the woods, engrossed in conversation about everything under the sun, except their personal lives. Devon even managed to get them a picnic supper from an inn in town. They supped on cold chicken, bread and wine, sitting on fallen logs in the woods. As evening gave way to night, Devon built them a small fire and somehow she ended up in his arms. He undressed her slowly and made love to her tenderly. Violet couldn’t recall ever feeling so content and so deliriously happy. In that moment she realized the unthinkable had happened. She had fallen in love with Devon. Her stepson-to-be. She had no illusions about how he felt about her; she knew him well enough to know she was simply another notch on his belt of endless conquests.
By the time they stirred, the sun had long set. She had missed supper at the house and knew the Duke would be furious. Pulling on her clothes, Violet rushed to her horse.
“Get on my horse, I’ll get you home quicker,” Devon said and pulled her on to his saddle. He placed her in front of him and held her snugly against his chest. He urged the horse to a fast gallop and in less than a half a hour he had her home. The house was drenched in darkness, and Violet sighed in relief that nobody was waiting up for her. Maybe her disappearance hadn’t been noticed.
Devon kissed her once more before placing her on the ground.
“I’ll see you at the wedding, Violet. I don’t think it’s a good idea to see each other before that.”
“I understand.”
“You’re still determined to go through with this?”
“Yes.” She replied with more conviction than she felt. All she wanted in that moment was to run away with Devon on his horse.
“If you change your mind for any reason, I’m staying at the hotel in town. Come to me anytime.”
Violet nodded and thanked him before slipping into the house through the back doors. Everything was still and quiet. She tiptoed up the stairs and down the hall and entered her bedroom. Her body ached with exhaustion; it had been a long and eventful day. Intent on unbuttoning her dress, she didn’t notice the man sitting on her bed. When she lit the lamp she was greeted by the sight of the Duke’s fearsome face glowering at her.
“Oh!” she gasped and chocked back the scream lurking in her throat.
“Where have you been?” The Duke’s voice was deathly calm, his tone one she had never heard before. His eyes narrowed in anger and distaste and Violet had a feeling something terrible was about to happen.
She opened her mouth to respond but didn’t get a chance - a hard shove sent her flying across the room. The Duke walked over to where she lay sprawled on the ground and spit near her feet.
“You dirty whore, you were with another man weren’t you?”
He took her silence as assent and kicked her again.
“There’s nothing to stop me from ripping off your clothes and taking you right here and right now. But you smell like another man’s filth. You can rest assured I’ll be visiting you soon and it won’t be pleasant.”
He left her on the floor, doubled over in pain, tears streaming down her cheeks. She had to keep thinking of Eliza to remind herself why she was doing this. And besides, after what she had done with Devon, didn’t she deserve much worse?
The next morning she went down to breakfast filled with trepidation at the idea of facing the Duke. But she knew she had to start playing her part as the proper and devoted wife, so she dressed well and entered the breakfast room with a cheerful smile on her face only to find it completely empty.
“He’s gone to the city, my lady.” The butler had followed her in and started to set up a place for her at the table.
Violet wasn’t sure she had heard properly.
“I’m sorry?”
“The Duke is gone to the city and will only be back a few days before the wedding. He said he had some business to take care of.”
“And the twins?”
“Still sleeping, I imagine.”
“Thank you, Jarvis.”
He gave her a slight bow and melted out of the room as silently as he had come in, leaving Violet to enjoy her breakfast in peace, unaware of the tremendous relief she was feeling at the unexpected reprieve.
CHAPTER EIGHT:
He came back two days later and although he made no mention of their last encounter, he made it a point to visit her room on his first night back. Violet knew she had no choice but to accept his advances, so she lay quietly in bed and waited for him to get on with his business. But instead of sleeping with her, he forced her to strip naked before he touched her all over, a leery smile on his wrinkled face as he pinched, fondled and squeezed her naked body. Having humiliated her, he left her bedroom and didn’t return again. Demeaned as she was, Violet couldn’t get herself to back out of her agreement because Eliza was all she could think of.
The wedding was only a few days away and the Duke still made no mention of bringing Eliza to the house and Violet couldn’t help but recall Devon’s words. As part of their agreement, Violet had requested that Eliza be installed in the home before the wedding so she could be a part of the celebrations, and so that she could begin her new life as the Duchesse with her daughter at her side. And now, more than ever, given the complexity of the emotions Violet was experiencing, she needed a reminder of why she was doing this, who she was going through this nightmare for. Having lived in the Duke’s household for a few weeks and since witnessing the ugliness in him, Violet had a pretty clear idea of what kind of life was waiting for her as his wife. But she could deal with all of it - the nightly visits which could only be described as rape, the angry outbursts, and the physical assaults - if she could only get Eliza back and give her the stability and security which came with a good name rather than the title of a bastard.
The next morning, after breakfast, Violet decided to tackle the issue head on. She found the Duke in his study, engrossed in estate reports. He seemed annoyed at the intrusion and she could tell from the way he looked at her that he was already in a foul mood. But there was no going back at this point, no matter how upset he may be. Instead of skirting around the subject, she decided to be blunt.
“I wanted to know when Eliza would be arriving.”
“Who?”
“My daughter? We had an agreement - she was to be settled in before the wedding and our wedding is only two days away. So I would like her to be brought here by this evening.” Violet strove to keep her voice even and confident; she had to keep reminding herself she was only asking for what he had already committed to.
“She’ll be brought here when I choose,” he stated flatly. Something in the tone of his voice made Violet feel suspicious and she pressed on.
“And when will that be?”
“When I decide it’s time.”
“We had an understanding. When we discussed the wedding details, I only consented to this because you promised you would bring my daughter back to me.”
At her words, the Duke threw back his head and laughed a cruel little laugh.
“You consented to marry me? YOU!”
He walked around his heavy, oak desk and approached Violet; he grabbed her face in one bony hand and squeezed hard.
“You are nothing but used up trash. By some miracle you have a beautiful face, but on the inside you are nothing but trash. You aren’t doing me any favours; I am the one doing you a favour and don’t you ever forget it. After this wedding, you’ll be a Duchesse - people won’t dare gossip about you anymore, and for that you should be grateful. Did you really think I was going to sully my reputation and title by bringing in a bastard into this home? And raising the g
uttersnipe as my own? Did you think me that foolish?”
As the meaning of his words sunk in, Violet realized with blinding clarity that she had been duped from the beginning.
“You lied to me. You never had any intention of bringing Eliza back.”
“Of course not.”
“Then why go through with this charade?”
“I wanted a beautiful wife, and your body filled me with lust. Your whore’s body continues to fill me with lust. But that’s all I want from you. I’ve bought and paid for you like a common whore. But an expensive one.”
Violet moved away from his grasp and cried out,
“You liar! I thought you were a man of honour. I thought your word had more value, but I see now you’re nothing but a filthy liar and I will be damned if I go through with this wedding now.”
The Duke leapt towards her, quicker on his feet than she had ever seen him and slapped her hard across the face. The second blow landed before she could recover from the first.
“You dirty, dirty whore. Don’t you ever question me again.”
His jowls were quivering in anger, and Violet was sure he was going to strike her again, but he seemed to think better of it and tore at her gown instead. In one pull the delicate threading came apart leaving her bodice gaping and torn.
“Everything you have, everything you own belongs to me and don’t you forget it.”
Violet’s fears were quickly overcome by a surge of anger, which coursed through her body - she would bow down no more! Now that she knew what his intentions were in regards to Eliza, she had no intention of going through this sham of a marriage. And not to a man who had so aptly shown his true colours. Without another word, she pivoted on her heel and ran out of the study, holding her torn bodice together. The twins were loitering around the hallway and it was clear from the expressions on their faces they had heard the whole exchange.
Violet glared at them defiantly, expecting some smug comment or a sly smile, but instead she was met with sympathetic looks. Marcy even took a step forward as though to console her but Violet couldn’t bear their pity just now. Her eyes brimming with tears, she blindly went out of the first set of doors she could find and ended up near the stables. A wild desire to put as much distance as possible between the house and herself led her into the stables and to her horse. She inhaled his familiar scent and mounted him in one bound. Minutes later she was galloping away as fast as could with no real destination in mind. The further she got from the house the easier it became to breathe. Once she had calmed down, she realized she was almost at the outskirts of town and rapidly approaching a very familiar figure. She pulled on the reins sharply to direct Noble a different way but it was too late - Devon had already seen her and was coming towards her. Exhaustion overtook her and all the fight seemed to have drained away from her body; she couldn’t muster the energy to run away from him so she stayed put, seated helplessly on the horse. As Devon took in her dishevelled appearance, the red marks on her cheeks and the torn dress, his face changed from concern to anger.
“My father,” he stated grimly.
Violet didn’t reply and grappled futilely with the torn bodice instead.
With infinite tenderness, Devon lifted her down from the horse and wrapped his cloak around her. He tucked loose tendrils of hair behind her ears and guided her towards the hotel where Violet knew he had a suite of rooms. She didn’t protest because the only thing she wanted in that moment was to be held and loved by him.
They made love furiously and desperately, clinging to each other and reached their orgasms swiftly. Once all the emotions were released, Violet felt free and at peace. And she decided in that moment she owed Devon the truth. Regardless of how he would feel about her once he knew about Eliza, she couldn’t and wouldn’t hide this from him any longer because she loved him and it didn’t matter whether he loved her back or not.
CHAPTER NINE:
Haltingly, hesitating slightly, she recounted the story of her tryst with William and Eliza’s birth. She told him about the agreement she had struck with his father and explained how it was the only way to get her daughter back and give her a respectable upbringing. And finished by divulging her most recent encounter with his father and how he had flatly refused to live up to his word. To her surprise, Devon didn’t say much save asking a question here and there. Once she was done, he gathered her into his arms, and kissed her forehead.
“I’m sorry you had to go through so much pain,” he whispered. “As for my father I promise you, we’ll find some way around this. A child needs its mother.”
He kissed her softly again and caressed her bare arms, unknowingly providing her with an infinite amount of comfort and love.
Wrapped up in each other’s arms, feeling serene, Violet and Devon couldn’t have known that what they were experiencing was the calm before a violent storm swept through. The magical moments of tenderness came to an abrupt end as the door to Devon’s room was shot open. They couldn’t see who it was since they were in the bedroom, but there was no mistaking the familiar heavy tread of the Duke. Within seconds Devon had jumped out of bed and pulled on his pants while simultaneously reaching for his own gun.
“Get dressed if you must but don’t come out,” Devon instructed.
Terrified and shaking in her skin all Violet could do was nod. She slid out of the bed, the covers wrapped snugly around her body while she darted to and fro looking for her clothes, as Devon went to confront his father. They started arguing immediately. Even though she couldn’t hear what was being said clearly, she could tell from the tone of the Duke’s voice that his anger had gone beyond anything she had ever experienced herself. He sounded like a crazed mad man, intent on murderous revenge. Fear gripped Violet’s heart; he had come here armed - could he possibly mean to harm his own son? A shot rang out, followed by the sound of Devon’s voice muffled with pain. Choosing to disregard his instructions, Violet was hurriedly pulling her dress over her head, not bothering with undergarments, when the Duke came barging into the bedroom. He took in everything with one glance: her half dressed state, the frilly white undergarments scattered on the floor, and the rumpled sheets on the bed.
“YOU WHORE!” he screamed. “YOU FLITHY, FILTHY WHORE.” He screamed again as he advanced towards her, his gun pointed straight at her face.
Violet didn’t doubt for a second he meant to kill her.
“How dare you betray the promise you made to me?”
“There is no promise between us,” Violet said simply. Even as her eyes searched anxiously beyond the bedroom door for Devon, she felt an overwhelming calmness sweep over her. Now that she was facing certain death, fear of the unknown had disappeared and she was determined to face the Duke with strength and courage. She would never give him the satisfaction of seeing her cower or beg for her life. The anxiety she felt was for Devon - had he really killed his son?
“He won’t be able to protect you anymore,” the Duke said with a grim smile of satisfaction.
“You killed him?”
But he ignored her question.
“You will honour your promise.”
“Since you had no intention of honouring your word regarding Eliza, I see no reason to uphold my end either.”
The Duke marched towards her and grabbed her by the wrist, twisting it until the flesh burned.
“Then I will kill you.”
“I would rather die than be your wife!”
“My wife? Surely you jest,” he sneered, his vile breath making Violet want to gag.
“You don’t deserve that honour anymore. I think you deserve a fate far worse than death - dying would be too easy. I’m going to keep you locked up as my mistress; use you as I please, whenever I please.”
“You can’t do that!”
“Oh my dear, there’s a great many things I can do; you are the powerless pawn.”
“You’re a vile, despicable man.”
Instead of responding, the Duke advanced towards her, his eyes
roving hungrily over her body, and Violet had no doubts about his intentions. She backed away from him feeling like a trapped animal with no way out.
He ran a sweaty hand across her neck, dipping a finger into her partially exposed cleavage. Violet flinched and pushed him away.
“I don’t think so. You’re my whore and I’ll do whatever I please. Now get down on your knees.”
When she didn’t budge, he gripped her shoulder and tried to force her down. She resisted with all her strength but knew she was at his mercy. A commotion near the door made them both turn, and to Violet’s immense relief Devon stood at the doorway. A bleeding, clearly wounded Devon, but at least he was alive.
“Devon!” Violet’s joyful cry distracted the Duke long enough so she could get away from his grip. To her horror he pulled out his gun and aimed it towards Devon.
“I guess one shot wasn’t enough.”
Violet darted behind him and pushed at his arm trying to deflect his aim.
“NO! Please don’t!”
The Duke wavered unsteadily on his feet for a brief moment and in that moment Devon launched himself towards his father to disarm him. The two men grappled on the floor while Violet watched in horror. She knew this would not end well. She debated going to get help but was terrified of what would happen if she left. A moment later she heard the gun being cocked and a shot was fired. It echoed eerily throughout the bedroom as bright, red blood pooled all over the floor and both men lay still. A hand flew to her mouth and Violet choked back a sob, certain Devon had been killed. She flew towards him and cradled his head on her lap while her hands searched his body for the wound to stem the flow of blood. As she probed around his stomach he murmured.
“A little lower please.”
It took Violet a few seconds to process that Devon had just spoken and few more seconds to realize he was teasing her.
“You’re alive!” she cried out looking down at his face. He grinned broadly and his eyes sparkled with mischief. Feeling overwhelming relief, Violet peppered his face with kisses. As she helped Devon to his feet, they both looked over towards the Duke lying face down in a pool of blood. He hadn’t moved at all.
