‘True, there is sure to be a great deal of inspiration to be found in a royal wedding,’ Lily said happily. ‘You will want some kind of artistic gown and the most interesting flower arrangements, no fusty old lilies. But I hear the Prince and the Grand Duchess are having two ceremonies! The Orthodox one and an Anglican one led by Dean Stanley. Queen Victoria insists on it.’
‘I think one should do it for me,’ William said.
‘And then you will be our neighbours! How grand it will all be,’ Lily said. The butler came in with the champagne and Lily handed it around as Aidan poured. ‘To true love, yes?’
‘To finding one’s real self,’ Violet answered.
She took a sip of the delicious, bubbling golden liquid and wished she could gulp it down. She needed a steadying hand now. This was all harder than she had thought it would be. Especially with William there beside her, so close, yet still so far away. So warm and real, yet such a dream.
* * *
As Lily chattered about the forthcoming journey to St Petersburg and Aidan refilled the champagne glasses, the butler appeared at the drawing room door again. Behind him, in the entrance hall, they could hear some kind of commotion, a clatter, a cry.
‘I beg your pardon, Your Grace,’ he said. ‘But it seems there are some unexpected guests.’
‘Guests?’ Lily said with a laugh. ‘Well, who could it be? The Queen? Princess Alexandra? Anything is possible today.’
‘It’s us, my darlin’!’ a sweet voice, dripping with Southern magnolias, cried. Violet shot to her feet, going cold all over, as their mother appeared in the doorway. It was the indomitable Stella Wilkins, so small and lithe in her fur-edged cloak with a feathered hat on her golden curls. Her smile was wide and sparkling. Right there, like a dream. Or a nightmare.
Violet was sure she was imagining things. Had she actually drunk too much champagne? But Lily looked just as shocked as Violet felt and Stella rushed in amid a cloud of lilac scent to kiss Lily’s cheeks. She turned to Violet, her smile just flickering the merest bit. ‘How happy I am to see my beautiful daughters again. And I brought you a surprise, Violet!’
‘I—are you not the surprise, Mother?’ Violet gasped.
Stella laughed, like silvery bells. ‘Oh, I did want to surprise you, of course. It’s all such fun. We sailed on the France last week, that new ship, you know, so luxurious and fast.’
‘We, Mother?’ Lily said.
Stella turned and waved at the doorway. Their father stood there, Coleman Wilkins, ‘Old King Coal’, as large and hearty and bluff as ever in his brown overcoat, sweeping off his hat to reveal his halo of wispy hair. ‘Hello, my prettiest girls!’ he boomed.
And behind him was—Harold Rogers. As thin as their father was portly, he was pale beneath too-dark hair, his eyes watchful. He was as beaky as a buzzard, she thought. He smiled at Violet, too brightly for her taste, too—too knowing.
Violet reached again for William, blindly, instinctively, and he caught her hand in his. She suddenly felt steadier with him beside her.
‘And Mr Rogers, here to claim his bride,’ Stella said, steel under the flowers of her voice. ‘But I see we are already celebrating something! Champagne in the afternoon, Lily darlin’? I thought you English always had tea?’
‘It’s true champagne is not our usual, but Violet had such good news,’ Lily said. ‘She has become engaged to Aidan’s friend and neighbour. This is William, the Duke of Charteris. William, these are—our parents.’
‘How do you do,’ William said with a bow to Stella. He still held Violet’s hand, as if he sensed she needed him in that moment. ‘I am terribly sorry I haven’t yet written to you, Mr Wilkins, as I should have. This has been rather sudden and I was so anxious to secure your daughter’s hand that I turned to Aidan for permission first. I realise you do not yet know me, but I hope now you are here I may reassure you.’
He seemed to be the only steady, calm person left in the room. Even Violet’s mother, always so supremely confident, so in control, so organising of everyone’s lives, looked flummoxed. Her pink lips parted. Her cheeks flushed rose-red, her gaze darting between William and Violet.
‘You’re engaged to a—a duke, Violet?’ she whispered. ‘There’s to be another duchess in the family? No one has done a double like this that I know.’
So Lily had been right. Being a double duchess-mother seemed to spark Stella’s interest immediately. But Violet’s father did not seem so very convinced. He scowled at them darkly and she almost wanted to run and hide under a desk, as she had when she was a child.
‘Violet, I am quite sure we wrote to you that Harold here had asked for your hand,’ Coleman said sternly. ‘It was all most satisfactorily arranged.’
Violet glanced at Harold Rogers, who watched her with narrowed eyes, very still and silent. ‘I’m sorry, Papa. But my feelings for William had already...’
‘Your feelings?’ Coleman snapped. He had always been a distant but indulgent father most of the time, leaving the strictness to his wife and lavishing his girls with gifts whenever he was home, which was rarely. But when he did make an order, he expected it to be followed immediately. He looked shocked and furious now that one of his daughters would flout that. ‘Feelings don’t come into business, Violet. Business that has kept you and your sisters in diamonds and furs all these years.’
‘Coleman,’ Harold said quietly. ‘I am sure this is not the moment. We’re obviously interrupting a time of celebration.’
‘I’d certainly like a bit of that champagne, Lily darlin’,’ Stella said.
Coleman nodded brusquely and turned to scowl at William. ‘May I have a word with you, then, Your Grace? In private?’
‘Certainly, sir,’ William said. For some reason, Violet couldn’t quite let go of his hand. He gave her a small smile and whispered, ‘So that is...er...your almost-fiancé?’
Violet nodded. ‘Isn’t he quite ancient?’
‘And dreadful. Don’t worry. We have a bargain, right?’
A bargain. That was all.
‘You can always trust me to keep my word, Violet. Your father might be the richest man in New York...’
‘Fourth-richest.’
‘Well, first or fourth, he doesn’t frighten me. Trust me.’
Violet looked up into his green eyes, green as springtime, clear as a mountain stream, and somehow she realised she could trust him. He had a quiet inner strength that was like huddling close to a fire in winter.
‘Shall we use my library for this conversation, then?’ Aidan said.
She nodded and let him go. He and her father, along with Aidan and Harold Rogers, vanished to the library, and Violet’s mother plopped down next to her daughter with a glass of champagne.
‘Another duke!’ She sighed. ‘Just imagine. How ever did you do it, Violet?’
Violet almost laughed. At least her mother seemed to be coming over to her side. Considering Violet had inherited her own sense of determination from her wilful mother, that was no small thing.
But she still didn’t like that gleam in Harold’s eyes as he watched her. Not at all.
* * *
‘Only a trial, private engagement,’ Coleman said angrily, his voice blurry behind the closed door as Violet strained to hear more. ‘I know you have a high-and-mighty title, but I have plans for my daughter and surely her mother and I know her best...’
Charteris’s reply was indistinguishable.
Violet slowly backed away from the library door and tiptoed towards the drawing room. She heard her mother and Lily chattering there, but she couldn’t face them and their happy wedding plans yet, couldn’t sit and smile and nod about veils and bouquets. So much had happened so quickly and her head was whirling.
She ducked into a small breakfast room, which was silent and shadowed at that hour, the heavy yellow satin curtains drawn over the windows.
She sank down into one of the chairs, her legs shaking. So, she was engaged now. She had bought a bit of time. How would she make the most of it? How would she make her dreams come true?
And how would she survive being close to the Duke—William—for so long? When he was close, he was all she could think about, curse him.
But she wasn’t alone in the quiet very long. She heard a low, rough cough and a rustle at the door. She twisted her head around to see Harold Rogers there, watching her. How long had he been lurking? She shot to her feet, twisting her hands in the folds of her striped morning skirt as she made herself smile. Made herself appear oblivious. She wouldn’t let him see how unsettled she really felt.
There was no real reason for him to ‘unsettle’ her, she thought, surely. On the occasions when he had come to their houses in America, he had seemed quiet, watchful, polite enough. He was her father’s associate. She had never thought he would show an interest in her. Why would he? He didn’t need her money; he was rich on his own. If he wanted a family, a pretty wife, surely he could find one, someone much prettier and more desperate than Violet. Money could do that.
Yet here he was, come all the way to England to see her, and her father seemed upset at the overturning of his marital plans for her. Much more upset than she might have expected. Why was that?
‘Mr Rogers,’ she said, as he stared at her.
‘I’m sure you could call me Harold, my dear, after all this time,’ he said softly. ‘I thought we knew each other quite well.’
‘Did we?’ Violet said, puzzled. She couldn’t remember any private conversations with the man at all.
‘Of course. My plans with your father were so carefully laid, I was sure you would welcome them. Welcome me.’ He moved closer, so slowly, so still, it was almost like watching a ghost glide inexorably towards her. ‘Yet now I hear I must wish you happy.’
Violet backed away until she bumped into the table edge. He stood so close in that small room that he blocked her path to the door. ‘I’m sorry, but I had no idea of my father’s plans, or that you meant to propose to me,’ she said. ‘I truly never saw you in that light.’
‘Never? Oh, my dear, you do protest too much. I’m sure you remember our dance at Newport.’
Violet didn’t, actually, but she always tried to forget about Newport life when she wasn’t forced to be there. The constant changing of clothes, the tennis games and carriage drives and teas and balls, when she longed to run on the beach. She thought hard and remembered a party before they had left for Europe, before Lily married. It all seemed so long ago. Violet hadn’t been officially ‘out’, but she was still brought down to greet guests at parties and she had waltzed with Mr Rogers that evening. It had been stiff, slow, strange. The way he’d looked at her...
She shook her head. No wonder she wanted to forget it.
‘I was very careful over how I showed my feelings,’ he said, moving even closer. ‘You were quite young then. But I was assured you felt the same, my dear Violet.’
Violet was deeply irritated at being called ‘dear’ by him. She stood up very straight, her shoulders stiff. ‘I had no idea of any such thing. And I am in love with someone else.’
He smiled, as one would to a stubborn child or pony. ‘Dazzled by a title, perhaps, as ladies tend to be, but that is no life for you. I know, deep down, how suited we are to one another. How very good we would be together.’
Violet had heard enough. ‘I am engaged,’ she said and tried to push past him.
To her shock, he grabbed her arm, hard, and pulled her off balance against him. She stumbled and his lips came down on hers. It was so quick she barely knew what was happening, and it was bruising and rough. She tried to shove him away, cold panic threatening to wash over her. Run! her mind screamed, but she was frozen. How could such a thing be happening?
Suddenly, he was away from her, stumbling himself. She backed away, rubbing the edge of her hand over her lips, and saw it was William who had pulled Rogers from her. He was very still, his jaw stiff, his eyes glowing in that way she had come to long for—and also fear. William was not a man to be trifled with.
Rogers righted himself and smiled smugly. ‘I was just wishing my old friend happy, Your Grace. A friendly kiss of congratulations. You are very fortunate.’
‘So I am,’ William said, so quiet, so lethal. Once she’d believed him to be boring, but he was just restrained, reserved, and when that was unleashed she knew the world would shiver. ‘And I do look after those I care about. I give you fair warning to show respect to my fiancée in the future—at all times.’
‘Oh, no need for that. Ducal commands don’t work on Americans, do they? It was merely a kiss—from her to me. You may find she will not be your fiancée for very long, especially if you don’t take care.’ He gave one more cold smile and marched out of the room, the door clicking behind him.
Violet sat down again and wished she could stop shaking, wished she could feel warm again. William went to the sideboard where a carafe of water sat, poured out a glass and pressed it gently into her hand.
‘It’s not brandy, but it will help for now,’ he said. ‘Take a sip, then breathe deeply. He’s gone now and I will make sure he doesn’t come back.’
Violet was touched by his quiet consideration, and his calmness steadied her. ‘Thank you,’ she murmured. She did as he said, breathing steadily, as deeply as her tightly laced bodice allowed, and she found it did help. She was starting to feel angry again rather than scared. ‘I didn’t kiss him!’
‘I know,’ he said, and the simple confidence in those words gave her even more strength.
‘I never thought of him in that way. I have no idea why he would think of me like that! He’s richer than I am.’
William sat down beside her, so close but not touching, just staying with her. ‘You think your money is the only reason someone would want you?’
‘W-well...’ Violet stammered. ‘It’s certainly a consideration. I have red hair and I’m not very ladylike.’
He laughed. ‘Red hair is quite extraordinary and you have great spirit.’
‘Do I?’ Violet considered this. She supposed she did, though it was not the kind of spirit that usually attracted a man. She was independent and tended to act sometimes without considering, though she was working on reining that in. But she didn’t want to be very different from how she was and William didn’t seem to mind that. It was very strange. ‘Be careful, William. I might start to think you rather like me.’
‘I do like you. Sometimes.’ He poured her more water and smiled. ‘You did say you needed a way out of engaging yourself to this Mr Rogers. I see now that was very true.’
‘And you said you wanted to thank me for warning you about Miss Parker-Parks.’
‘Yes. No Mr Rogers for you, no Miss Parker-Parks for me. Your father has agreed to a trial engagement between us, informal arrangements only until after the royal wedding, but I think we are safe enough for now.’
Safe. Yes, she did feel safe now—with him. She would never have imagined it before, that he would be her steadiest friend. The one she could be honest with, as she could with no one else right now. ‘Thank you.’
He nodded. ‘Shall we go to the drawing room? If you feel ready. I think your father and Mr Rogers were going to leave for their hotel.’
Violet nodded. ‘Yes. You really are very kind, William, no matter how you try to hide it. Rather a Galahad.’
A dull flush spread over his sharp cheekbones, fascinating her. ‘What are fiancés for, then? Just don’t tell anybody. You would quite ruin my fierce reputation.’
Chapter Nine
‘I can’t believe we’ve actually been invited on to the royal train!’ Violet exclaimed, watching the city flash past their carriage window as they made their way to the station. It had been quite the whirlwind in the last few days. Despite the fact that it was a
n ‘informal’ engagement, word had leaked out and letters and cards had flooded into Lily’s house, along with flowers and invitations. Their father and Mr Rogers had luckily left London for urgent business in Paris, but their mother had stayed behind to shop on Bond Street and chatter more about lace. She and Lily were quite enthralled with the Westminster Abbey idea now.
Even such tiresome talk couldn’t dampen Violet’s enthusiasm today, though. Despite the grand, gilded boredom of her Court presentation and the dinner at Marlborough House, she was still quite fascinated by the idea of royalty. An actual journey on the royal train to Russia seemed very glamorous. And there was the possible chance to talk more with Prince Alfred about photography. It was a marvellous opportunity.
The chance to spend more time with William, on a quiet train with nothing to do but talk and look at him, had nothing to do with it, of course. Nothing at all. At all.
She peeked over at him where he sat beside her on the tufted velvet seat. She couldn’t read his thoughts—he was once again the remote Duke, his face shadowed by the brim of his hat.
Lily sat across from them; Aidan would follow to St Petersburg in a few days because of business at his estate. Lily had cried bitterly when she left the baby with his nurse, but now she looked excited just like Violet.
‘Do we have you to thank for the invitation, William?’ Violet said. His shoulder brushed against hers as the carriage lurched, making her shiver. ‘Ducal influence, politics, all of that? I hear the Prince of Wales has his own card room on the train. Scandalous. It sounds racy for you.’
‘Because I hate fun?’ he said, laughter hiding in his voice.
‘Exactly so,’ Violet said. ‘And it sounds as if the Prince’s life is nothing but fun. Do you not disapprove?’
‘Violet!’ Lily cried. ‘Of course William likes fun. Or he wouldn’t like you.’
Violet looked up at him. ‘Do you like me, then?’
Playing the Duke's Fiancée--A Victorian Historical Romance Page 10
