Duchess By Condition (The Wild Brides #11)

Chapter 1

“Now, when she arrives,” said Lord Andrew Hartwell, Viscount of Barchester, “you are to be on your best behavior, Violet. I hope I have made that abundantly clear.”

“You have.” Lady Violet closed her eyes briefly and set down her novel, allowing her father’s words to wash over her.

He had been talking about the imminent arrival of the woman he was to marry for weeks now, and Violet was tired of the whole topic.

She didn’t relish the idea of a stranger coming to live in this house with them.

Though she had never felt close with her father, no matter how hard she tried to win his affection—or at the very least, his tolerance—at least this house was a place she could call her own, a place she felt safe and at home.

“Don’t take that tone with me,” her father said sharply. “And for goodness’ sake, sit up straight. You have to make a good impression on Lady Trevet.”

Laura Trevet was not a lady. She was a commoner—a singer who performed on the stage, as a matter of fact.

That wasn’t a fact that particularly bothered Violet, but she did notice the way her father persisted in applying the title to the woman he had chosen to marry, as if he was trying to convince himself—or someone else—that she was a worthy choice.

Violet didn’t bother to correct him, but she did take note of it.

“You would think,” she said sharply, obliging her father by sitting up a little straighter, “that she would be the one to try to impress me, since she is coming to live in my home.”

“This home belongs to me,” her father snapped. “You had better remember that, girl. You live here at my permission, nothing more.”

Of course, that was true. Her father had the power and authority to make her life miserable, so she had to accommodate him.

She got to her feet and smoothed her skirts, forcing a smile onto her face. “I’m sure it will be lovely having Lady Trevet here with us,” she said.

Her father gave her a suspicious look. “It will if you know what’s good for you,” he said. “Remember what we discussed. You are to treat her politely—affectionately, even, for she is your mother now.”

She is not my mother and never will be. Laura Trevet was only about ten years older than Violet.

The two had met a handful of times, and there had been no affection whatsoever between the two of them, no matter how strongly her father might have wished to make it so.

Violet had never been very good at pretense, unfortunately.

Perhaps her father would have liked her better if she were.

As for Miss Trevet, she made no attempt to disguise the fact that she disliked the fact that her husband-to-be had a daughter.

Though she ought to be happy with what she can get. For a woman of her station to marry a viscount is a rare thing.

Violet shook her head at herself. Such thoughts were beneath her.

She took no issue with her father marrying a commoner.

It wasn’t her station in society that made her unworthy of this marriage.

It was her character. Her air of entitlement.

The way she walked into every situation as though she belonged there—and nobody else did.

She still recalled the day they had first met.

Her father had brought Miss Trevet over to the house for dinner, accompanied by her cousin.

The cousin had been silent the whole time, watching, taking things in without making any comments.

It was Miss Trevet who had done most of the talking, though not at all to Violet, who she had all but ignored.

She had ordered the servants around, made remarks about the food not being up to her standards, and given advice on the decor that nobody had asked for.

Somehow, her father had not been put off by the whole thing—indeed, he’d spent the night smiling from ear to ear, as if this was something he wanted.

Well, she is very pretty. And he probably never believed he would marry again, after the death of my mother.

He must love her. It’s the only thing that makes sense…

though I’d be surprised if her feelings for him are as strong.

I’m more willing to believe that she’s in this for social advancement than for love.

“Ah,” her father said, turning away at the sound of a knock at the door.

“That’s her now. Remember not to shame me in any way, Violet.

” He strode out into the foyer to greet their guest, leaving Violet alone in the sitting room.

She knew her father would likely have wanted her to go along, to say good morning to the woman who was to be joining their family, but he hadn’t asked for that.

If he wasn’t going to ask, she wasn’t going to feel compelled to offer.

She returned to her seat instead and picked up the book she had been reading. A moment later, she heard the loud, shrill tones of Miss Trevet’s voice coming from the foyer, drawing closer. She steeled her nerves. She would have to get through this—there was no alternative.

She kept her head down as the footsteps of her father and Miss Trevet entered the room. They stopped walking. Their voices stopped, too, and an air of expectation settled around Violet. She couldn’t help feeling that the two of them were waiting for something.

Well, she wouldn’t give it to them. They could speak to her first, or, preferably, not at all. She had done nothing wrong to either of them.

It was Miss Trevet who broke the silence, in her usual imperious tone. “Andrew,” she said sharply, “I thought you and I had discussed this. I thought we had come to an agreement.”

“We—well, we have.”

“And so what is she still doing here?” Miss Trevet demanded.

Violet’s head rose at that—it was impossible, now to pretend she wasn’t listening. “Are you speaking of me?”

“Of course we’re speaking of you,” Miss Trevet said disdainfully. “Who else did you think we might have been discussing? And perhaps you can answer the question, if your father is unable to do so. What are you still doing here?”

“I live here.” Violet was mystified. “And for that matter, Miss Trevet, you do not yer call this house your home, so to question my presence seems a bit much.”

“I will be lady of the house before long,” Miss Trevet said. “Andrew—I can’t understand this. You and I did have an agreement. Am I to believe you aren’t good for your word?”

“Violet,” her father said, “you and I had better talk.”

“Yes, I think that would be wise,” Violet agreed, doing her best to hide the way her heart was pounding. She didn’t want him to know that she was nervous, that Miss Trevet’s words had had the desired effect on her. She set her book aside, rose from her chair, and went to her father.

Miss Trevet stayed where she was.

Violet refused to so much as look in her direction.

“Father,” she said, “if you wish to have a discussion with me then let us take it somewhere private. I know you and Miss Trevet are to be married, but at present she is not a part of our family. If you have made a promise to her that I need to know about, you owe it to me to tell me privately.”

Her father scowled. “I don’t know how you can speak about me owing you anything. Haven’t I given you everything you have? I’ve fed you and kept you all your life—well beyond when I should have been able to see you married to someone who would take you off my hands, by the way.”

“Your father is right,” Miss Trevet chimed in. “You’re far too old to be living here unmarried.”

“You’re unmarried,” Violet pointed out. “And ten years my senior.”

Miss Trevet’s jaw dropped. “Are you going to permit her to speak to me that way, Andrew?”

“No.” Violet’s father took her by the shoulder, his grip so firm that it bordered on painful, and led her away. Violet refused to let the pain show on her face. She gritted her teeth and waited, and after a moment her father let her go.

“What did we just discuss?” he hissed. “What did we talk about? You’re not to talk to Lady Trevet that way. You’re to show her respect.”

“What does she mean? What promise is she talking about?”

Her father sighed. “You’re not going to be able to live here anymore, Violet.”

Violet’s head spun. “What are you—what?”

“You can’t stay here. Lady Trevet has no desire to play mother to a daughter that isn’t hers, and honestly, who could blame her? Of course she doesn’t want you here. She shouldn’t have to have you here.”

“I don’t understand.” Violet needed to sit down, but her father had led her away from her chair. There was a wall nearby, and she braced her hand against it. “Where am I to go? This is my home. You getting married doesn’t—doesn’t change that fact.”

“Yes, it does.” Her father reached into his pocket and pulled out a piece of paper, folded in half. He handed it to her. “This is your Aunt Margaret’s will. Your mother’s sister.”

Aunt Margaret. Violet hadn’t seen the woman in years, but in her childhood—before her mother’s death—the two of them had been close. “I didn’t realize she had died…”

“I received this a month ago,” her father said.

Her temper flared. “You never said anything to me? Why not?”

“I’m telling you now,” he told her. He held up the letter. “You and I together have been left the Westlake Estate.”

“I…both of us? How can I inherit?”

“You can inherit because my name is on it as well,” her father told her. “And I’m prepared to give the estate in its entirety to you. It will be all yours, Violet, and all I ask of you is that you go and live there on your own so that I may marry and live in peace.”

“You’re trying to get rid of me,” she realized. “You wish to pretend you’d never had a daughter at all. That you had never been married to my mother.”

“I wish to start anew with Lady Trevet,” her father said stiffly. “I am entitled to that. You ought to be thankful that you have somewhere to go.” He handed her the piece of paper.

She took it, feeling numb. “This was your promise,” she murmured. “That you would get rid of me.”

“You may have three days,” her father said. “Lady Trevet would prefer that you leave at once, of course, but I am not so cruel as that.”

“No. Not so cruel as that.”

He looked away from her. “Three days,” he repeated. “Then I expect you to be out of this house for good, and on your way to Westlake. I don’t think this is too much to ask of you. You may even take your lady’s maid with you. I will release her from her contract.”

Violet had no idea how she was to pay Georgina, but at least she had the hope of not being completely on her own. Still, she wasn’t about to offer her father any thanks for putting her in this situation.

She kept her back stiff and straight as she walked from the room. The only sign of her emotional distress was the way the paper crumpled in her hand as she took her leave.

Behind her, she could hear the shrill sound of Miss Trevet laughing at her, but Violet refused to turn back.