Chapter Nineteen
Violet took her time in Rhys’s spacious bath.
Beautiful cerulean tile in a herringbone pattern covered the floor.
On one side was a large copper tub under a window that looked out onto the back garden.
Violet used the chamber pot, and then she took time to finger-comb her tangled hair as best she could and made a long braid down over one shoulder to tame it.
Looking down, she grimaced. She couldn’t believe she had fled the house in her nightclothes.
She simply hadn’t been thinking straight.
The horror of the night’s events had fully overwhelmed her, and she had needed to escape somewhere safe.
Heading downstairs, she examined her instincts to come here for safety. Perhaps it was because Rhys was so strong and deadly. Or perhaps it was the way that he had so fiercely protected her in the alley last week. He would slay any demons that chased her.
As she entered the kitchen, Rhys crossed to her and grasped her hands, looking down at her with serious eyes. “You have guests.” He glanced over his shoulder. “They want to make sure you are all right. But you don’t have to see anyone if you are not ready.”
Violet peered over his shoulder. Ginny and Jim stood just inside the back door. The concern on their faces sent a pang of guilt straight through her. She shook her head. “No, it’s all right.”
Rhys stepped aside, and Violet hurried over to her most trusted servants. “I’m so sorry to worry you. I was not in my right mind last night. I fled into the night without thinking.”
Ginny stepped forward. “Oh, ma’am. We were so worried this morning when you weren’t in your bed. It was Jim who said you might be here.”
“Again, I am sorry. I just couldn’t be in the house a moment longer. I fled, and my feet led me here.” She glanced over at Rhys. Or perhaps it had been her heart that led her straight to him. When had Rhys become her safe harbor?
“My lady, you must come home. We will get you a nice hot bath and get you dressed in mourning clothes. Mr. Hodgins already has the house draped. Your family will be looking for you.”
Violet took a step back. Panic at the reality of all of it began to build. “Can’t you hold them off for a bit?”
“Your family? Once they learn the news, I can’t imagine anyone could stop them from descending.”
Ginny was right. Her family, despite their flaws, loved her. Nothing would stop her mother and sisters from coming to comfort her. She straightened her shoulders. “Yes, of course, you are absolutely right.” She pulled tight the belt of her dressing gown. “How will I get home dressed like this?”
“I brought the carriage, my lady. Right out back,” Jim said.
She sighed in relief. “All right. Good. Give me a moment.” She turned and walked over to Rhys. “I must go home.”
His blue-eyed gaze searched her face. He swept his thumb across her cheek. “You can come back anytime you need to escape. I will leave the back door unlocked.”
“Thank you,” she whispered. Then, before she did something foolish like throw herself into his arms, she turned away and walked out of the house with her servants.
*
Her family did indeed descend later that afternoon.
The duke’s secretary, a very efficient man, had notified her father first thing in the morning.
By the time her mother and sisters arrived, Ginny had bathed and dressed her in her best black crepe dress, the one she’d worn to her grandmother’s funeral.
It was out of fashion but thankfully, the fit allowed room for her expanding waistline.
“We will have to get you new dresses made appropriate for mourning.” Her mother hadn’t fussed or cried over Stuart’s demise. Ever practical, she simply thought through all the next steps. “And for your growing belly.”
Jane cried delicately into a handkerchief. “I can’t believe he is dead.”
Violet tried to appear appropriately sad, but for goodness’ sake, her family knew that Stuart hadn’t been a kind husband. Why were they pretending that his demise brought anything but relief?
“Well, I, for one, am glad he got what he deserved,” Millie said without remorse. Thank God for Millie.
“Millie! What a thing to say. Nobody deserves to die. No matter what kind of person he was, death is never something to celebrate,” their mother admonished.
Millie sniffed. “What happened, Violet? Father said that he fell down the stairs.”
With her mother’s admonishment ringing in her ears, tears began to flow.
Violet swiped at them, but the storm of emotions couldn’t be stemmed—her horror at seeing Stuart tumble down the stairs, her fear during their struggle, her relief that he could never hurt her again, and the guilt of that feeling.
He was dead. Her child would never know their father.
Maybe that was for the best. But what if he could have changed?
Stopped drinking so much? Violet buried her face in her hands.
It was no use thinking of such things. He was dead.
There would be no second chances for him.
Her mother scooted closer and wrapped Violet in her embrace. “There now, I know it must be overwhelming. It’s okay to cry.”
“The thing is, I won’t miss him.” Violet sniffed. “Am I a horrible person for feeling that way?”
Her mother smoothed a stray curl off her cheek. “No, Violet. You are free of him. Fate has given you a boon. You are carrying the duke’s heir; you will have every advantage.”
“What if it is not a boy?”
“Then you will marry again. You are young and beautiful. You will find another husband without any trouble.”
“Does this mean I have to be in mourning too? Do I have to miss the rest of the social season?” Jane wailed.
“Hush, Jane. This isn’t about you,” their mother said.
But Violet just laughed. It was so very Jane to go from crying straight to worrying how it all would affect her.
Violet leaned against the settee’s back and sighed.
Her emotions were all over the place these days, like she was traversing a winding road, swaying this way and that with every hairpin turn.
Then, from inside her belly, she felt a movement.
She placed her hand on her middle. Was that… could it have been the baby?
Then, there it was again. A small moment of pressure and release. “I think I just felt the baby quicken.”
Millie’s eyes widened. “You did? Can I feel?”
Violet nodded. Millie rose to come kneel at her feet. “It was here.” She took Millie’s hand and pressed to the right side where she had felt the baby’s movement. “I don’t know if it will do it again. Maybe it liked my laughter.”
“This is very good. You should feel the baby move often from now on,” her mother said. “See, there can be joy, even in times of sadness. Nothing in life is all one or the other.”
Millie frowned. “Nothing is happening.”
Violet laughed again. “Perhaps the babe is as stubborn as you when it comes to following directions.” Then she felt a nudge again.
“Wait, I felt that!” Millie said. “It does like your laugh.”
There was a knock at the door. “Come in,” Violet called out.
Hodgins entered. “Lady Sommerset, a missive was just delivered for you.”
“Thank you, Mr. Hodgins.” Violet accepted the folded note.
She ran a finger underneath the seal and read the short note.
Her heart sank into her stomach. “The duke demands my presence to keep vigil for my husband. He said the funeral will be three days hence. Oh, Mama, I can’t be in the same room with Stuart’s body. I just can’t.”
“He is right. It is your place to sit vigil.”
“Can’t you tell him I couldn’t possibly, in my delicate condition?” Violet begged her mother.
“Well…I suppose we could say that you are overwrought, and I have recommended bed rest to preserve the pregnancy. That should placate him. Jane and I will go pay our respects this afternoon and speak with him then.” Her mother’s face was determined.
“Your father is there already to support his friend.”
Relief washed through Violet. “I will take to my bed immediately.”
“We will head home. I will send over the modiste possibly tomorrow to get you fitted with proper mourning clothes. Appearances are important.” Her mother leaned in to peck her on the cheek. “Good day, dear.”