Chapter Twenty-Eight
The next morning at breakfast, Hodgins surprised Violet when he rushed into the room, his expression tight with worry. “My lady, the Duke of Lavensham has returned. I have put him in the drawing room.”
Good Lord. She took a bracing sip of tea and rose from her seat. “It’s all right, Hodgins. I will go speak with him immediately.”
But as she exited and made her way to the front of the house, the duke was not in the drawing room. He stood in the center of the main hall, staring at the staircase with its wide marble steps and dark mahogany railings. His shoulders slumped forward.
Violet sighed at the sadness that rolled off him. “Good morning, Your Grace.”
When the duke straightened and turned, his blue eyes blazed with anger. “Violet, your recent behavior is inexcusable.” He stalked over. “I won’t let anyone disrespect my son’s memory, not even his whore of a wife.”
She flinched at the venom in his words. “Your Grace—”
“I don’t want to hear any of your lies. You have been walking around the corner to spend your nights at that man’s house.
” He gripped her arm painfully. “After the first whispers reached my ears, I hired someone to watch you. You have been out visiting friends and lovers when you should be in the house, mourning my son,” he shouted.
He’d had her followed? She had severely underestimated her freedom now that Stuart was gone.
The duke’s fury seemed to bubble over like a pot of boiling water; he shook her like a rag doll.
Fear, hot and sharp, filled her chest. Like father, like son.
Violet put a hand on her belly. “Your Grace, please. You don’t want to harm the baby. ”
The duke’s gaze dropped to her belly. “Yes, of course. My heir.” His grip on her arm loosened, but he did not let go.
He bent down until his face was only inches from hers.
“You are coming with me to my estate, where I can keep an eye on you for the duration of this pregnancy. And you better pray that it is a boy because trust me when I say your life depends on it.”
“No,” she shook her head. “I refuse. You can’t hold me prisoner.”
“You protest as if you have a choice. Mr. Hodgins, get her cloak and bonnet,” he barked.
“You, missy, are coming with me now to Sommerset House, where I can trust my staff to follow instructions.” He glared over her shoulder at her staff, who had gathered at the edges of the foyer.
“If you value your jobs, pack her bags. You have two hours.”
Violet twisted around, her panic intensifying at Hodgins’s stoically blank expression. He flicked a hand at Jim. “You heard His Grace. Bring Lady Sommerset’s effects.”
At the top of the stairs, Ginny gripped the railing as she watched the scene below. Violet looked back to the duke, keeping her voice soft. “May I at least bring my lady’s maid with me to the country?”
“Fine.”
Jim brought her effects forward, his expression filled with worry. Violet mustered a tiny smile as she tied on her bonnet, but she dared not say anything to him in front of the duke. She hoped that once they were gone, Jim would go tell Rhys what had happened. She pulled on her gloves. “I’m ready.”
The duke glared up the stairs. “Get your lady’s things packed.
You have two hours or we leave without you.
” Then he gripped Violet’s arm and pulled her out of the house to his waiting carriage.
Violet climbed inside and closed her eyes as the conveyance started forward.
She pushed her panic down. It would be all right. Rhys would come for her.
*
Violet stared out at the rolling green pastures of the Kent Downs and stifled a sigh.
They had been traveling all day. Ginny hummed absentmindedly from next to her in the spacious ducal coach as she worked on a piece of cross-stitch.
Her maid had organized two trunks’ worth of clothing and necessities with the precision of a military general and had Jim drive them and her over within the two-hour deadline.
The carriage hit a rut, jostling her, and Violet gripped the edges of the book in her lap that Ginny had so thoughtfully brought along to keep her entertained.
Not that she could concentrate as their coach flew at top speed through the countryside.
The ride had been so bumpy she feared that she would lose her lunch.
Across from her, the duke sat with his eyes closed, but he couldn’t possibly be sleeping through this rough ride.
She cleared her throat. “I am going to need to stop soon at a coaching inn to refresh myself.”
He opened his eyes and glared at her. “We have already stopped twice.”
Violet laid her hands on her belly. “Pregnant women don’t travel well, especially with roads this poor.” She batted her eyelashes and attempted to look as distraught as possible.
The duke sighed and tapped the ceiling with his fist. The hatch opened, and a face appeared. “Yes, sir.”
“We will stop at the next respectable coaching inn.”
“Yes, Your Grace.” The hatch closed.
“Thank you,” Violet said primly. She had tried her best to slow them down as much as possible today. Rhys must be in pursuit by now. She hoped.
The rest of the day went in a similar pattern.
Stopping for short respites out of the carriage, Violet took her time using the necessary and walking to stretch her legs and breathe in fresh air.
At supper, she forced herself to eat a small amount of food.
Rhys’s voice telling her she needed to feed the baby echoed in her mind.
The duke glowered at her across the small table in their private dining room. “Thanks to all your stops, we will have to stay overnight. What should have taken one day will now take two.”
She was exhausted and cranky and in no mood for his tantrum. She shrugged one shoulder. “You are the one who insisted I come.”
He drained his glass of wine and slammed it down on the table. “Go to your room.”
Happy to be dismissed, she rose and curtsied. “Good night, Your Grace.” Then she made a hasty exit. Ginny waited for her in the corridor. She gave her maid a wide smile. “I think I annoyed him enough for one day. Let’s go to bed.”