Rule's Bride

Four

At the sound of heavy footsteps pounding down the hall, Rule looked up from the paperwork spread open on his desk to see his brothers, Royal and Reese, striding through his open study door.

“You are married!” Royal, the oldest and current Duke of Bransford, bore down on him like a big golden lion descending on its prey. He was tall and blond, the opposite of Rule and Reese, his eyes not blue but a tawny golden-brown. “I cannot believe it!”

“Who is she?” Reese, the middle brother, demanded, his jaw as hard as steel. He was once a soldier and it showed in his commanding tone and the hard lines of his face. His coloring was the same as Rule’s, his hair jet-black, and his eyes an intense shade of blue. “How long have you been married and why the bloody hell didn’t you tell us?”

“I intended to tell you this morning,” Rule said, trying not to be intimidated, which, being the youngest, wasn’t that easy to do. “That is the reason I asked you to come.”

He had known his brothers were in London, in town on brewery business. Royal owned Swansdowne Ale, the most popular beer in England. Reese grew a large percentage of the barley used in the brewing process. Both of them had grown wealthy from the profits over the years.

And both were happily married.

Which, at the moment, didn’t bode well.

“So how did you find out?” Rule asked.

“My wife told me,” they both said in unison. Reese glared at Rule, leaving Royal to explain.

“Lily’s maid heard it from one of the servants, who heard it from another of the servants, who heard it from one of yours.”

“Which is exactly how Beth got the news,” Reese added darkly. “I think you owe us an explanation, little brother.”

Rule blew out a breath. He was twenty-seven years old, the head of a huge manufacturing firm, and they still saw him as a boy.

“I married Violet Griffin in Boston three years ago. It was arranged by her father, who had discovered he was dying. She was only sixteen at the time, so—”

“Sixteen!” Royal nearly shouted.

“You married a sixteen-year-old girl?” Reese’s fierce gaze bored into him.

“In point of fact, the marriage was never consummated—since she was too young at the time we were wed.”

Reese sat down in a chair across from him and Royal did the same.

“I think you had better start at the beginning,” Royal said while Reese just sat there glaring.

For the next half hour, he tried to make his brothers understand what had transpired in Boston. How much he had to gain from the arrangement, how he had done it partly to fulfill the vow he had made to their father. He wasn’t sure they accepted his reasons.

He was even less certain they understood his rationale when he sent for Violet and she walked into the study.

Royal looked at Reese. Reese stared back at Royal, then both of them smiled.

“It’s nice to meet you, my lady,” Royal said.

It was obvious his brothers believed he had married Violet because of her beauty. They thought the marriage was motivated by desire more than money.

It wasn’t true then.

It was more than accurate now.

Walking toward her, Royal reached out and warmly took her hand. “Welcome to the family.”

Violet looked to Rule for help, clearly hoping he would explain their arrangement, but Rule made no comment. As far as he was concerned, they were married and that was that.

Violet mustered a smile. “Good morning…my lord.”

“He’s a duke,” Rule said, fighting not to grin. “You address him as His Grace.”

“I hope you will address me as Royal,” his brother said smoothly. “We are all family now.”

For the first time since her arrival, Violet seemed flustered. “I am sorry. I am unused to proper English forms of address. Please…I hope you will call me Violet.”

Royal seemed pleased.

“And this is my brother, Reese.” Rule waited as his middle brother made a very formal bow.

“A pleasure to meet you, my—”

“Violet, if you would.”

Reese’s mouth twitched. For a man who never used to smile, he certainly seemed amused. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Violet.”

“You, as well…Reese.”

“I’m sorry my wife isn’t here,” Reese said. “Elizabeth is eager to meet you.”

“As is Lily,” Royal added. “Once you are properly settled, we’ll have supper so we can all get to know each other.” Royal flicked Rule a warning glance. You have a wife now, those golden eyes said. You had better treat her well.

Rule turned to Violet. “There is a ball tomorrow night. It’s being given by the Marchioness of Wyhurst in honor of her daughter, Sabrina. I am expected to attend. I believe my brothers and their wives will also be going. It would give me a chance to introduce you. I would be pleased if you and your cousin would accompany me.”

Violet flashed him a look of entreaty. She didn’t want their marriage known, he could see. And yet she had agreed to give him the next thirty days.

“All right,” she reluctantly agreed.

Royal and Reese both rose, taking their cue to leave. “Then we shall see you at the ball,” Royal said.

The men left the study and the minute the door was closed, Violet turned on Rule. “You shouldn’t have done that.”

“Why not?”

“Once we are out in Society, all of London will believe we are truly wed when, thirty days from now, I will be returning to Boston.”

Rule moved closer, so near he caught a whiff of her floral perfume. Violets, he thought, finding the idea charming. “You don’t know that for certain.”

“I do.”

He only shook his head. “No, you don’t,” he said softly. Reaching out, he cupped her face between his hands, bent his head and captured her lips. It was a soft, gentle kiss, meant to coax and not frighten. But when she didn’t resist, he lingered a few seconds more, tasting the corners of her mouth, feeling her bottom lip tremble.

Violet swayed toward him, set her hands on his shoulders, and desire surged through his blood. When her soft lips parted under his, his tongue slipped inside and he bit back a groan of pure pleasure.

Violet trembled and an instant later, broke away.

“That…that was not part of our agreement.”

He cocked a brow, his shaft still hard and pulsing. “Wasn’t it? I don’t believe kissing my wife is a breach of contract.”

“That was…that was…more than a kiss.”

“Violet, love, it was merely a tasting. When the time is right, I will show you what is more than a kiss.”

Her eyes widened. She stood there an instant, then whirled away from him and rushed to the door of the study.

Rule chuckled softly, a feeling of triumph rising inside him.

A single kiss was only the beginning of what he had planned.

Caroline was excited, but Violet dressed for the evening with dread. Tonight she would meet the rest of Rule’s family, as well as his friends. He would introduce her as his wife.

She wasn’t truly his wife and never would be. Their sham of a marriage would be over in a single month. She would return to Boston and marry Jeffrey, just as she had planned.

“You look like your favorite cat just died,” Caroline said as she walked into Violet’s bedroom. “For heaven’s sake, Vi, we are going to a fabulous ball hosted by a marchioness! And we are going in company with a duke, a duchess, a countess and two lords! How can you look so glum?”

“I have to spend the evening pretending to be Rule’s wife, that is how I can look so glum.”

“You are Rule’s wife—at least for a little while longer. You might as well enjoy it.”

Violet closed her eyes, trying to block the image of Rule leaning toward her, his mouth settling softly, possessively over hers. She tried not to remember the rush of sensation, the incredible pleasure that had poured through every part of her body.

“There are definitely advantages to being married to a member of the aristocracy,” Caroline went on.

Violet rolled her eyes. “I am deceiving his family and his friends. I am not really his wife and I don’t ever intend to be.”

“So what? He embarrassed you by not returning to Boston. If you embarrass him by ending the marriage he clearly did not want, he deserves it.”

It was true. Rule had treated her badly. He deserved whatever he got.

“Come on.” Caroline reached out and caught her hand, tugging her forward. “His family is probably downstairs by now.” Rule wanted Violet to meet his brothers’ wives before the ball. Maybe he thought it would be easier if she was surrounded by family when they arrived.

Violet halted before they reached the door. “Do you think this dress is all right? It isn’t cut too low?” It was fashioned of topaz silk with a full, gold-shot overskirt ruched up on the sides. The same gold-shot fabric draped over her bosom, which was low enough to expose a glimpse of her cleavage. She was a married woman, no longer a child, and she had decided to dress accordingly.

“Are you joking? The gown is delicious. I like it even better than my own.” A deep blue velvet that set off Caroline’s pretty blue eyes. “Now let’s go. We have kept them waiting too long already.”

Violet took a shaky breath and followed her cousin out the door. When she reached the top of the stairs, she spotted Rule waiting for her at the bottom. Her breath caught. Dear Lord, it ought to be a sin for a man to look that good. Dressed head to foot in black except for a silver waistcoat, white shirt and cravat, he was the handsomest man she had ever seen. She might have called him beautiful if it weren’t for his solid jaw and the slight indentation in his chin.

He looked up at her, his blue eyes so intense she felt as if he reached out and touched her.

“You are staring at him like a schoolgirl,” Caroline whispered, making Violet blush. “Go on down and join him.”

Violet took a deep breath, squared her shoulders and started down the stairs, thinking how ridiculous it was to let a man’s appearance make her feel light-headed. She was back in control by the time she reached the bottom of the staircase, Caroline a step behind.

“You ladies look lovely,” Rule said, his eyes running over her but never once straying toward Caroline as a lot of men’s did. Her cousin was blonde and lovely and far more the coquette than Violet.

Rule offered an arm to each of them. “Come. I want you to meet my brothers’ wives, Elizabeth and Lily.”

Violet ignored a sweep of nerves. She wouldn’t be Rule’s wife for long, but still she wanted his family to like her. Her heart raced as he led them into his elegant drawing room. The brothers rose at their entrance.

Violet looked past them to the women at their sides. Gowned in sea-green silk, Royal’s wife, Lily, was as blonde and fair as he. Reese’s wife, the Countess of Aldridge, was a petite woman dressed in sapphire-blue with alert gray eyes and her husband’s same black hair.

Introductions were made, both women watching her with undisguised fascination. When Caroline was introduced to the group, all of them were friendly, yet the women’s attention remained focused on the newest member of the Dewar family.

“It’s wonderful to meet you at last,” the duchess said graciously. “Though I am still coming to grips with the notion that Rule has finally taken a wife. We were afraid he would remain a bachelor for the rest of his life.”

Violet managed a smile. “Actually, he has been married for the past three years.”

“So we gathered,” Elizabeth said darkly. Rule had said she preferred not to use the title she retained as her former husband’s widow, insisting Violet address her merely as Elizabeth or Beth. “Rule should have told us, of course, but he has always been a man of surprises.” She flicked him a reproving glance.

Clearly the Dewar women spoke their minds, which Violet found strangely comforting.

Lily asked about her sea voyage, and Caroline asked the two women about their children—the nieces and nephews Rule proudly claimed.

“They are growing up far too quickly,” Elizabeth said. “My son Jared will soon be thirteen and off to boarding school. Fortunately, his younger brother, Marcus, will be home, keeping me busy for a few more years.” She laughed. “He has always been more of a handful than his brother.”

“Girls are just as bad,” Lily said with a smile. “Marybeth can’t sit still for a minute.”

“I’m afraid I wasn’t the easiest child to raise,” Caroline put in. “According to my mother, I got into everything I could get my hands on. And Violet was quite the tomboy, being raised by her father.”

Violet flushed. She wished her cousin would simply keep silent. These women were English aristocrats. In their eyes, behaving like a boy was probably quite shocking.

“At least your Alex is always well behaved,” Elizabeth said of the duke’s son and heir.

Lily laughed, a sound that rang like fine crystal. “Not always, I promise you.” She smiled kindly at Violet. “Still, they are worth every moment of trouble. You will see once you have a child of your own.”

Violet made no reply. If she had a child it would not be Rule’s, but Jeffrey’s.

“Once you are settled,” Elizabeth said, “we shall have a ball to properly announce your marriage. Lily and I will make all the arrangements.”

Violet’s heart sank. She wished Rule had told them the truth. “I appreciate that, truly I do, but I think you should know that Rule and I may not be—”

“It’s getting late,” her soon-to-be-former husband interrupted before she could tell them that in thirty days, the two of them would be dissolving the marriage. “We had better be going. You’ll have plenty of time to talk once we get to the ball.”

As the women collected their reticules, straightened their voluminous skirts, collected their wraps and walked beside their husbands toward the door, Rule leaned close and whispered in her ear.

“You promised to give me thirty days. During that time, I expect you to behave as my wife. If things don’t work out, we can inform my family then.”

It wasn’t an unfair request. Besides, whatever consequences he and his family might suffer wouldn’t matter, since she would be on her way home to Boston.

“Are we agreed?” he pressed.

“As you wish.”

Rule seemed relieved. They went out to the carriages, which were parked in a row out front. His brothers and their wives would be following in their own vehicles. Caroline traveled with Lily and Royal, excited to be riding in the magnificent, gilded, four-horse ducal coach.

Rule assisted Violet into his elegant black carriage and followed her inside. Instead of taking a seat across from her, he settled himself beside her, his wide shoulders brushing against her, sending a little curl of heat into the pit of her stomach.

“You look beautiful, Violet. Your father would be very happy tonight.”

Guilt trickled through her. Griff had wanted her to marry Rule. It meant a great deal to him to believe he had secured her future. But her happiness was the thing he wanted most.

She wasn’t about to throw that happiness away on Rule Dewar.

Five

The birthday ball, given by the Marquess and Marchioness of Wyhurst, was an extravagant affair unmatched by any of the events Violet had attended in Boston.

The mansion itself was palatial—three stories high, built in a U shape, the exterior faced with gleaming white marble. Torches lined the drive up to the house, which was entirely enclosed by ornate wrought-iron fencing.

Inside, the magnificent entry was the full three stories tall and capped by an amber glass ceiling. Columns and reflecting pools had been painted on the walls, making it look like the entrance to a villa in Rome.

The marquess, an older man with snow-white hair, stood in the receiving line next to his petite, dark-haired wife and beautiful, willowy blonde daughter, Sabrina.

Rule made the introductions. “Good evening, Lord Wyhurst. My ladies. I would like to present my wife, Violet. She is just arrived from Boston.”

The blonde’s gorgeous blue eyes widened. “Your wife?” she repeated as if she couldn’t quite believe her ears.

Rule just smiled. “That is correct, my lady, and this is her cousin, Miss Caroline Lockhart, also here from America.”

“A pleasure to meet you both,” Lady Wyhurst said with a smile that looked a little forced. Violet wondered if the marchioness had designs on Rule as a son-in-law. Being the son of a duke, he was undoubtedly considered quite a catch.

“Congratulations, my boy,” the marquess said with a smile that appeared sincere. He turned that warm smile on Violet. “Welcome to England, my lady.”

She opened her mouth at the use of the title, then felt Rule’s gentle nudge in the ribs.

“Thank you,” she said sweetly.

The marquess returned his attention to Rule. “About time you settled down, my boy.” A chuckle rumbled in his chest. “Even if it took an American girl to bring you to heel.” He winked at Violet and she managed to smile.

Unfortunately, she’d had little to do with the marriage. It was her father’s money that had brought Rule Dewar to the altar.

The formalities were finally at an end. The group moved on, the Dewar family surrounding her as they made their way up the stairs. Crossing a false-stone arched bridge, they walked into a ballroom that had been transformed into a magnificent villa complete with gardens and a beautiful ocean view.

The conversation in the entry announcing Rule’s marriage must have been overheard because the room was buzzing by the time they walked in, the entire assembly of several hundred guests whispering and staring in their direction.

For an instant, Violet’s feet refused to move. She felt Rule’s hand reach for hers. He laced their fingers together and gave them a gentle squeeze.

“They’re just curious,” he whispered. “Don’t pay them the least attention. You know how people love to gossip.”

She knew, all right. She just wasn’t used to being the center of that gossip. Thank God, she would be on her way back to Boston by the time the marriage became known to be invalid.

Rule rested her trembling hand on the sleeve of his coat and led her farther into the ballroom, winding his way among the guests.

“Can you believe it?” one of the matrons whispered. “Rule Dewar. I can hardly credit that handsome scoundrel has finally been leg-shackled. And by an American, no less.”

“Probably had no choice,” a second woman said tartly. “I’ll be counting the months. Won’t be long before the truth is known.”

“Dewar is an utter rogue,” another woman said. “That isn’t going to change. If she is with child, it won’t be long before he’ll have the poor chit shipped off to the country.”

Violet took a fortifying breath and fought to ignore the women’s words, but no matter which way she turned, the same conversation swirled around her. Rule and his libertine ways and the matter of his hasty marriage. None of them knew, of course, that he had been married for the past three years.

A thought that galled her.

And embarrassed her.

She was his wife—at least in name. He should have had the decency to own up to the vows he had made. It took all of her will not to turn and march out of the ballroom.

Ever supportive, Caroline hurried up beside her. “They’re all just jealous. Rule married you, not one of their prissy daughters.”

“Your cousin is right.” Black-haired and beautiful, Elizabeth Dewar floated toward her. “They’ll have their fun for a bit, but in the end, you are Rule’s wife. That is all that matters.”

“Both Beth and I faced the same sort of gossip when we were first married,” Lily added. “In time, your marriage will be old news, just as ours is.”

Violet glanced to where her husband stood in conversation with a group of men and women. “Apparently Rule is quite popular with the ladies.”

“Yes, well, that is all in the past,” Elizabeth said. “Your marriage was not yet official, not the way Rule saw it. Now that you are here, you won’t have to worry about that sort of thing again.”

But Violet didn’t believe it. A leopard didn’t change its spots, and a scoundrel didn’t cleave to just one woman.

It didn’t matter. In a month, he would be free to live as he chose, and she would be on her way back home.

“I appreciate your kindness and support,” she said to the women. “Truly I do.”

Lily smiled. “We’re sisters now. Sisters take care of each other.”

Violet felt an unexpected thickness in her throat. She had never had siblings, though she had wanted a brother and sister very badly. “Thank you.” She felt a renewed shot of guilt. The Dewars were willing to accept her into their family, while she had no intention of living up to their expectations of her as Rule’s wife.

A little shiver of awareness went through her as he returned to her side. The man fairly exuded confidence, power and virility. Violet did her best not to notice.

“They are playing a waltz,” he said. “I have yet to dance with my wife. Would you do me the honor, my lady?”

She started to remind him he had agreed to call her Violet, but somehow it no longer seemed important. Instead She took his arm, wishing far more that he would stop referring to her as his wife. She would never truly be his and she wasn’t the sort to pretend.

Still, she let him lead her onto the dance floor and took her place in front of him. Since he stood nearly a foot taller than she, dancing with him should have been awkward, but from the moment he took her in his arms and the music started, from the instant he swept her into the rhythm of the dance, it was like floating on air.