A Fresh Fiction 2010 Favorite Read
After their strategic βmarriage of commerceβ three years
ago, Rule quite forgot about Violet Griffin, the teenage
heiress to a Boston manufacturing fortune. He simply spoke
his vows, took over her fatherβs business and returned to
England to resume his usual pursuits: high-priced wine,
high-stakes gambling and high-born women.
Yet when Violet, now a sophisticated woman, unexpectedly
appears at Rule's London townhouse, husbandly duties no
longer seem so odiousβhe can't wait to take his stunning
bride to their marriage bed. Violet, however, is not so
easily led: she has her own ideas and is seeking an
annulment to marry another. But as Rule attempts to win her
over, someone else is determined to frame him for murder
and keep him out of the way for good...
Excerpt The hour was late when Rule arrived home from his
gentlemanβs club. To his surprise, his silver-haired butler
waited in the entry to greet him, his eyes red from lack of
sleep.
βWhat is it, Hatfield? I told you not to wait up.β
The butler straightened, looking more like his old self
again. βYouβve a guest, my lord. Two of them, actually.β
Rule frowned. βA guest? Iβm not expecting anyone. Who is it?β
βYour wife, sir.β
Silence fell. βMy...my wife is here?β He hadnβt seen her
since the day he married her three years ago.
Hat nodded, moving strands of the silver hair hanging over
his wrinkled forehead. βYes, my lord. Her ladyship arrived
from America late this afternoon with her cousin, a Miss
Caroline Lockhart.β
βI see.β Of course he didnβt see at all and all he could
think was bloody hell, what am I going to do now?
βYour wife, sir...sheβs waiting for you.β
βViolet is...my wife is waiting for me? She is up at this
hour?β
βYes, sir, in the drawing room.β
His mind was spinning, trying to sort things out. Violet
was in London. He was supposed to have retrieved her years
ago. Instead, she had been forced to cross the Atlantic on
her own. He started walking toward the drawing room, wide
awake now, no longer feeling the least effects of the
alcohol he had consumed.
As he strode into the room, she sat bolt upright, her eyes
bright and blinking, glanced round as if to recall where she
was, straightened and shoved to her feet. She was smaller
than he remembered was his first impression, petite but
shapely. In truth, she was different in every way from the
gangly sixteen year old he had married for financial reasons.
Except for her glorious copper hair, the likes of which he
had never seen.
He groped for something to say. βViolet. I cannot believe
you are here.β
She gave him a chilling smile. βIt took a while to reach
London. But as you see, here I am.β
He couldnβt seem to make himself move. βSo you are.β
He did move then, closing the distance between them,
reaching out to take both of her hands. She wore no gloves,
he noticed, and realized that aside from his chase bridal
kiss on her cheek, he had never actually touched her without
the barrier of some sort of clothing.
βWelcome to London,β he said. βIf I had known you were
coming, I would have prepared a more proper greeting.β
Violet withdrew her hands from his and looked him over head
to foot. For the first time, it occurred to him that his
cravat was undone and dangling round his neck. His collar
was missing, his shirt unbuttoned and his hair slightly
mussed.
Violet, on the other hand, looked...well...
Violet Griffin Dewar was beautiful.
"It must have been quite an evening,β she said, those leaf
green eyes he remembered taking in his dishevel.
He flushed like a schoolboy. βNot really. I stopped by to
see friends and wound up playing cards at my club.β
βYou were gambling? I didnβt realize you were a gambler.β
His embarrassment faded, replaced by a hint of irritation.
She had been so malleable before. βI rarely gamble. I was
simply passing time.β
βYes, well, you certainly managed to do that.β She glanced
up at the clock, the hands pointing to the lateness of the
hour, condemning him.
βI am certain you are tired,β she continued. βI shall leave
you to find your bed. I just wanted you to know I was here
and to say that there is an important matter I wish to
discuss with you in the morning.β
βYes, of course.β His gaze ran over her. In the yellow
glow of the lamp, he saw that in the last three years her
features had softened, the sharp angles smoothed into
feminine lines and curves. Her cheeks were as pale as cream
and heightened by a touch of rose. A full bosom swelled
above her tiny waist. Her neck was slender and as graceful
as her hands.
A shot of lust hit him. He had dreaded the day he would be
forced to make his marriage real, had put off his duties for
as long as he dared.
Now as he looked at Violetβs full pink lips, glimpsed the
tops of her creamy breasts, he imagined what it would be
like to take his petite wife to bed and began to see
marriage in a whole different light.
"Iβll have Hat rouse one of the chambermaids and send her in
to help you undress,β he said, the image making him start to
go hard.
Reality set in. Godβs blood, his wife had come to London!
He would have to tell his family, try to explain why he had
kept his marriage a secret. Rule thought of facing his two
brothers and their wives--worse yet, his aunt Agatha, the
matriarch of the family--and inwardly he groaned.
On the other hand, as he watched Violet collect her silk
skirts and sweep gracefully from the drawing room, it
occurred to him that having a woman like that in his bed
might just outweigh the many disadvantages of being married.
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