Kat Martin - Rule's Bride

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.

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.”