Rule's Bride (13 page)

A
stiff wind rattled the branches, shaking the budding leaves on the trees. The late-morning temperature was colder than yesterday, but at least the harsh breeze had cleared the air.

Since Rule had resumed his daily routine and long ago left for the office, Violet rambled around the house, wishing she had something to do to wile away the hours that seemed endless since she was used to working.

She was padding toward the entry when she spotted Hatfield carrying a message on a silver salver.

“This just came for you, my lady.”

“Thank you, Hat.”

His wrinkled face always turned a little pink when she called him that and yet she thought it pleased him. She opened the wax-sealed message and began to read.

Oh, dear God, Jeffrey was in London! What on earth could she tell him? How could she possibly explain?

Rushing frantically up the stairs, she called for Mary to help her change. She had no idea what she would say to Jeffrey when she saw him. There was no possible excuse for what she had done.

Her heart squeezed. She had betrayed him, pure and simple.

Violet blinked against the sudden sting of tears. Jeffrey was a good and decent man. They could have been happy together.

She thought of the promise she had made to Rule, that she would give their marriage a chance. Rule had said he wouldn't force her to make love, but neither did he intend for their marriage to be one of convenience.

And deep down, she had begun to anticipate the moment when he would return to her bed.

Now Jeffrey was here, a reminder of all her life would be missing. Unlike Rule, Jeffrey had declared his love for her and vowed to dedicate himself to making her happy. Her heart ached. Once Jeffrey knew the truth, he would turn away from her in disgust. Even if she obtained a divorce, he would not want her.

Shoving away her heartbreak, Violet dressed in a gown of apricot silk, grabbed her white cotton gloves and headed back downstairs. At precisely one o'clock, she boarded the
carriage Rule had provided for her and set off for the Lockhart house in Belgravia. She wanted to get there early. She needed to speak to Caroline, ask for her advice.

Thirty minutes before Jeffrey was due, she arrived at the large brick house, her heart squeezing and her thoughts circling round and round in her head. Caroline opened the door before she had reached the top of the wide front porch steps, grabbed her hand and hauled her into the entry.

“Thank God you are here.”

“I came early. I was hoping we would have a chance to talk.” As they traveled down the hall, arm in arm, she glanced around in search of Mrs. Lockhart. “Where is your grandmother?”

“Upstairs. She has been feeling a bit under the weather. I am sure it is nothing serious, but at the moment, I am grateful she won't be able to come down.”

“What did she say when Jeffrey arrived?”

“I told her he was a longtime friend of your family's and mine. She didn't seem to think it untoward that he had stopped by to pay a call.”

“I suppose, under different circumstances, it would be completely expected.”

Neither of them said more until the butler had securely closed the doors to the family drawing room.

“I still cannot believe it,” Caroline said. “Jeffrey in London! What on earth are you going to do?”

Violet felt a lump building in her throat. “I will do what I must. I have to tell Jeffrey the truth. What else can I do?”

Caroline sat down on the sofa, but Violet began to pace back and forth.

“This is dreadful,” Caroline said, “simply dreadful.”

“I know.”

“Jeffrey is going to be crushed.”

Violet sat down next to her cousin and fought not to cry. “I wish I could change things, Carrie, but it is far too late for that.”

Caroline reached over and caught her hand. “It is never too late. There are always choices to be made. Speaking of which, how are things going with Rule?”

Violet sighed. “He has agreed to sell the company. But he wants our partnership to continue. He wants to reinvest the proceeds into business opportunities on which we both agree.”

“That sounds reasonable, I suppose.”

“He also wants the two of us to stay married for at least another month.”

“What?” Caroline leaped up from the sofa. “But you can't possibly do that!”

Tears welled in Violet's eyes. “You have to understand, Carrie. My marriage to Rule was what my father wanted above all things. Once the annulment was no longer possible, I knew my relationship with Jeffrey was over. It never occurred to me he would come to London.”

Caroline sank back down on the sofa. “Oh, dear.”

Violet drew a lace-trimmed handkerchief out of her reticule and mopped at the wetness beneath her eyes. “I don't know how I am going to face him.”

Caroline squeezed her hand. “None of this is your fault. Your husband abandoned you and then seduced you. Just tell Jeffrey the truth. There is always the chance he will forgive you. After you've talked to him, perhaps you will know what you should do.”

Violet looked up. “I just… I wish I had stayed in Boston.”

They talked until the chimes on the grandfather clock struck twice, indicating the hour of Jeffrey's arrival. A few minutes later, a soft knock came at the drawing room door.

“Mr. Burnett is returned, miss,” the butler said to Caroline. “The American gentleman who was here this morning?”

“Yes, we've been expecting him.”

“I've asked him to wait in the formal drawing room.”

“Thank you.” Caroline gave Violet a reassuring glance, and together they walked out into the hall. Following the butler, they made their way to the formal drawing room, which like most of the house was a little worn but adequate, with dark blue silk draperies and gold velvet sofas. Like most Victorian homes, there seemed to be a little too much of everything to suit Violet.

Caroline hesitated in the doorway. Across the drawing room, Jeffrey stood with his back to the door, his shoulders straight, his golden hair gleaming in the light coming in through the mullioned windows.

“I think it would be better if I waited until the two of you have spoken,” Caroline whispered. “If you need me, I'll be just in the other room.”

Violet just nodded. Taking a breath for courage, she started across the drawing room. Jeffrey turned at the muffled sound of her footsteps on the carpet, and a wide smile lit his face.

“Violet, dearest.” He strode toward her, a handsome man, fair instead of dark like Rule, but attractive all the same. He stopped directly in front of her. She thought that after such a long absence, he might sweep her into his arms, but Jeffrey merely reached for her gloved hand and brought it to his lips.

“It is so good to see you, my dear Violet.”

She managed to smile, though her chest was tight and she was fighting to hold back tears. “You as well, Jeffrey.” She led him over to the sofa and both of them sat down. “How was your journey?”

“Difficult. But then that is expected when one travels across an ocean.”

“I wish…I wish you had written and told me you were coming.”

“I would have, but the notion came fairly swiftly once you were gone. A message wouldn't have reached you before my arrival.” He unfastened the tiny buttons on her glove, lifted her hand and pressed his lips against her wrist. It was the most intimate gesture he had ever made.

“You look beautiful, Violet. Even more lovely than I remembered.”

Violet eased her hand away and rose from the sofa. She walked over to the hearth and slowly turned to face him. “You have come a great distance, Jeffrey, and now that you are here, what I have to say will be a grave disappointment. There is no easy way to tell you this.”

She released a shaky breath, hoping her courage would not fail. “I can only begin by saying how sorry I am it happened.”

Jeffrey rose, worrying lines digging into his forehead, his golden eyebrows drawn slightly together over his warm brown eyes. “What is it, darling? Surely it can't be that bad.”

Violet moistened her lips, which suddenly felt as stiff as the petticoat beneath her skirt. “I am sorry, Jeffrey, but there is not going to be an annulment.”

Jeffrey began walking toward her. “What do you mean? Did Dewar refuse to agree?”

“He wants the marriage to stand. He said he was coming to Boston to get me. He said he wanted to make our marriage real. Then…then there was a fire and we were both nearly killed and then…and then…” She straightened. “I slept with him, Jeffrey. He made me his wife. There can be no annulment.”

Jeffrey's features turned ashen. He simply stood there staring in disbelief.

“I am sorry,” she said. Tears welled in her eyes and spilled over onto her cheeks. Violet wiped them away with the tip of her glove.

Jeffrey seemed to awaken from a trance. He completed the distance between them, reached out and gripped her shoulders. “This isn't your fault. Dewar took advantage. You said you were nearly killed. You must have been terrified. I know the sort of man he is. I heard rumors about him when he was in Boston. Even then, he had a black reputation with women. The man is a practiced seducer.”

Violet fought to hold back fresh tears. “It doesn't matter, Jeffrey. We're married. He had a right to consummate the marriage.”

“He forced you?”

Violet shook her head. “No,” she said softly.

“I'll call him out! I'll kill him—I swear it!” He let go of her and strode over to the window, his chest heaving in and out.

Violet moved toward him, rested a hand gently on his arm. “I am married, Jeffrey. I was when we first met. It wasn't fair to lead you on as I did.”

He turned to face her. “The man abandoned you, no matter what he says. You had every right to try to make a life for yourself.”

She swallowed past the lump in her throat. “It doesn't matter. Unless something changes, I am Rule's wife and he is my husband. Please try to accept that.”

She thought of the divorce she might yet undertake, but it wasn't fair to Jeffrey to hold out that sort of hope.

“I love you, Violet. I meant for us to marry.”

“I wasn't in a position to accept an offer of marriage and we both knew it.”

“We were planning a life together.”

“We spoke of it. I wanted to marry you, Jeffrey, truly I did, but it was already too late.”

He caught hold of her hands. “It isn't too late. You don't love Dewar, you love me. Say it, Violet. Tell me you love me.”

Her throat tightened. Before she'd left Boston, she could have easily said the words. She didn't understand why she couldn't say them now.

“So much has changed. I care for you, Jeffrey. I always will. For now, let us leave it at that.”

Jeffrey drew her toward him. For an instant, she thought he might kiss her, as Rule would surely have done. Instead, he abruptly released her and moved several steps away.

“I am staying at the Parkland Hotel, should you need me.”

“I am so sorry, Jeffrey.” He had lost so much. Both of them had.

“This isn't over, Violet. You may rely on that.”

Violet said nothing. She was still uncertain what the future might hold. Uncertain whether Jeffrey might yet be a part of it.

She watched him storm out of the drawing room. She ached for Jeffrey and the warm, companionable marriage they would have shared. Yet even after seeing him again, she couldn't quite convince herself to proceed with the divorce.

Perhaps in time…

Violet brushed another tear from her cheek. As she walked out of the drawing room and went in search of her cousin, she thought of Rule and what might lie ahead.

For the first time she wondered what her husband would say if he discovered her relationship with Jeffrey.

R
ule sat behind the desk in his office at Griffin Manufacturing. In the days after his discussion with Violet about selling the company, he had hired a solicitor who specialized in the sale of businesses and discreetly let it be known that Griffin was for sale. He also mentioned his interest in reinvesting the proceeds.

Two things occurred.

Buyers seemed to be crawling out of the woodwork, and stacks of business proposals flooded into his office.

Steamship lines offered stocks in return for development money, textile manufacturers wanted capital for expansion. There were mining ventures for sale, railway companies planning to crisscross the country with new routes that promised huge returns.

Next to the large stack in front of him sat a smaller stack Luke had brought for him to look at. Since graduating from Oxford, Luke had gone into the trading business. He was a broker of sorts, specializing in the riskiest kinds of investments. They were also the deals that paid the very highest returns.

Luke liked taking risks and he seemed to have a nose for sniffing out opportunities that on the surface appeared to be disastrous. He had made thousands of pounds for his clients—and an even larger sum for himself.

Rule glanced back down at the taller of the stacks. A few appeared to be sound investments. A number were downright swindles. Most fell somewhere in between.

He blew out a breath, wishing he had time to research the proposals more thoroughly, but he was buried in paperwork here in the office. He might have gained his ownership in the company from his marriage to Violet, but he worked as hard as any man in London to make it the success it was today.

He looked up at a knock at the door. His young male secretary, Terence Smythe, stood in the opening.

“Your wife is here, my lord. Shall I show her in?”

Rule frowned. The area around Tooley Street wasn't a very good neighborhood. He had warned Violet about coming down here alone. He sighed. At least now she had a carriage of her own and a footman to accompany her.

“Show her in, Terry.”

“Yes, my lord.” Young Terence disappeared and Violet appeared in the doorway.

“I was hoping we might speak…if you have the time.”

He wondered what was so important it couldn't wait until he got home. But Violet had been acting strangely for the past several days, avoiding him as much as possible, even more skittish than she had been when she had first arrived. He figured it was the promise she had made, her agreement to remain his wife for at least another month.

As far as Rule was concerned, that meant behaving as a wife in every way. He wanted to make love to her and he believed she wanted that, too. He meant to see it done at the first opportunity.

He smiled as she walked toward him. “What is it, love, that has brought you all the way down here?”

“There is something I wish to discuss.” Removing her bonnet and tossing it onto an empty chair, she walked behind his desk to where he stood. Her gaze slanted down to the business proposals sitting on top.

She was dressed simply today, in a practical dark brown woolen gown trimmed with ecru lace. She wore her fiery hair in a plain chignon at the nape of her neck and he fought an urge to pull out the pins and run his fingers through it.

“Have you had any luck with the sale?” she asked, eyeing him from beneath a row of burnished lashes. He remembered the way her pretty green eyes had widened in shock as he made love to her and she reached her first release. He remembered the feel of her gloving him so sweetly, and desire flared inside him.

He cleared his throat, banishing the memory. “Actually, we've had a good deal of interest. I think we may receive a formal offer very soon.”

She looked back down at the papers. “And these are the business opportunities we'll be considering?”

He nodded, forced his attention away from the luscious curve of her breast. “If I ever get time to go over them. We need to be extremely careful. There is a great deal of money at stake and a good deal of information to examine. Unfortunately, company business has to come first and it is extremely time-consuming.”

“I know.” She looked up at him. She was standing so close the scent of violets drifted up from her hair—his shaft filled, lengthening and thickening inside his trousers. Tonight he would go to her, take her in his arms and kiss her until she responded as she had the night of the fire.

“I know how busy you are,” she said, and he made himself concentrate on her words and not memories of their heated lovemaking. “In fact, that is the reason I came. I wanted to see if I might be able to help.”

“Help? In what way?”

She glanced toward the window. Outside, several tall chimney stacks down by the docks blew thick plumes of smoke into the air.

She returned her attention to him. “What is the most recent news on the Boston plant?” she asked, avoiding the question. “Does all seem to be in order?”

“Reports come in by ship every week. Recently, I received news of an upcoming change in management. Apparently Mr. Haskell will be leaving. With the time it takes to receive the news, he will already be gone, replaced by a man named Douglas Shearing. The Boston branch has always been extremely well run. I doubt there will be much of an upset.”

“I certainly hope not. Assuming Mr. Shearing is as competent as Mr. Haskell.”

“Haskell did an excellent job. It's a shame we'll be losing him.”

Violet's smile held an edge of triumph that suddenly made him uneasy. “I am glad you think so. Because, you see, I am J. A. Haskell.”

He frowned. “What are you talking about?”

“I am telling you that I have been running the Boston plant for quite some time. I am the one who hired Mr. Shearing to take Haskell's place, since I would be traveling here. So you see I have an interest in making certain that he is as capable as he seemed.”

He shook his head. “I don't believe it. How could you possibly handle that sort of job?”

Her smile only broadened. “I helped my father before
he died. After he was gone, I decided I was tired of sitting home grieving, so I went to the office and started to work. About the same time, the real Mr. Haskell fell ill and left the company, and I took over his job. I kept my efforts quiet, but I'm sure any number of people knew. They were simply smart enough to keep silent.”

He shook his head. “I would have known. I would have recognized a woman by the correspondence I received.”

“You may not wish to believe it, but it's true. And the reason I am here today is to ask you for a job. You see, I am going mad rattling around your house with nothing to do but sew and read.”

“You are here for a
job?
” A second wave of disbelief hit him. He was certain his eyebrows must be touching the top of his forehead.

“That is what I said.”

“That is impossible.”

“And why is that?”

“Aside from the fact that you are a woman, you are also my wife. That is why.”

“Your sister-in-law owns a hat shop and she is the wife of a duke. From what I hear, she still works there on occasion.”

“A hat shop isn't the same as running a gun manufacturing plant.”

“No, thank God, it isn't. Making hats doesn't interest me in the least. Keeping track of sales and inventory, finding ways to increase production, that I find fascinating.”

“No.”

She set her small hands on her hips. “If you won't hire me, I shall knock on doors all over London until I find someone who will.”

“I swear, Violet—”

“There is no need to swear. Simply say yes.” She
reached out and caught his hand. Hers was pale and warm, his large and dark. The contact made him hard again.

“If you want me to stay here as your wife, then you can't expect me to sit and do nothing. Please, Rule. You asked me to give you a chance. Now I am asking you to give me that same chance.”

He tried to think of an argument that would dissuade her, but she looked so pretty standing in front of him, so incredibly sweet, and under it all he could see her fierce determination.

And it wouldn't be for long. Soon the company would be sold and he would be running other businesses, companies that posed new challenges.

He looked down at the stack of proposals on his desk. “All right, you handle the day-to-day operation, as you did in Boston, and I'll begin looking into the different investments we'll be considering.”

“Oh, Rule, thank you!” She surprised him by throwing her arms around his neck and kissing him soundly on the cheek.

Never one to miss an opportunity, Rule set his hands at her waist, lowered his head and very thoroughly kissed her. For an instant she resisted, pressing her small hands against his chest. Rule gentled the kiss but didn't stop, coaxing instead of demanding, tasting and nibbling until she was pliant in his arms.

The kiss changed from warm to scorching hot. His hands found the swell of her bosom, smoothed over the fullness, moved to the tiny buttons closing up the front of her simple woolen dress. He pulled the fabric apart, reached inside and found her breasts.

Violet moaned as he palmed them, gently caressed them. She was wearing a corset today that closed up the front, and he deftly popped the hooks that held the garment together. Her breasts spilled forward and he bent his head
and took one into his mouth, tasting creamy skin and a rigid pink nipple.

God, he was so hard. He couldn't remember wanting a woman the way he wanted Violet. He closed his teeth around the stiff tip, laved it with his tongue and felt her tremble. Damn, he had to have her.

He was throbbing, aching to be inside her. He glanced toward the door. His secretary wouldn't interfere no matter what sounds might emerge from inside the office.

“We have to stop,” Violet said breathlessly. “We can't possibly—” Rule silenced her with another burning kiss. Soft nibbling kisses followed. Wet, hot, fiery kisses had her squirming against him.

“Rule…please…”

Taking that
please
to mean please continue, he did, gently biting her earlobe, running his tongue over her shoulder blade, pulling the corset open as far as he could, squeezing those luscious breasts, kissing them, wishing there was nothing between them but skin.

They were both still clothed, but he was a man who rarely missed an opportunity and there was no time like the present.

Lifting her up on the desk, he eased her backward, hoisted her skirt and shoved up her petticoats, exposing her drawers and stockings.

“What… What are you doing?”

He didn't stop to answer. He could barely see her face for all the ruffles and fluff, but he didn't care. Settling himself between her legs, he slipped his hand inside the split in her drawers and began to stroke her, felt how wet and hot she was, how ready.

Violet's head fell back on the desk. She moaned and a surge of triumph filled him, along with a hot rush of desire. He was so hard he hurt, his control pushed nearly to the limit.

Not yet,
he told himself, though it took a will of iron. Untying the string on her drawers, he slid them down over her hips all the way to her knees, bent and set his mouth against the lovely tuft of copper curls at the entrance to her sex.

“Oh my God!” Violet stiffened for an instant then started to tremble as he caressed her with his mouth and tongue. She made a little whimpering sound and began to come, fierce spasms that had her pressing a hand over her mouth to stifle her cries of pleasure. Rule opened the front of his trousers, found the entrance to her passage and eased himself deep inside.

Pleasure poured through him. And a feeling of rightness unlike anything he could recall. He had meant to take her gently, but when she arched upward, seating him even more deeply, when he realized she was once more nearing release, his control completely snapped.

Deep, pounding strokes carried him higher—long, penetrating thrusts sent them both over the edge. Driving into her again and again, caught in the wild frenzy of release, he hotly spilled his seed.

He wasn't sure how long it was before his taut muscles relaxed. Violet stirred beneath him, rousing him from his languor and reminding him where they were. Using his handkerchief to remove the remnants of their lovemaking, he carefully rearranged her clothes and helped her up from the desk.

Her face was flaming and he thought how charming it was that such a passionate creature could also be so sweet.

She looked up at him from beneath her lashes. “I don't…don't know what to say. I—I cannot believe what just happened.”

Rule only smiled. “It's all right. It is perfectly acceptable for a married couple to make love.”

“In that…that way? In the middle of the day? In your office with people working right outside?”

He grinned. He couldn't help it. “Anywhere you like, sweetheart.”

He was startled when her lovely eyes filled with tears. “Something must be wrong with me. I could have stopped you but I didn't. Women don't behave this way.”

Rule eased her into his arms and gently kissed her forehead. “A passionate wife is the most desirable possession a man can have.”

“I'm not a possession,” she said against his chest.

“No, you're not. You are simply a woman and my wife.”

She moved her head back and forth. “You don't understand.”

Rule caught her chin, forcing her to look up at him. “What is it I don't understand?”

“We don't… We don't even love each other.”

An unexpected tightness filled his chest. “Perhaps not. But we care for each other and we desire each other. Some marriages are based on far less.”

Violet made no reply. Moving away from him, she straightened her garments a little more, retrieved her bonnet and pulled it on over her disheveled copper curls.

“Thank you for giving me the job,” she said.