An Undesirable Duke

by Dayna Quince

  When she took her chair, he greeted her with all the warmth of an unlit candle. It was as though last night had never happened, or the days leading up to it. Everything she’d said, everything they’d done, had evaporated like dew under a hot sun. His expression said nothing; even his eyes were decidedly cold as he turned his attention to another guest.

  Her wine glass was filled, and now that everyone was seated, footmen set down the first course. Violet looked down at her soup, her stomach roiling. Sweat beaded on the skin of her neck and brow yet she felt cold, chilled all the way to her bones.

  She was about to excuse herself when Roderick stood, tapping his glass with a spoon to gain every one’s attention.

  “Forgive me, but I could not wait any longer.” Everyone looked at him, including Violet. She pressed a hand to her stomach, willing it to wait until Roderick finished his speech, and then she would leave. She took a sip of cool water to settle her nerves.

  “As you all know, you were invited here with matrimony in mind. My brother has vowed never to wed and wishes to see me married before he returns to his exotic travels. Duty, lineage…and all that claptrap.” This Roderick said with a sneer. The tension in the room climbed several degrees, and Violet peeked at Weirick to see his response. He was still as a marble statue and equally as cold. Whispers filled the gap in Roderick’s speech before he continued.

  “While I have enjoyed the company of everyone, there is one woman who stood out. She is brave, she is kind, and she is capable of tolerating my incomparable charm.” He paused as chuckles filled the air. “But, in all seriousness, I could not imagine a more…” He swallowed and looked to Violet.

  Violet’s whole body became alert. Unease slithered down her back, and she wished for all the world that she could disappear into thin air. All eyes turned to her. She licked her lips. “Yes?”

  “The word I’m searching for is deserving. You deserve so much more than I fear I am capable of giving you. But I promise to try, Violet”—he cleared his throat—“that is, if you will have me.”

  Her mind blanked. There was nothing inside her but cold black space. Someone took her hand and squeezed it.

  “Violet?” her mother said in her ear, but she sounded far too distant to be that close.

  “Say you’ll be my wife, and I will give you everything,” Roderick implored.

  Violet swallowed, she willed her head to turn to Weirick, but Roderick’s intense gaze held her. His brow puckered, as if he was willing her to speak, to say… What? Her mind screamed. Why would he do this?

  “Roderick, I…” I don’t understand, she willed the words back to him.

  The expectant faces of every guest weighed on her, but she refused to acknowledge them.

  “Say you’ll be mine and I will do whatever will make you happy,” he said slowly.

  Violet nodded, just once. The table erupted with gasps and applause. Roderick sprinted around the table, hugging her, kissing her cheek. “Good girl,” he whispered in her ear but then stepped back. “Just to be clear, that was a yes, wasn’t it?”

  “Yes.” Violet nodded, but this time she looked to Weirick, because there was no way he was going to be immune now. He had forbid Roderick’s pursuit of Violet from the very beginning. Her mother blocked her view as she hugged Roderick but then stepped aside. Weirick still sat, unmoving. His eyes caught Violet and he slowly stood. As he did so, everyone else in the room quieted. His eyes blazed with something terrifying and fierce, and then he swept his arm across the table. “No!” He roared.

  There were screams from some of the women. The duchess hurried everyone out. All but Violet, her mother, Roderick, Weirick, Bernie, Chester, and the duchess remained.

  Weirick turned on Roderick. “I told you not her, never her.”

  “And I didn’t listen. Someone in this family must have honor, Weirick.”

  Weirick launched himself at his brother, and they crashed to the floor. Chester was there instantly, trying to pull him off.

  “Stop it!” Violet cried.

  Her mother picked up the wine bottle and promptly dumped it on the pile of men. They stopped fighting, looking at each other in confusion.

  “There now, stop behaving like children and stand up,” her mother barked. “What the devil is going on?”

  “That is precisely what I want to know.” Lavinia stepped between her sons and pushed them farther apart. “None of this was part of the plan, Roderick. You’ve humiliated poor Violet, and now, while I had happily accepted the idea of you joining my family—”

  “No.” Weirick growled. “Violet is not marrying Roderick.”

  “And who are you to say who I marry?” Violet turned on him, her cold fear turning to a blazing rage as she faced him.

  “Not him,” Weirick said, his voice breaking, his eyes piercing her. Finally, she could see his anguish, and though it made her happy because she finally knew he cared for her, maybe he even loved her, the cost of resisting that love would kill them both. She had to do something, even if it meant getting him to the altar with a pistol in his back.

  She pulled off her glove and threw it at his feet. “Name your second.” Her hands shook, but she held his stunned gaze.

  “You’re mad.”

  “Absolutely. You’ll marry me or you’ll meet me at dawn. Choose.”

  “Violet.” He raised his hands, as if she already held a pistol to his heart.

  “I choose Bernie, can you shoot Bernie?”

  “Of course!” Bernie said excitedly from somewhere behind Violet.

  “I’ll be his second. I don’t back down from a challenge,” Roderick said.

  Weirick backed away from them, glaring at all of them. “You’re all mad.” He growled then quit the room through the servant’s entrance.

  All Violet’s courage leeched out of her in that single moment, and as Weirick disappeared, she dropped to her knees.

  A blur of faces and bodies came to her aid, lifting her from the floor. She found her feet again as her mother held her face between her hands. “Dear child, I hope you know what you’re doing.”

  “I don’t.” Violet folded into her mother’s embrace, grateful for the bodily support.

  Chapter 22

  Weirick rode to the only place he might possibly find the space to think, or the advice to help him choose what was right. And if all else failed, Sonam could beat some sense into him. He rode Hugo until they both were covered in sweat and dust before making his way to Sonam’s cottage in the dark. Tying Hugo, Weirick unsaddled him by moonlight and used his jacket to rub him down, leaving it draped over his back for warmth. It wasn’t much. Weirick would have to return Hugo to the comfort of his stall soon.

  Inside he found Sonam, already seated at the table with a cup of tea waiting.

  “Do you claim supernatural powers now?”

  “You’ve been muttering angrily while tending poor Hugo. He is very disquieted.”

  “I’ll give him an apple when I return.”

  “What upsets you, Weirick?”

  “I’ve been challenged to a duel.”

  “I would think that would amuse you.”

  “By Violet.” Weirick spat.

  “You’ve angered her that much? Stop pacing the floor and sit. Only when you are still, can you find proper balance.”

  Weirick exhaled, his fists clenching as he slammed himself into the vacant chair. Sonam nudged the cup toward him. “I found some helpful herbs, drink.”

  Weirick took a sip, bitter fluid filling his mouth.” He grimaced and swallowed it down.

  “She has thrown the gauntlet. Why?”

  “She wants me to marry her or she’ll shoot me.”

  Sonam chuckled. “I’d like to meet your Violet.”

  “She isn’t my Violet. She accepted Roderick’s proposal easily enough.”

  “When did this occur?”

  “Just before she threw down her challenge.”

  Sonam frowned. “There are many holes in this cheese.”


  Weirick sighed. Where could he begin? There was no way to tell this story without revealing his every dastardly action. He began to fill in the holes, sweating under the steady pressure of Sonam’s gaze. He removed his waistcoat by the end of it and rolled up his sleeves. He’d drunk the last of his bitter tea and surprisingly, his head did feel clearer.

  Sonam finished his own tea and removed the cups to the small kitchen area.

  “Well, what do I do?”

  “You must be honest with yourself,” Sonam said. “What is it you want to do?”

  “I want to leave England.”

  Sonam chuckled. “Is that was you truly want?”

  Weirick clenched his teeth before answering. “It’s what I’ve been planning all this time. You doubt me?”

  “You doubt yourself, Weirick.”

  “Damn it, tell me what to do. I can’t duel with Violet, and I can’t let her marry Roderick.”

  “You believe she would?”

  “She doesn’t have a choice. It was announced in front of everyone.”

  “I see one choice for you,” Sonam began. “One choice that will answer all your questions regarding Violet.”

  Weirick held his breath. “What is it?”

  “I can’t tell you.”

  Weirick scowled. “What good are you if you don’t tell me?”

  “Part of the choice is discovering it for yourself. I think you’re close, my friend, but first you have to stop fighting.”

  “Fighting is the only thing I’m good at, other than— “

  “I understand, but I disagree with you.”

  “Sonam, just bloody tell me.”

  “What kind of mentor would I be if I gave you all the answers?”

  Weirick scoffed. “You’re not my mentor, you’re my friend.”

  “I am both, but I still won’t tell you. Some paths must be traveled alone.”

  Weirick didn’t think it was possible to leave angrier than when he arrived. He pushed out of his chair, his hands itching for something to strangle or hit. “I have to return Hugo.”

  “Go, my friend, and come back when you’ve made your choice.” Sonam smiled at Weirick, a rare occurrence.

  Weirick nodded, not wanting to make an enemy out of the only friend he had left. His body felt heavy and weak, and he wished he could fall onto his bed and sleep a hundred nights. Weirick saddled Hugo and tossed himself up, riding into the night. He had a choice to make, but he didn’t know what that choice was. What he did know, was that he wasn’t going to face Violet at dawn.

  * * *

  Dawn came swiftly. Weirick knew this because he hadn’t yet fallen asleep. He glared at the rising sun, a pale orb masked behind the morning bank of clouds. His eyes burned as he watched it rise, slowly but with determination. He cursed the sun and turned away from the window, knocking over the empty bottle of whiskey on his way to his bed. He climbed atop, burying his face in the pillows that still smelled like Violet.

  Violet.

  She was the center of everything, his doubts, his fears, his brightest memories. She was the single flame in his cold dark world, the only—

  Single. One. One choice.

  Violet. “Violet!” He shouted into the pillows. There was a bang, and he twisted as the panel door crashed against the wall. There she stood. His only choice. His Violet.

  And she had a gun. She raised it, pulling the trigger without hesitation.

  * * *

  Earlier that morning.

  * * *

  Violet stood on the grassy knoll, the damp cold not strong enough to break through the shield of anger she carried around herself. “Where is he?” She glared at the rising sun while Roderick, Bernie, and Chester stood waiting.

  “Did you think he’d come? Master of avoidance, he is. But I’m here, take note, Violet.” Roderick folded his arms petulantly.

  “Roderick, you don’t want to marry me. I know your secret.” Violet pinned him with a glare.

  “What secret?”

  “Quiet as the starless night, still as waters deep,” Violet said.

  Bernie moved closer. “What does that mean?”

  “He knows what it means.” Violet smiled as his eyes narrowed.

  “I’m not interested in fruitless endeavors—and it was she’s as quiet as a starless night, as still as waters deep.”

  “Coward.” Violet looked toward the castle as she muttered the word. “I’ll have that pistol now, Bernie.”

  “What? I specifically told you not to bring it.” Chester growled at Bernie.

  “I’m her second, of course I’d provide the pistol. This is serious business now, Chester. Love is serious business.”

  Chester rolled his eyes. Bernie handed the pistol to Violet, and Violet tucked it in the pocket of her cloak.

  “You don’t mean to shoot him, do you?” Roderick asked.

  “No, but I will hit something close to him.” Violet began to march to the castle.

  Roderick caught up to her and grabbed her elbow. “This is insane, you do realize that?”

  “Yes.”

  “Violet, I can’t let you shoot my brother.”

  “I told you, I won’t hit him.”

  “Forgive me if your word is not enough. You’ve every right to be angry, but this is getting out of hand.”

  Violet wiggled out of his hold. “I won’t shoot him, Roderick, but this duel has waited long enough, and he is not allowed to back out of it this time. He’s not leaving me behind again.”

  Splinters of wood rained over Weirick. He rolled out of the bed, landing with a bone-crushing thud. He groaned, curling into the fetal position, imagining Violet coming around the bed to finish him off. She did, but instead of raising the pistol, she set it down on the nightstand and bent over him.

  His head pounded, or maybe there was a herd of elephants in the room, but either way, when he looked up at her, his heart stopped.

  “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

  “You bloody shot at me.”

  “Yes, how else am I to get your attention?”

  “You. Shot. At. Me.” Weirick pushed up to his elbows.

  Violet rocked back on her heels and folded her arms. “And I’ll do much worse. Wherever you go, I will follow you. The moment you think you’ve lost me, I will appear and you will never be rid of me. I will haunt you, Weirick, just as you’ve haunted me these past five years.”

  Weirick sat up, his lungs working double time as his heart and brain settled into the notion that there was no danger. He reached for her, cupping the back of her head and pulling her lips to his.

  Roderick stood there with his hands on his hips. “Well, that looks settled.” He reached over them and took the pistol.

  “What’s happening?” Bernie asked from the cage of Chester’s arms by the panel door.

  “Something you won’t learn about for some time yet, poppet. Isn’t that right, Chester?”

  Chester glared at him. “I take it no one is injured.”

  “No.” Roderick closed the panel door and ushered them back toward the study. “I suspect there will be a great deal of healing now.”

  Violet broke away from Weirick and stared down at him. “What does this mean, Weirick?”

  “It means I surrender, Violet.” He pulled her back to him.

  “But what does that mean? Shall I begin packing immediately? I’m not sure of the weather conditions in Tibet or wherever you plan to go.”

  Weirick leaned on one elbow and stroked his chin. “Plan for Scottish weather, and we’ll be leaving immediately.”

  “What?” Violet fell back onto her bottom and turned her legs to the side. Her feet had begun to tingle. “Weirick…” Violet’s heart was ferociously trying to escape her chest. She pressed a hand to it, certain it was going to burst right out of her.

  “Wear the gown we danced in. I’m very fond of it. It will complete the memory of our wedding nicely.”

  Violet touched her head as a wave of dizziness wa
shed over her. “Weirick…”

  “Come here.” He pulled her into his arms, raining kisses over her cold, damp cheeks. He buried himself in her neck, breathing deep. She smelled of mist and grass. “Were you outside?” He held her back.

  “Yes, we had an appointment this morning, remember?”

  Weirick chuckled. “You can’t have thought I would show up and duel with you?”

  “It’s why I’m here now with”—Violet looked around—“Well, they were here.”

  “But they’re not now, we’re alone.” He stood and pulled her to her feet before lifting her to the bed. He began to untie her cloak, and Violet batted his hands away.

  “Oh, no you don’t. You have some explaining to do.”

  “What is there left to explain?” He stepped in between her legs and reached for her cloak again.

  “Stop.” Violet pushed him back. “You’ll not put another hand on me until I know what you are about. I shot at you, and now you want to marry me?”

  “The pistol was very persuasive.” He smiled crookedly.

  “No!” She shoved him back, hopping off the bed and stalking toward him. “Am I supposed to believe that charging in here with a gun magically made you love me?”

  “Violet.” He reached for her again.

  Violet swatted his hands away again. “No. I’ve been a fool, I know, but I’m not so stupid as to think it would be that easy. Why did you change your mind so suddenly?”

  “If you would listen, I could tell you.” He growled at her.

  Violet folded her arms. “I’m listening.”

  “Christ, Violet.” He ran a hand over his head, for once wishing he had hair to grab and rip out in frustration. “Before you came charging in here, ruining a priceless family heirloom that every Duke of Selbourne has slept on since the castle came into the family, I’ll have you know that I’ve been doing my own soul-searching.”

  “And?” She raised a haughty brow.

  He stepped close, grabbing her stubborn chin in one hand and staring into her eyes. “I love you.”

  Her eyes searched his. “Is that all? You thought it over and decided you love me?”