Rule's Bride (14 page)

He simply nodded. “We'll come to work together in the morning.”

Violet made no reply, just opened the door and fled the office.

Rule found himself grinning. His wife was even more responsive than he recalled. And as he had said, mutual desire was a good foundation for a marriage.

He was still grinning when the door swung open anew and a tall blond man he didn't recognize stood in the opening.

“Are you Rule Dewar?”

“I am.”

Without another word, the blond man stormed across the office and punched him squarely in the face.

 

At the sound of the front door slamming, Violet sat up straighter on the sofa. An instant later, Rule appeared in the drawing room doorway. His black hair was mussed, his jacket missing and his white shirt torn. A dark look marred his perfect features and there was a bruise on his cheek.

Violet shot up from the sofa. “Great heavens, what's happened?”

Rule strode toward her, his eyebrows pulled together in a scowl. “Who the bloody hell is Jeffrey Burnett?”

Violet felt the color drain from her face. “Jeffrey? Jeffrey is… He is a friend.”

His features tightened. He knuckled his battered cheek and she noticed bruises on his hand, as well. “More than a friend, it would seem. He told me in no uncertain terms that you belonged to him!”

Alarm sent her heartbeat soaring. “I—I knew Jeffrey in Boston. You hadn't come back. Jeffrey and I became friends. He spoke of a marriage between us…after…after I arranged an annulment.”

Rule smiled mirthlessly. “But that isn't going to happen now, is it, sweetheart? Certainly not after that little performance that took place in my office this afternoon.”

“How dare you!”

“How dare
you!
Acting so high and mighty, making me feel guilty for what happened during the years you were still in Boston. All the time, you were having intimate little rendezvous with
Jeffrey.
”

“We weren't having intimate little rendezvous. We were
friends. Nothing happened, as you well know, since I was a virgin the night you took me.”

“But he is here now and you are no longer a virgin, are you, my love? What plans have the two of you made?”

He was fairly seething and for the first time she realized he was also wildly jealous. Why the thought gave her a little jolt of satisfaction, she could not say.

“I haven't made any plans with Jeffrey. In fact, I told him the truth—that our marriage had been consummated and you are truly my husband.”

He eyed her with suspicion.

“You fought with Jeffrey?” she asked, though clearly he had.

A smug smile crossed his face. His bottom lip, she noticed, was slightly puffy on one side. “That's right. And if you think I look bad, you ought to see him.”

Worry for Jeffrey had her leaping to her feet. “You didn't hurt him!”

He shrugged his wide shoulders. “I boxed at Oxford. I still enjoy the sport with friends. He should have found that out before he threw the first punch.”

“Oh, my goodness!” She started for the door, terrified for Jeffrey, but Rule caught her arm.

“Your Jeffrey is fine. I guess it took him a few days to work up his courage after your little tête-à-tête at Caroline's. He was good and mad when he got to the office, but I didn't really hurt him. It isn't his fault the man is in love with you.”

She blinked and stared up at Rule. “He told you that?”

“He didn't have to. The question is, are you in love with him?”

She didn't answer right away, and Rule's jaw hardened. “It doesn't matter. You're
my
wife, not his.”

“Are you certain he is all right?”

“Not that I much care, but, yes, the man is fine. What I want to know is what his intentions are toward you?”

Violet held her ground. “As I said, I've spoken to him. He knows there can never be anything more between us. You needn't worry about Jeffrey—” Her chin went up. “As long as I needn't worry about you.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“It means I will remain faithful as long as you do.”

A muscle bunched in his cheek. He caught hold of her shoulders. “I am not about to stand for my wife having an affair! Stay away from Jeffrey Burnett!”

Violet just smiled. “
I
am not the sort to be unfaithful.”

Rule made no reply. Clearly the statement did not apply to him.

Dear God, why couldn't she have stayed in Boston, proceeded with the annulment and married Jeffrey? She had no doubt of his loyalty, his fidelity. She could trust Jeffrey.

She desired Rule. The night of the fire she had trusted him with her life.

But she didn't dare to trust him with her heart.

T
he drafty old building that served as a gymnasium was quiet except for the shuffle of feet in the middle of the ring. On Wednesdays Rule and Luke met late in the afternoon for their weekly sparing match. Both had boxed in college and now enjoyed the chance to stay in condition and keep up their skills.

Moving to Luke's right, Rule swung a hard punch that connected with his best friend's jaw. Luke danced backward, just out of reach, and swung a counterpunch that tapped Rule's chin good and hard. Rule stepped in for two quick jabs and a long hard punch that elicited a grunt from his opponent.

Luke raised his hands in defeat. “Enough! You are impossible to best today.”

Rule dropped his fists as he walked toward his friend. “Sorry. I didn't mean to get carried away.”

Luke reached up and rubbed his jaw, wiggled it back and forth to test the extent of his injury, which wasn't much since they were so evenly matched.

“You may as well tell me what's wrong,” Luke said.
“You came in here with a swollen lip and a bruise on your cheek and said it was nothing. Obviously it was something.”

Rule blew out a breath. Bare-chested, each wearing only a pair of leggings, they headed for the locker room at the back of the gymnasium.

“A couple of days ago, a fellow showed up at my office. We exchanged a few punches before he got the point that I wasn't about to give my wife to him.”

“What?”

Rule opened his locker and pulled out a linen towel. “The reason Violet came to London wasn't to begin our marriage, it was to get an annulment. Apparently, she and this Jeffrey fellow were planning to marry once she was free of her unwanted husband and returned home to Boston.”

Luke whistled out a breath.

“Exactly.”

“So what did you tell him?”

“I told him he was too late. That Violet was my wife in every way and that wasn't going to change. I advised him in no uncertain terms that he had better go back where he came from.”

“You think he will?”

“I don't know. As long as he stays away from Violet, I don't give a bloody damn what he does.”

Luke opened his locker and pulled out his own linen towel. “So I guess married life agrees with you.”

Rule shrugged his shoulders. “I haven't been married long enough to know.”

“But so far you have no complaints.”

Rule looked up at him. “Why are you suddenly so interested in marriage?”

Luke just laughed and shook his head. “I'm not. I was just curious is all.” They both stripped naked and headed
for a row of overhead buckets filled with water. Each of them soaped up then stood beneath a bucket and pulled the metal chain that released the water through a sieve.

Rule shivered against the cold as he rinsed off the soap, but exercising his muscles felt good and the chilly water revived him.

“How does Violet feel about all of this?” Luke asked, returning to their former conversation.

“She's married to me not him. So far, she hasn't complained.”

“Well, that has to be good, I guess.” Luke towel-dried his thick, dark brown hair. “Are you two going to Severn's ball tonight?”

Rule mopped water from his chest and nodded. “I thought Violet might enjoy it.”

“Might take her mind off this Jeffrey chap.”

Rule cast his friend a dark glance. “I'll keep her mind off Burnett—have no doubt of that.”

Luke just grinned, but Rule was deadly serious. For the past two nights he'd been too angry to go to Violet's bed. They had traveled to work together in the mornings, but spoke only of business during the day. So far Violet had proved as competent as she had claimed, which both irritated and impressed him. She was his wife, dammit. The only duties he wanted her to perform were in his bed!

Tonight and every other night from now on, he vowed, he intended to make love to her. Violet might think she was in love with the American, but Rule believed the passion they shared meant far more than the pallid emotion written about in romantic poetry.

“So I guess I'll see you tonight,” Luke said, pulling him away from his thoughts.

“We'll be there.”

Rule watched Luke leave and a hint of suspicion crept into his mind. Violet had asked her cousin Caroline to join them. Surely that wasn't the reason Luke had mentioned the ball?

Rule shook his head. He was imagining things. The last thing Luke Barclay wanted was a wife. The American girl was an innocent. Luke had only met her once. He couldn't possibly have an interest.

Still, the suspicion stayed with him all the way home.

 

Caroline spent hours choosing the perfect gown for the ball that night, a pale blue silk exactly the color of her eyes. The skirt was incredibly full and parted in the front to expose an underskirt of a deeper blue heavily embroidered with roses. The bodice was cut in a
V
at the neckline, modest but low enough to show a hint of her bosom, propped tantalizingly up by her corset.

She hoped Luke would like it.

Caroline turned toward the mirror. Since the night she had first met him at the Wyhurst ball, she had seen Luke three different times. Once at a soiree given by a friend of her grandmother's, once at a house party she and her grandmother had attended and once when she and her maid had “accidentally” stumbled upon him at a small coffee shop just off Bond Street, a meeting he had suggested at the party the night before.

Her heart started thumping at the memory. With his dark hair and deep brown eyes, his hard jaw and that intriguing scar through his eyebrow, the man was dangerously handsome.

He was also a complete and utter rogue, and Caroline knew encouraging him was playing with fire.

A light knock sounded.

“Your friends have arrived, miss.” Nell, her ladies' maid, spoke to her through the door.

“Tell them I am coming right down.”

“Yes, miss.”

Whisking her silk reticule off the dresser, Caroline tugged up her elbow-length white gloves and hurried to the door.

Both Violet and Rule stood at the bottom of the staircase in conversation with her grandmother. Clearly Grandmother was impressed by Rule's good looks and impeccable manners. And it didn't hurt that he was the brother of a duke.

Grandmother looked up as Caroline reached the bottom of the stairs. “There you are, dear heart.” She flicked a glance at Rule. “I told you she wouldn't keep you waiting, my lord. My granddaughter is very considerate. It's been a great pleasure having her here for this visit.”

“It's been wonderful,” Caroline said, meaning it. “I've so enjoyed the chance for us to get to know each other.” And during the weeks she had been in London, she had come to like her grandmother very much. There was no set date for her return to Boston. She could stay as long as she liked.

London was so very exciting. She told herself staying had nothing to do with Lucas Barclay.

“If you ladies are ready,” Rule said, extending an arm to each of them, “I believe it is time for us to leave. Good night, Mrs. Lockhart.” He smiled. “You may trust your granddaughter is in very good hands.”

Grandmother blushed like a schoolgirl. “Oh, I am certain of that, my lord.”

They made their way out to the carriage and settled themselves inside. It didn't take long to reach the mansion belonging to the Earl of Severn. Golden lights streamed from rows of tall windows, and two liveried footmen raced up to open the carriage door.

One of them, young and blond, helped the women down
and Rule followed. Caroline noticed that his brilliant blue eyes rarely strayed from his wife and even more surprising, Violet's gaze often went in search of his.

It seemed to Caroline that Dewar meant to keep his wife no matter the cost, and though Caroline believed that Jeffrey would have been a more suitable match for her cousin, she was beginning to think there was a chance she was wrong.

As they moved through the reception line into the ballroom, Rule led the women toward a group of his friends, people Caroline had met at the Wyhurst ball or at various affairs she had attended with her grandmother.

Her heartbeat quickened for a moment before she realized Luke was not among them.

“You remember Lord Wellesley,” Violet said of tall, elegant Sheridan Knowles, Sherry to his friends.

She dropped into a curtsy. “It is good to see you, my lord.”

He bowed slightly. “Miss Lockhart.”

“And Lord Nightingale?”

She turned the earl's direction. “A pleasure, my lord.”

“The pleasure is mine, Miss Lockhart.” Though he smiled and bowed politely, a sadness lingered in his expression.

More of Rule's friends came and went from the circle, including tall, black-haired, incredibly handsome Jonathan Savage, and hard-looking Quentin Garrett, Viscount March. Rule's brother Royal and his lovely blonde wife arrived in the circle.

“Miss Lockhart,” the duke said. “I hope you've been enjoying your time in London.”

“Very much so, Your Grace.” She chatted with the duchess for a while. Then Lord Wellesley asked her to dance. She forced herself not to look for Luke and began to wonder if he had decided not to come.

It was better if he didn't, she knew. The man had no desire to marry and she wasn't ready for marriage yet, either. Still, she was drawn to him.

At the end of the dance, she looked up and spotted him at the edge of the floor, his dark hair mussed as if he had come in out of the wind. When he looked at her, his eyes gleamed with appreciation. His smile held a hint of danger. Her heart took a treacherous leap, and Caroline knew she was in serious trouble.

 

Strains of a waltz filled the air, along with the chatter of the dozens of guests in the ballroom. Some distance from the dance floor, Violet stood next to Rule and an attractive, mustached man with dark brown silver-streaked hair. Charles Whitney, Rule had said, was interested in buying Griffin Manufacturing. Yesterday Whitney had contacted their solicitor and made a formal offer to purchase the company.

Violet regarded him closely. A man in his early fifties of medium height and build, Whitney possessed an air of confidence that made him seem larger than he actually was.

“My husband tells me you are interested in buying Griffin, Mr. Whitney.”

Whitney smiled. “Very interested. I am hoping your husband and I will be able to come to an agreement very soon.”

She smiled a bit too brightly. “Howard Griffin was my father. If you buy the company, you will be buying it from both of us.”

One of Whitney's silver-flecked eyebrows arched up. “I see.”

“I'm afraid my wife is one of a handful of women who are interested in business,” Rule said. “I am still growing used to the notion.”

“I daresay a woman in the business of making guns is quite a novelty. Can you shoot a pistol as well as build one, my lady?”

“I assure you I can, Mr. Whitney. My father was a very good teacher.”

Whitney chuckled. “A woman, then, with whom a man should not trifle.”

Violet smiled. There was a hint of amusement in Whitney's voice but no disapproval. She thought that she liked him and hoped that he turned out to be the man who purchased the company her father had built.

They spoke a moment more before Rule led her away. “I had a chance to read Whitney's offer. It was a good one. I'll let you take a look at it in the morning.”

“He wants both of the plants? The one here and also the one in Boston?”

Rule nodded. “Apparently his man in America had already done a good bit of research on Griffin in Boston. He's seen the plant in operation, though neither man has reviewed the new designs and that is a condition of the offer. And of course Whitney will want to see our ledgers, take a look at the bottom line.”

“He'll like what he sees. Griffin is a very profitable company.”

“Whitney owns a number of different companies. He has a reputation for intelligence and honesty.”

“On first impression, I like him. Of course, that doesn't always mean much.”

“Oh, I don't know, I think you have very good instincts.” He grinned. “You married me, didn't you?”

She smiled, though it wasn't the truth. She had married Rule because her father wished it. Her own instincts had led her to Jeffrey.

“Your cousin has returned,” Rule said as he spotted Caroline walking toward them. “I need a word with my brother. I won't be long.”

Caroline stopped in front of Violet, an anxious look on her face. “Jeffrey is here,” she whispered the moment Rule was gone. “At this very moment, he is walking straight toward you.”

“Oh, dear Lord.” Violet looked over Caroline's shoulder to see Jeffrey's blond head moving through the crowd. Then he was right in front of her.

“Violet, darling.” He took her hand and brought it to his lips. “I am so very glad to see you. I've missed you so much.” He had a bruise on his chin and dark skin around his left eye.

“You fought with Rule. Are you all right?”

He scoffed. “The man deserved a beating for the way he treated you.”

But as Rule had said, clearly Jeffrey had gotten the worst of it. “Rule is my husband, Jeffrey. I tried to tell you that before.”

“The man is a blackguard. He took advantage of your innocence.”

“We're married. Please, Jeffrey, I beg you. Go back to Boston. Make a life for yourself with someone else.” She rested a hand on his arm. “You deserve to be happy, Jeffrey.”

“I'm not leaving. Not until I'm certain you're going to be all right.”

Violet started to reply when she felt the unmistakable presence of her husband beside her.

“If you're wise, Burnett, you'll take my wife's advice. You're poaching on another man's territory. Unless you wish to continue where we left off the last time—”

“No!” Violet stepped between the two men. She noticed
several heads turn in their direction and lowered her voice. “You are both done with fighting.” She fixed her gaze on Jeffrey. “If you will excuse us, Mr. Burnett, I find I am suddenly thirsty.” She turned to Rule. “Would you be good enough, my lord, to escort me to the punch bowl?” Her eyes held his, silently demanding he agree.