“It won’t take but a moment and it’s far better than you attempting any sort of travel.”
His gaze searched hers for several moments and his shoulders slumped. “Very well.”
Violet couldn’t resist a slight smile and his frown returned.
“Why does that amuse you?”
“Because most men would argue on the matter with me.”
“Well I am not most men.”
No. No he wasn’t. Most men did not interest her in the way Duke did. Most men did not tempt her into breaking her own cardinal rules. Romance was not on the cards for her most especially not from Duke. She couldn’t lose her best friend because of some odd, fleeting desire to be in his arms.
∞∞∞
It was too late for him. He’d already gone mad. Who knew just a few weeks of bed rest could make a man go insane?
Duke fought to rise up from the library room chair, a pained breath hissing through his teeth, and he gripped the leather arms and pushed. The bruises were all but gone—it was mostly his ribs causing him discomfort at this point. If he sat around any longer, however, he might have more insane thoughts and a bit of jarring pain might at least bring him to his senses.
At least where Violet was concerned, anyway.
He hobbled around the Musgrave library, pausing to eye books that were clearly favorites, the tops of their spines more worn than others, the gilded lettering faded from the touch of a hundred fingers. He tried not to smile when he noted the wear on one particular book that sat slightly askew from the other books. “Filices Britannicæ; an history of the British proper ferns,” he murmured to himself.
Now was that Violet who had been reading it or one of the other sisters? He wouldn’t put it past any of them, but it would not surprise him if Violet hoped to gain some knowledge of the plants she so enjoyed talking to. He flicked the book open with a smile and a shake of the head. He thought he knew Violet so well yet barely a day went by when he did not learn something new of her.
Or himself it seemed.
Who knew a woman talking to a plant made one want to press her up against a wall and kiss her most thoroughly? At this rate, his promises to Roman were going to turn to ash.
He snapped the book shut and slid it back onto the shelf. Once Christmas was over, it would be fine. They would continue to be friends and he would move onto another conquest. Someone who could join him in his bed without making his heart feel as though it had somehow separated from his body. The only way to feel whole was to wait for it to return to him—in the form of Violet.
Duke leaned against the bookshelf and peered up at the painted ceiling depicting various angels and mythical creatures. He was definitely mad.
The door to the library burst open and Duke straightened so quickly his ribs pulled. He gave a groan and put a hand to his side.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.” Violet dashed past a befuddled footman, her cheeks pink, cold air still radiating from a gray pelisse. She waved a letter at him. “I wanted to get this to you straight away.”
Frowning, he took the letter from her. He fingered the coarse paper, dashed a look over the scratchy penmanship then unfolded it. He scanned the contents, and he swore every ounce of breath left his lungs.
“Hellfire,” he couldn’t keep himself from uttering.
“Duke?”
“Where did you find this?” he demanded.
“It was at your office. I called at the house, but they had received no word from your father, so I decided to see if there was any correspondence at the office.”
“Goddamn it,” he said more loudly.
Violet’s eyes widened. “Duke?” She put a hand to his arm. “What is going on?”
Jaw set, he eyed the letter once more. He should have known the beating wouldn’t be the last of it. And now he was in no condition to make the bastards pay. He scrunched up the letter and tossed it against the nearest wall. “Bloody damn it all to hell!”
Taking a step back, Violet eyed him. Her throat bobbed. “Duke?”
He took a long breath and met her gaze. “Forgive me,” he managed to whisper through a tight throat. His pulse thudded hard through him, his entire body on fire. What was he going to do? He could still scarcely walk for long let alone go after the criminals who had his father.
“Duke?” she repeated and stepped close again.