The hallway remained empty, their only company the excessive amounts of greenery and strung berries Aunt Sarah insisted upon. Somewhere in the house, her sisters could be heard. It was hard to tell if they were having an argument or a lively discussion but either way it made her smile. She and Clementine might now be married but a Musgrave never changed.
He made a dismissive noise. “I’m an earl, Vi. Everyone wants to attend the wedding of an earl’s daughter. Despite what many think, I am far from powerless. I procured your special license by way of persuasion, and I could have done the same with the church.”
“Well, I did not want a big wedding.”
Her father lifted his shoulders. “Of all my daughters, I always expected a society wedding for you.”
She shook her head. “I would have had to wait, Papa.”
A knowing smile crossed his lips, his pale grey eyes crinkling in the corners. “Ah. Keen to make Marmaduke your husband?”
“I was not worried he was going to run away or break our engagement you know.”
“Oh no, if there was ever a man more in love, it is him.” He gave her face another squeeze and dropped his hands. “You always were an impatient child—always taking the lead, always showing your sisters how it is done. I know you will demonstrate what a happy marriage can be.”
“They already have Clem and Roman,” she reminded him.
“Yes, but the twins look to you. They always have.” He rubbed the back of his neck with a smile. “But now you may share your responsibilities with your husband.”
“A husband who is waiting for me at the dower house, Papa…”
“Ah, yes. You had better make haste.” He turned then paused. “You could have had a fine honeymoon too. Somewhere far warmer than England.”
“And leave my family at Christmas?” She shook her head. “There is nowhere I would rather be. The dower house will do nicely for us.”
“And we shall see you at Church tomorrow?”
“But of course.”
Her father made a resigned gesture with his hands. “Tell your mother I tried, will you? She thinks I have not spoiled our eldest enough. Lord knows, you deserve spoiling.”
“My wedding was perfect and a honeymoon in the dower house is quite enough for me,” Violet said firmly.
The idea of leaving her family at Christmas and after such a dramatic time seemed preposterous. Why would she want to travel across muddy roads to suffer seasickness only to miss her family?
“And you can tell Mama that,” she added.
“I only hope your new husband does not mind sharing you with your family.”
“Not one jot.”
“Good.” Her father nodded. “Good. Excellent. A fine man that one.”
He gave her an absent wave and Violet wasted no time wrapping her cloak about her shoulders and dashing out across the light blanket of snow that had fallen overnight. It didn’t offer enough of a temptation for her to skitter across a pristine white covering, but it did coat the land around the house in a beautiful crystal sheen that sparkled in the sunlight. Her breaths misted in front of her, coming hard and fast by the time she reached the dower house.
The elegant building wasn’t usually used for anything other than the occasional escape when one of her sisters had a falling out, however, it offered a perfect little bit of seclusion for her and Duke whilst they figured out the rest of their future. There would be shock that Lady Violet Musgrave had married so swiftly and many would gossip for the reason behind it—a scandal of some sort most likely. Violet didn’t care. Let them talk as they had of her sisters all these years. She knew the truth.
The door whipped open before she could turn the doorknob. Duke held up a hand. “Do. Not. Move.”
She widened her eyes and froze. “What is it?”
“I need to carry you across the threshold.”
“Really?”
He nodded firmly, stepped outside, and swept a hand under her legs, making her squeal. He carried her swiftly into the house and shut the door behind him with a foot. Then he continued up the stairs.
Violet tapped his shoulder. “This is a long way past the threshold.”