and lit the candle.
Violet’s fears came pouring back. Hart was a duke, one of the most powerful in Britain. He could do anything he liked. Violet was clad only in her nightgown, not even a dressing gown to cover her, and it must be fairly obvious what she’d been doing.
Hart set down the chamber stick. The candle flame wavered in the draft from the open door, which he didn’t close.
The draft also brought a scent to Violet that she recognized from being with Daniel. That, paired with Hart’s mussed hair and his lack of greatcoat though he’d been outside, drew her conclusion.
Her heart burned. Did the duchess know he’d been dallying with a woman? The anger at him for betraying his remarkable wife made Violet’s head come up.
“Was there something you wanted, Your Grace?” she asked in icy tones.
“You were with my nephew.”
“Perhaps.”
“No perhaps about it. You’re his lover.”
Violet gave him a haughty look, perfected from her performances. “Daniel is a grown man, and I am a grown woman.”
Hart looked Violet straight in the eye. Ian did that when he had something important to say. Hart did it to unnerve people and keep them unnerved. “I know all about you, Miss Devereaux. Your father was the last son of a poor French family who were excellent at getting something for nothing. Thieves and confidence men, every single one of them, and you with your seances and table turnings are carrying on the tradition. I’m going to ask you bluntly, what are your designs on Daniel?”
Violet’s heart hurt again. “No designs at all. I’m helping with his motorcar, and that will be the end of it. No doubt I will remain in France while Daniel returns here. My mother will join me there. I thank you for looking after her while she resides in London. I take it she is still there?”
Hart ignored the question. “You plan to end your association with my very wealthy nephew? Who recently came into all the money in trust for him?”
Violet kept her head high. “I am not interested in Daniel’s money, regardless of what you think.”
The duke’s gaze roved her, but not in lechery. He was assessing her the same way she assessed him.
“I know Daniel is trying to get you out of an unwanted marriage,” he said. “I don’t mind him doing so. A woman shouldn’t be trapped. But after that, you walk away.”
Violet’s anger caught in her throat. “I intend to. Daniel owes me nothing.”
“No,” Hart said in a hard voice. “He doesn’t.”
Violet knew Daniel could send her away whenever he wished. She’d always understood that. Whatever control he’d let her have in the bed tonight was illusion. If Daniel wanted Violet to stay with him, that would be his choice. But Violet leaving could be hers.
Now that Hart stood before her and told her to go, however, Violet knew what the pain of it would be. Daniel called her strong, but she knew she wasn’t strong enough to leave Daniel behind for his own good.
“You might ask Daniel what he wants,” Violet said, voice losing its steadiness.
“Daniel is young, he’s wealthy, he’s generous. Any woman would like to get her claws into him.”
Violet remembered young Lady Victoria, who’d clung to Daniel’s arm while she all but demanded Violet predict that Daniel would marry her. Lady Victoria had slavered over Daniel’s wealth, powerful family, and handsomeness, and hadn’t cared one whit for the man himself.
That Hart could equate Violet with the steely little debutante hurt. “I’ve told you I’d go. But it’s Daniel’s choice too, isn’t it?”
“He’s from a family that makes notoriously bad choices. Including me. I’ve made hellaciously awful ones. If I can save Danny from them, I will. I’m sure you need money, Miss Devereaux. Name a sum and go. A clean break. That’s best.”
“You insult me.”
“I’m realistic, and so are you.”
“I don’t want your money.” Violet stopped. The desperate voice inside her told her to reach out and take what he offered. When her association with Daniel was over, she’d need money. She’d concluded that Daniel was right that she should face Jacobi and finish with him, and then the rest of her life was hers. But life was hard.
“You do want it,” Hart said. “I won’t name a sum. I’ll simply give it to you—
“A bargain you could easily forget.” Violet met Hart’s gaze with a pride to rival his. “I’ll make a different bargain. You let the decision for me to leave be mine and Daniel’s, on our terms. In return I won’t let on to your wife that you were with a woman tonight. Or maybe I will, if you don’t leave me in peace. The duchess is a kind soul, and she doesn’t deserve to be betrayed by one such as you.”
To Violet’s surprise, the duke took on a look of pure astonishment. “With a woman . . . ?”
“I’m not a fool, Your Grace.” Violet assessed him again. “You were outside, in the grass, with a woman, drinking brandy—to keep warm no doubt. I do hope you won’t catch cold.”
Hart stared at her, his shock palpable. “Miss Devereaux, you are laboring—”
“Leave her be, Hart.”
The voice that rumbled through the open door to Violet’s room didn’t come from Daniel. It came from Ian Mackenzie.
Ian walked into the room, his gaze going not to the two people standing in the middle of it, but to the flame of the candle on the dresser.
“Goodness,” Violet said shakily. “Does no one in this house stay in bed?”
Hart turned to face his brother. Hart was still angry, Violet could see, but when he looked at Ian, his face softened. There was love there, a powerful love that Violet had rarely seen.
“Well?” Hart said, his voice rough with impatience.
Instead of answering Hart, Ian moved his gaze from the candle flame and fixed it on Violet, or at least on Violet’s shoulder. She saw him start to look back at the candle once or twice but then firm his resolve not to turn his head.
“When you are in Paris, you must look after Daniel,” Ian said to Violet.
Violet blinked. “Me look after
“Danny is like me,” Ian said, ignoring her response. “He will go after what he wants and let nothing stand in his way. But I have learned to be careful. Daniel, though, will do anything, even sacrifice himself, to win.”
Ian’s gaze didn’t move from Violet’s shoulder. One of his hands was curled to a fist, the other half clenched. Ian too was fully dressed, but no scent of outdoors came from him. He’d been on his way out, not on his way in.
“You’re not just talking about Daniel’s motorcar race, are you?” Violet asked.
Ian didn’t change expression, but he switched his gaze fully to Violet’s eyes. “Don’t let him.”
Hart broke in. “Ian . . .”
Hart might have been a dust mote for all Ian paid attention to him. “Don’t let him,” he said to Violet.
The intensity of Ian’s gaze was unnerving. Violet wondered how he could exude more power with that look than Hart could with all his harsh commands.
“I won’t,” Violet said to Ian.
“Promise me.”
“Yes, I promise.”
Ian looked at Violet for a few more heartbeats, then he broke the gaze, studied the candle flame for a count of three, then made to leave the room. He turned halfway back when he reached the doorway.
“Hart was not with another woman,” he said to Violet. “He was with Eleanor. They like to meet in unusual places and try unusual things.” A look of amusement, a flicker only, passed through Ian’s eyes. “Beds are more comfortable.”
Hart, the great Duke of Kilmorgan, flushed dark red. “Yes, thank you, Ian.”
Ian shared another amused look with Violet, turned for the door, utterly ignored his brother, and walked out of the room.
Hart watched him go, again with the look of intense affection. “Ian has difficulty
