Page 41 of An Orphan for the Broken Duke

“Please,” Rhys said. “After you.”

Violet’s stomach dropped. She should have expected it, because she doubted that Rhys wanted to cause a scene. But it might have been nice if… no, Violet, do not be silly. This is a marriage of convenience, and I doubt Rhys would want to risk his reputation to defend you.

Violet ought to have been able to defend herself! And were the circumstances slightly different, she would have done. But once again, she was reminded of how helpless her situation was, and how impossibly out of her depth she had become in this new world.

If Lord and Lady Fairview’s reception of Violet was cold, it was nothing compared to what awaited her in the dining room.

There were eight lords and ladies attending the supper that evening. They were already seated when Violet and Rhys entered the room, and they all stood to greet them… rather, they all stood to greet Rhys. Each welcomed him with a warm smile, sure to look him in the eyes. However, not a single one extended the same courtesy to Violet.

When she sat down with Rhys at the head of the table, Violet became keenly aware of the way that every single guest avoided looking at her. And the few times that one dared, it was done with disparagement, an upturned nose, and a curling of their lips.

And so began the most uncomfortable supper of Violet’s life.

She said nothing as the entrees were served. She said nothing as the chatter began around her. And she said nothing as the guests spoke around her, happy to speak with Rhys, but never once asking her a question.

What am I doing here?

In truth, she ought to have been glad that they chose to ignore her. At least that way, she could sit in silence and pretend that she was somewhere else. The lords and ladies around her so clearly thought so little of her and that she did not belong. Was it not better to be ignored than to be mocked and made fun of?

Sadly, that was a truth that she was soon to learn the hard way.

It was towards the end of the evening, after the wine had flowed for well over an hour, that the lord across from Violet finally spoke to her. She did not know his name, but he was flushed in the cheeks, his eyes were hollow pits, and he spoke in a way that made it sound as if his voice had not broken when he came of age.

“Your Grace,” he began as he locked his eyes onto her. “You have been rather silent all evening.”

“Oh.” She blinked in surprise. “I… I do not mean to be.”

“Nothing to say?” he asked with an amused chuckle. “I had hoped that you might at least be interesting.” More laughter. “After all, that might explain a few things.”

Beside her, Violet sensed Rhys stiffen.

“Reginald…” The lord’s wife touched him on the arm as if to warn him away from his point.

“Oh, I am merely joking,” the drunken lord chuckled as he had another sip of wine. “We are all friends, no? As we are all undoubtedly curious about this marriage. Your Grace!” He barked at Rhys. “You surprised us all with your wedding announcement.”

Rhys said nothing. Rather, he glared in warning at the lord.

“I mean, a gentlewoman,” the lord continued drunkenly. “Not completely unheard of, but most odd. Especially for a duke!” He looked around the table for support; thankfully, everyone else seemed to accept that this was one conversation better to avoid. “It must be nice, I would expect. Surely, you would have never dreamed…” He blinked and shook his head. “What were you saying earlier, Margaret?” He looked at his wife.

She widened her eyes at him. “Nothing, Reginald. You have had too much wine.”

“Oh yes!” he laughed. “That is right. Something about debts…” He pushed his lips together. “Were you not saying that Her Grace was in horrible debt, paid for by His Grace upon marriage. At least we know what she got out of it. Many things I am sure,” he chuckled.

Violet was mortified.

Oh, how she wanted to say something sharp and cutting. How she yearned to stand up for herself and put the lord in his place. But she hesitated, frozen to the spot, keenly aware of how powerless she was…

“Is that right, Your Grace?” he continued. “Or is it merely rumor which⁠—”

“That is enough!” Rhys barked at the drunken lord.

It was done loudly, enough that the lord started in surprise, as well as having the rest of the table cowering back as if they had each been slapped. The mood in the dining room shifted dramatically as the conversations ceased; held breaths, wide eyes, a sense that something or someone was about to explode.

“You are drunk, Lord Stokesworth, so I am willing to pass off your ill-given comments as a consequence of you not being able to hold your liquor. And be glad that I am.” He leveled a gaze so cold at the drunken lord that Violet shuddered.

“Y—Your Grace,” he stammered. “I did not mean⁠—”

“As for the rest of you,” Rhys growled as he swept his rueful gaze over the table, making sure that each guest saw it. “I am going to say this once and once only. In the future, should anyone question my marriage, be sure to repeat what I tell you all now.” Another glare, letting the silence build. “My marriage is not a source of gossip. It is not a thing that should bring levity or questions. What it is, is a perfectly normal and common arrangement, one done between two people who want nothing more than to spend the rest of their lives together. There were no deals. There were no debts. There was certainly no entrapment. Violet is my wife, a duchess of the ton, and that I care for her should be enough for each of you to treat her with the same respect that you would afford me. Do I make myself clear?” He snarled the last part.