Violet shook her head, though deep down she couldn’t deny the tiny thread of interest the notion stirred.
Making love with Rule Dewar. She had been fascinated with the man’s incredible good looks and charm from the moment she had met him. If things were different, if there were no strings attached and she and Jeffrey didn’t already have an understanding, she might be tempted to try it.
“I hear congratulations are in order.”
Violet looked up to see a dark-haired, handsome man nearly as tall as Rule striding toward them.
“They are, indeed. It’s good to see you back in Society.” Rule smiled down at her. “Violet, this is Benjamin Wyndam, Earl of Nightingale. He’s the previous owner of what was formerly Hawksworth Munitions and is now Griffin Manufacturing. The man from whom your father purchased the plant.”
“Yes, I remember hearing your name. Lovely to meet you, my lord.” Inwardly, Violet smiled, beginning to get the hang of using the ridiculous British titles.
“You, as well, my lady.” Nightingale smiled at her softly and she noticed a sadness in his eyes that seemed deep and abiding. “I lost my wife two years ago. I hope you and Rule are as happy as Maryann and I once were.”
And clearly he grieved for her still. “I am sorry, my lord. And thank you for your kind wishes.” What else could she say? The earl had obviously loved his wife. If only Rule could—
She broke off the thought. Rule wasn’t the sort to fall in love. Their marriage was no more than a business arrangement. If she wanted a husband who loved her, she would have to marry Jeffrey.
Violet frowned, disliking the way the thought had come out. she didn’t have to marry Jeffrey. She wanted to.
It was simply that he was so far away.
Another man walked up just then. He was perhaps forty, beginning to lose his hair and had eyes that seemed to miss nothing. “So this is your lovely bride. Your marriage seems the only interesting bit of gossip I’ve heard all evening. Your wife is quite a lovely surprise, my lord.”
“Thank you,” Rule said somewhat stiffly. “Violet, this is Burton Stanfield. Over the years we’ve had some business dealings together.”
“That is correct. And a few weeks back I tendered an offer to buy Griffin Manufacturing. Unfortunately, his lordship turned it down.”
A buyer for the company! Exactly what she needed. But Rule had refused the offer. The information nettled, considering how much she wanted to sell. At home, trouble was brewing in the Northern and Southern states, the country fiercely divided over the issue of slavery. Violet had friends on both sides, people she cared about. She didn’t want to be in the business of making the weapons that might be used to kill them.
Still, Rule had done a good job managing Griffin so far. He might have had good reason for turning the man down.
Violet focused on Stanfield. “Perhaps your offer wasn’t high enough. With the tensions growing between the states in America, there is already increased demand for weapons. I should think that would make Griffin worth a good deal of money.”
Burton Stanfield smiled. “A woman with a head for business. How unusual.” He turned to Rule. “I believe you have managed to capture yourself a very interesting female.”
“Her maiden name is Griffin,” Rule explained. “Violet spent a good deal of time with her father at the Boston branch of the business.”
“I am also half owner of Griffin,” she said sweetly, drawing a frown from Rule.
Stanfield studied her with heightened interest. “Is that so? Then perhaps I can win your support for my cause.”
She kept her smile in place. “I’m afraid I would have to discuss the matter with…my husband.”
Stanfield cocked an eyebrow. “Indeed. A promise I shall hold you to, my lady.”
Rule’s hand settled possessively at her waist. “If you will excuse us, there are some other people I would like my wife to meet.”
“Of course.” Stanfield made a polite bow and stepped out of their way. Leaving the man behind, she let Rule guide her rather forcefully toward a quiet area off the main part of the ballroom.
“It is not considered polite to discuss business matters at affairs such as these.”
“Is that so? Or is it merely impolite for a woman to discuss business matters at affairs such as these?”
Rule eyed her darkly. Then a corner of his mouth edged up. “You are not like other women, Violet Dewar. Perhaps that is the reason you intrigue me.”
“Do I?”
His blue eyes darkened. “In ways you are yet too innocent to understand.” He took her arm and laced it with his. “Come. We’ll make a pass round the ballroom. I’ll speak to a few more of the guests and then, if you are ready, we’ll go home.”
Violet breathed a sigh of relief. “I should like that above all things…my lord.”
It was the first time she had used his title and Rule grinned, carving the dimples she remembered into his cheeks.
“My lord?” he repeated as if she had finally accepted him as her master. “That has a very nice ring.”
She bit back a smile and shook her head. “You are a devil, Rule Dewar.” With the devil’s own charm.
And the way her stomach lifted when he looked at her the way he did now, as if she were a particularly delectable sweet, put her on guard.
If she weren’t extremely careful, she might wind up in the devil’s bed.
Rule left Violet in the care of his sisters-in-law and wove his way among the guests. As much as his somewhat tarnished reputation would allow, he wanted to smooth the way for his wife’s admittance into the inner sanctum of upper-class British Society.
As he paused here and there to speak to friends and answer questions about his bride and his unexpected marriage, he began to frown at some of the things he was overhearing. Gossip about the reasons for his hasty wedding, implications that his bride had been less than pure at the time they spoke their vows.
He tried to explain about Howard Griffin’s illness and the arrangement the man had made to secure his daughter’s future, but the more he talked, the more smug smiles and winks he received and the more irritated he became.
It surprised him to feel so protective of Violet when he had never felt that way about a woman before. He hadn’t known his mother, who had died giving birth to him. The only females in his family were his frail old aunt Agatha, whom he adored as the mother he never had, and his sisters-in law, whom he greatly respected.
He told himself his protectiveness came simply because Violet was his wife and not because he was so strongly attracted to her, not because he admired her for having the courage to travel all the way to England to confront him.
He watched her laughing at something Reese said. Reese, who rarely joked and hardly ever smiled until he married Elizabeth.
Rule liked it when Violet smiled. He would like it even more if one of those sweet smiles was intended for him.
He watched her until, from the corner of his eye, he caught sight of her cousin, Caroline. He straightened as he realized the girl was in conversation with his best friend, Lucas Barclay. Good God, Caroline Lockhart was as innocent as Violet, and, he noticed for the very first time, far more beautiful than he had realized.
And Luke was eyeing her like a wolf with a fresh piece of meat.
Rule strode toward them. “I see you’ve met my cousin, Miss Lockhart.”
One of Luke’s dark eyebrows went up. “Your cousin?”
“My