Page 10 of The Heiress Gets a Duke
“And what if Papa doesn’t relent?”
August stared down into her sister’s dark eyes, wide now with genuine terror. “If Papa doesn’t help, then I’ll talk to the duke myself. I am certain he can be persuaded to see reason. After all, who would want to marry an unwilling bride?”
It was hardly a reassurance. Violet’s brow crinkled as they both remembered the sight of Camille walking down the aisle. She hadn’t wanted Hereford, but no one had cared.
“I won’t do it, August. I won’t give up Teddy.”
August pulled her sister in for another hug and did her best to soothe her.
“He’s said he loves me.” Violet sobbed.
“Shh... You won’t be forced to marry anyone. I promise.” As she made the vow, that vision of Camille refused to leave. She would go through hell to make certain that did not happen to Violet.
***
Very early the next morning, August made her way to the library, where her father would be drinking coffee and catching up on the news he had missed the day before. London hours had not changed Griswold Crenshaw or his habits. He still awoke at dawn to prepare for the day ahead. The only minor concession he had given to staying up until all hours of the night to imbibe in social events was the addition of an afternoon nap.
A pang of affection made her smile when she saw him. He sat in a large wingback chair with his reading glasses perched on the end of his nose as he flipped through the pages of theTimes. A pot of coffee sat on the spindly tableat his side, and a fire danced merrily in the hearth. Something about the way the morning light splashed warm color over the otherwise darkened room reminded her of the times she would invade his morning routine as a child. He never spoke harshly to her. He would simply smile and ask her how she thought the market would perform that day.
“Good morning, Papa.” She walked over and dutifully gave him a kiss on his clean-shaven cheek before taking the chair opposite the table. He had never approved of facial hair on men, so his well-groomed mustache was his compromise to the fashion of his generation.
“Morning, darling.” He gave her the charming smile that had gained him many business deals and set his newspaper aside to pour her a cup of coffee. “How do you feel about the market today?”
She smiled at his continued loyalty to their routine. “New York will be fine. In recovery and getting stronger every day.” Stirring in the cream, she grimaced when she realized the tray did not contain sugar. Her father never took his coffee sweet, so it hadn’t been included. She had a weakness for sweets.
Taking up his paper, he held it in front of him so that she was treated to a view of an article detailing the declining market for pigs in Nottingham.
“Lord save us from another Jay Cooke and Company fiasco shutting down the exchange again,” he said.
“I do believe we all learned a valuable lesson about the dangers of speculation.”
He gave a mirthless chuckle of agreement and grumbled something unintelligible into the newspaper.
Staring at his hands—the very hands that had held hers many times as they danced at various functions and only weeks ago had patted her shoulder to congratulate her when the investment in a factory she had recommended had paid a tidy dividend—she found herself suddenly very nervous. To cover her anxiety, she took a sip of the bitter coffee, letting it roll around her tongue before swallowing.
What if Mother turned out to be right and Papa was in complete agreement with her? What then? It would be ararity, but not completely unheard-of. Hadn’t he sided with their mother when Maxwell had wanted to move into his brownstone? They had both decided that bachelors should live at home until they were married. Not that their displeasure had stopped him. He had moved out and life had gone on. Surely, this could be resolved as simply. Only this was marriage and so much more permanent.
“Papa?” Her stomach churned, so she set the cup and its saucer on the table, afraid the smell would make her more nauseated. “I have come to discuss something very important with you.”
He glanced at her from behind the paper and must have noted the seriousness of her expression, because he opted to set it aside again. Before his frown could become a question, she said, “Mother spoke with us last night. She mentioned the idea that Violet might marry the Duke of Rothschild.”
To her horror, he smiled and took up his cup and saucer as if the idea were something to be mulled over and entertained with intelligent conversation. “I sometimes believe that I don’t give Millie the credit she deserves. She’s hopeless when it comes to business, but she has proven very shrewd in other areas.”
A chill started in her face and made its way down her entire body. “Are you saying that you agree with Mother? That Violet should wed this man we know nothing about?”
“It’s a fine idea, August, and he isn’t some stranger. True, we do not know him personally, but he’s a duke.” He shrugged as if the title alone should be enough. When that didn’t get a response from her, he added, “He and his family are well-known. Several gentlemen I know, including Hereford, have vouched for him.”
“Do you mean men you have only met since we arrived?”
She could hardly keep her voice from trembling with her fury.
His infuriating smile stayed in place as he inclined his head. “I concede your point. However, I have known Hereford for nearly a year, and most of them are his friends and acquaintances. Rothschild counts the Prince of Walesamong his friends. What more of a recommendation do you need? I have it on good authority that the Prince of Wales himself will approve the match.”
“How on earth could you know that? How long have you been planning this?”
“Only recently, darling. The prince speaks highly of Americans, as you know. It stands to reason that he will welcome more of our girls. He approved Camille, didn’t he?”
August could hardly believe what she was hearing. While it was true that the Prince of Wales had sent Camille and Hereford a wedding gift, and his love of Americans had been written up in various papers, she could not fathom that extending to Violet. Not because her sister didn’t deserve his esteem, but because it all seemed so unbelievable.
