Page 31 of Between a Duke and a Hard Place
Max watched her, his gaze steady, unreadable. Then, ever so smoothly, he said?—
“There is a very simple solution.”
Violet arched a brow. “Oh? Do tell.”
Max’s lips curved slightly—not quite a smirk, not quite a smile.“We must simply consummate the marriage.”
The words hit her like a blow.
Her spine straightened. Her fingers dug into the linen of the tablecloth with such force that the heavy centerpiece in the middle of the table rocked back and forth.
Max appeared utterly unaffected.
“You say that as though it is akin to merely signing a piece of paper,” she said, her tone flat, wary.
Max shrugged. “It is the most practical and expedient solution.”
Violet’s breath caught. She could not have misheard him. Her husband—the man who had spent the entirety of their acquaintance mocking her, arguing with her, driving her to the edge of madness with his insufferable arrogance—was now suggesting, in the most matter-of-fact tone imaginable, that they ought to simply tumble into bed together for the sake of legal security.
And worse… The idea did not horrify her as it ought to have. She swallowed hard, forcing her expression into neutrality.
“And what if I refuse?” she asked, her voice tighter than she would have liked.
Max sighed, leaning back in his chair. “Then we shall have to endure weeks, possibly months, of tedious legal proceedings, wherein your aunt and cousin shall revel in their attempts to have our marriage dissolved, while Lord Eddington lingers in the background, waiting for an opportunity to pounce.” He gestured lazily. “But by all means, if that is preferable?—”
Violet gritted her teeth.
Max smirked. “No response? I must confess that I expected at least a few more colorful insults before you stormed from the room.”
She inhaled slowly. Then, as calmly as she could manage, she pushed back from the table.
“I shall consider it,” she said stiffly.
Max inclined his head. “Of course. Do take your time.”
His voice was infuriatingly pleasant.
Violet bit back the urge to throw something at him and stalked from the room.
The fire in the hearth cast flickering shadows against the walls, its warmth doing little to thaw the cold weight in her chest. Violet had dismissed her maid nearly an hour ago, leaving her alone with her thoughts—a decision she was rapidly regretting.
She paced, hands twisting in the silk of her wrapper. The implications of Max’s words were inescapable. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t known that this moment might come eventually, that the precarious nature of their arrangement would inevitably be tested. But the reality of it was far more daunting than she had anticipated.
It wasn’t the act itself that terrified her. It was what would come after.
For years, she had fought against her feelings for him, burying them beneath layers of sarcasm and pointed barbs, convincing herself that indifference was the safest path. But if she gave in to this—if she let him touch her, kiss her, claim her as his in truth—what would be left of her carefully constructed defenses?
Could she truly risk her heart, knowing full well that he would never truly be hers?
And yet, the alternative was unthinkable.
A life spent looking over her shoulder, waiting for Ethella and Nigel to find another way to tear her world apart. The ever-present shadow of Eddington, lurking, watching, waiting.
She exhaled sharply.
She could survive a broken heart.
She wasn’t sure she could survive the rest.
