Page 48 of Between a Duke and a Hard Place
He leaned forward, his hands clasped tightly. “Here’s what we will do,” he proposed, a tone of finality in his voice. “Eddington stabbed Nigel, and in his dying moments, Nigel shot Eddington. That’s the story that shall be put about. It is clean and simple and it will see the matter closed. We will record it as such and put this unpleasantness to rest.”
Standing to leave, the magistrate paused at the door, looking back at the couple with an ironic smile. “For two individuals who were quite at odds not so long ago, you seem to have woven a deep bond in an incredibly short time,” he remarked, a slight twinkle in his eye.
After the magistrate’s departure, Max turned to Violet, a hint of uncertainty beneath his composed exterior. “Have we really settled so comfortably into this...married life?” he asked softly, searching her face for any hint of doubt or regret.
Violet’s smile was gentle, and reassuring. “Why would you question that?” she asked, reaching out to touch his arm.
“You must admit, things were rocky to start,” he said.
“So they were. But they are infinitely better now,” she teased.
Max sighed, his gaze earnest. “I need to know that you’re truly happy—that you don’t feel compelled to stay in this because of everything we’ve faced. I don’t ever want you to feel trapped, not by me, not by anyone,” he confessed, his voice laden with a profound sincerity.
Violet moved closer, her presence a comforting warmth. “Max, if anyone tried to take me from this—our life together, the very one I have dreamed of having with you since I was but a girl—I’d fight them with everything I have. And if by some cruel fate, I was taken from you, there would be no opportunity to miss me. I would haunt every corridor of this manor just to stay near you,” she declared with a playful yet passionate intensity.
Her words, spoken with such fervor, washed away any lingering doubts in Max’s heart. They laughed together, a sound rich with relief and newfound joy, and as they embraced, it was clear that the trials they had endured had forged a union of not just convenience but profound love.
As they stood hand in hand, looking out at the serene grounds of Alstead Manor, the weight of the past seemed to lift, leaving behind a future filled with promise and the certainty that together, they could face anything.
Hours later, In the quiet sanctuary of their bedroom at Alstead Manor, Max and Violet lay together in the soft embrace of their bed, the world outside, if not forgotten, then at least ignorable for a short time.
The room was dim, lit only by the gentle glow of a single candle that cast dancing shadows on the walls. They were entwined, skin against skin, the warmth of their bodies mingling as they held each other close.
Max brushed a stray lock of hair from Violet's forehead, his touch tender and filled with reverence. In the silence, he found the words that had been swelling in his heart, needing to be said.
"I love you, Violet, more than I can say. I wish I had the words to tell you just how much you truly mean to me,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "I was so terrified when I thought I might lose you—then to be told that you were already lost. All I could think of was our life together, which was just beginning, and had suddenly been snatched away by the greed and envy of others."
He paused, his eyes searching hers in the dim light, ensuring she understood the depth of his fear and his relief. "Before...before all this unfolded, I was thinking about our future. About the children we might have, the years we'd spend together raising our family, growing old side by side. I can't imagine doing any of that with anyone but you."
Violet's eyes glistened, a soft smile playing on her lips as she listened to him bare his soul. The vulnerability and sincerity in his voice wrapped around her like another embrace, deepening the bond they shared.
Max continued, a wistful note threading through his words. "I know I've spent years denying my feelings. I never thought I’d be the sort to play the lovesick fool, but I was only pretending. I am the worst sort of lovesick fool for you and I wouldn't change a single second of our time together—except for those moments when I feared you were gone."
Violet shifted, drawing closer to press a gentle kiss against his chest, right over his heart. "Max, you have nothing to fear. You are my heart, my life. And yes, even my mangy mongrel of a dog seems to know that we're meant to be together," she said with a light laugh, referring to her loyal dog's inadvertent role in their story.
“I love you, Max,” she said. “I think I always have.”
Max held her closer, if possible, his arms tightening around her. At that moment, any remnants of doubt washed away, leaving behind a certitude that they were exactly where they were meant to be. They lay there, the future stretching out before them—a canvas ready to be painted with the colors of their life together.
As sleep began to claim them, wrapped in each other's arms, the challenges they had faced seemed to recede, overshadowed by the profound love that had weathered and won. Tonight, they slept not as two individuals who had endured much, but as two souls irreversibly intertwined, their whispers of love and promises of tomorrow echoing softly in the quiet night.
Epilogue
Seven months had passed since the turmoil that had once threatened to upend their lives, and now, under the gentle warmth of a late spring afternoon, Violet and Max strolled through the lush grounds of Alstead Manor. Violet, very heavily pregnant, was simply thankful she could still walk as she could no longer see her feet. Her condition had become the subject of much gentle ribbing; her belly so pronounced that the local gossips wondered if she might be carrying twins, or if the child had been conceived somewhat before their swift nuptials. She didn’t care. Let them gossip. She was too happy to mind.
“Do we really need to add another wing to the house, Max?”
“Well, Violet, you are the one who is insisting on presenting me with triplets?—”
She smacked his arm. “Other people can comment on my size but you are supposed to tell me that I am beautiful and radiant and still, despite my current lumbering, a vision of grace!”
He laughed softly, but then leaned into kiss her soundly. Drawing back, he said with perfect sincerity. “You are beautiful and you are radiant. You have, however, never been a vision of grace. Hoydenism, yes, but never grace.”
Violet, nonplussed, simply skewered him with a flat look. It was an annoying assessment, even if it was a truthful one.
As they walked near the house, enjoying the peacefulness of their estate, a cloud of dust on the road caught their attention. A carriage, small and open to the spring air, was making its way up the drive. Violet shielded her eyes with a hand, peering curiously at the approaching figure.
As the carriage drew nearer, her heart began to beat faster, a mixture of hope and disbelief taking hold. The figure in the carriage, so familiar to her, became more clear the closer it drew to them. When there was no longer any mistaking the identity of the occupant, a wave of elation washed over her. It was James, her brother, very much alive and returning from the Continent.
