Howard Griffin was beyond persuasive, and the deal he had offered was more than anything Rule could have dreamed. After Griffin’s death, once the marriage was consummated, he would inherit half of Griffin’s fortune and become half owner of Griffin Manufacturing. The other half would belong to Violet, the woman soon to become his wife.
The laws were different in America and his bride’s fortune would remain her own, but together they would be a powerful force in the financial world.
And there was an added benefit. Aside from the money and ownership of an extremely successful company, Rule would be fulfilling his father’s greatest wish. The late Duke of Bransford was convinced that an alliance with the Americans would carry the Dewar family securely into the next century, and Rule had promised to see it done.
Marriage and a business that spanned the Atlantic would certainly be a satisfactory means of making that happen.
His gaze ran over the few rows of seats filled by Griffin’s friends and family, an intimate gathering that would have been a spectacular affair if Violet were older and the wedding not a hurried event that was only a means to an end.
He wondered how many people in attendance knew the circumstances of the wedding and thought that Griff, as Rule was now supposed to call him, had probably spoken to most of them and explained the situation. Rule thought the majority would sympathize with a dying father’s desire to ensure his only child’s future and agree with his decision.
At the top of the steps leading down from the terrace, Griffin extended his arm and Violet rested a white-gloved hand on the sleeve of his satin-lapelled, black broadcloth tailcoat. She was even more petite than he had realized, and earlier he had noticed that her eyes were a pretty leaf-green. There was a sprinkling of freckles on her nose, he had observed as he had proposed, very gallantly, on bended knee in the drawing room in front of her father.
She was little more than a child and part of him rebelled at the notion of making her his wife, even in name only. He fought an urge to turn and run, board the fastest ship he could find back to England. But the die had been cast, the future laid out for him like a juicy piece of meat, and he had been unable to resist.
By the end of the ceremony, he would be on his way to becoming an extremely wealthy man. In the meantime, until the dismal occasion of his father-in-law’s passing, Rule would be employed at a lavish salary as head of the London branch of Griffin Manufacturing and live in high style in the city.
The organ began to play the wedding march, returning his attention to the moment. Walking next to her father, Violet managed a half-hearted smile and started down the aisle to where he stood waiting. Rule reminded himself he wouldn’t truly be a husband for at least several years, wouldn’t have to face that sort of responsibility until he was ready.
Pasting on a smile he hoped looked sincere, he thought of the future he was securing for himself, the fulfillment of the promise he had made his father, and prepared to greet his bride.
Violet kept the smile fixed on her face as she made her way down the aisle. Only close family and a few intimate friends were in attendance. Quite enough for Violet, who just wanted this day to end. On the morrow, Rule would sail for London and her life would return to normal. At least for a while.
She refused to think of the months ahead and the terrible fate awaiting her father. Instead, she focused her attention on the man she would marry. Rule gave her an encouraging smile and her heartbeat quickened, began a steady thrumming inside her chest. Good heavens, he was handsome! She had never seen a man with eyes so blue and fringed with a double row of thick black lashes. She had never seen more beautiful lips, full and pleasingly curved. Winged black brows formed a faultless arch over each of his magnificent eyes, his nose was straight, and his smile flashed an even row of perfect white teeth.
When she reached his side, he took her trembling hand in his larger, warmer one, and his smile widened, carving dimples into his cheeks. Goodness, she had never seen a face assembled with such perfection.
And he was going to be her husband!
The thought made her knees start to tremble. As her father handed her into Rule’s care, she stiffened her spine and told herself she was doing this because her father wished it, but deep down she wasn’t completely sure.
For long minutes she stood there rigidly as the minister performed the marriage ceremony. Rule repeated his vows and she hers, and then it was over and he bent and kissed her cheek.
Violet suppressed a flicker of disappointment. She had never been kissed. She thought she deserved at least that much from the man who was now her husband.
“Well, Mrs. Dewar,” he whispered softly, his warm breath feathering goose bumps across her skin, “how does it feel to be married?”
She looked up at him. “So far I have no idea. What about you?”
Rule laughed, a deep, rich, musical baritone. Of course his laughter would be perfect, just like the rest of him.
“You’re exactly right—I haven’t a clue, either. I don’t feel the slightest bit different.”
“Maybe it takes a while.”
He smiled, seemed to relax. “Perhaps.” She loved his accent. It fit so well with his immaculately tailored clothes, expensive leather shoes and snowy cravat.
“I believe your family has planned a wedding celebration. Perhaps now that the worst is over, we’ll be able to actually eat.”
Violet laughed. She hadn’t expected that. That he would be able to make her laugh. It made him seem less formidable, more approachable. “I’m starving. I was afraid to eat anything earlier. I wasn’t sure I would be able to keep it down.”
He smiled. “Exactly so.” He continued to smile, and she thought, Could this beautiful man actually be my husband? But as he took her hand and placed it on the sleeve of his coat, she knew that it was so.
Weaving their way through a small barrage of wellwishers, they made their way from the garden back inside the house. Rule kept her close at his side and she appreciated his effort to play the role of dutiful husband. As the afternoon progressed, she told herself that everything would work out. That her father’s judgment had never proved wrong before and she should trust that judgment now.
The hours seemed to have no end but finally the guests departed, all except Rule, her father and Aunt Harriet, her mother’s sister and one of Violet’s few close relatives. As she stood next to Rule and the small group who remained, a wave of exhaustion hit her and she swayed on her feet.
“Are you all right?” Rule asked, his hand going to her waist to steady her.
Violet managed to smile. “I’m fine.A little tired, perhaps.”
He glanced at the clock above the marble mantel in the drawing room. “The others have mostly gone and I’m afraid it’s time for me to leave, as well. I have some packing to finish before I head down to the ship.”
Violet felt torn.
She was married, but her husband was leaving. She wasn’t sure when she would see him again.
On the other hand, she wasn’t ready to be a wife and she wasn’t sure how long it would take before she would be.
“We’ll walk you out to your carriage,” her father said, and the group made its way in that direction, ending up outside on the wide front veranda.
“Have a safe voyage,” Violet said, not sure what sort of farewell was appropriate under the circumstances.
Rule bowed over her hand, lightly pressed his lips against the back, and she could feel his warm breath through her glove. “Goodbye, Violet.”
She watched him descend the steps and climb into his carriage, then, as if he had never been there, he was gone.
Her father’s hand settled gently on her shoulder. “He’ll be good to you, dearest. He has given me his word he will see to your every need.”
She