“You do not have to do this.” Her mother dabbed at her eyes.
“I do, and I have made up my mind. I shall see you tomorrow at the ceremony.”
The baroness nodded.
Violet reached up and kissed her mother on the forehead. She got to her feet.
In the corridor, the four sisters had emerged from their room and were standing in a row. Violet stopped before them.
“Your Grace. My sister Primrose, the second oldest out of the five of us.”
Primrose curtsied. She held Violet’s gloves and did not take her eyes off Henry’s face.
“Miss Primrose.”
Violet moved down the line. “You already met my sister who is the third oldest.” Poppy held her bonnet and curtsied lightly. “Good to see you again, Miss Poppy.”
The twins, who looked to be around fifteen, held each other’s hand. “My sisters Daffy and Daisy.”
“Miss Daffy, Miss Daisy.”
The leaving did not take long.
The unknown man closed the front door behind them.
The carriage door closed. Henry sat opposite his bride and her satchel. The satchel was small and brown and had been mended along one seam with thread of a colour that nearly matched the leather.
She had her hands folded in her lap. They were trembling.
The streets of London came up around them. The carriage made the turn into Cavendish Square and stopped at a townhouse of moderate size that had been Henry’s mother’s once and was now empty and staffed and lit.
The door opened.
In the entrance hall, in a row of respectful presentation, stood Mrs Taylor the housekeeper, Mr Williams the butler, two footmen, and Sarah, who had been sent ahead from Iredell two days before to serve as lady’s maid to the new duchess.
Henry stepped down from the carriage and handed Violet down. She took his hand, her fingers thin through the worn gloves.
“Your Grace.” Mrs Taylor stepped outside and curtsied.
“Miss Linton,” he turned slightly toward the housekeeper, “this is Mrs Taylor. She is at your service and will help you settle for the evening.”
“Miss Linton, welcome.” Mrs Taylor curtsied.
Violet smiled weakly. “Mrs Taylor.”
“Your room is prepared, Miss Linton.”
“Thank you, Mrs Taylor.”
“Miss Linton, I shall not stay.” His bride looked at him, her expression one of surprise and relief. “I shall send the carriage in the morning.”
“Good night, Your Grace.”
He turned for the carriage and embarked. He did not look back at the house as the carriage moved off.
Iredell House was the house his great-grandfather had built when his great-grandfather had been told that the Duke of Iredell ought to be seen to live grandly in London. It had thirty-eight rooms. It had been redecorated since. Most of it was kept under dust covers. Henry had a small suite of rooms on the second floor and used them during the Season. Tomorrow, he would bring his wife into this house. Tonight, he stood in the entrance hall while the night porter took his coat and his hat.
“Will Your Grace want supper?”