Opening the door, she jerked in surprise.
The Duke of Ravensthorpe stood there. Max. Here. In Chelsea. How . . .?
Oh, yes. She’d once told him about her camera shop idea. How had he remembered?
Dark blue eyes burned from under the rim of his hat, his mouth set in a firm, determined line. Though his face was gaunt, he was unmistakably a duke, with his frame draped in expensive fabrics and the gold of his watch fob glinting in the daylight. She could hardly breathe due to the need to throw herself at him.
No, no more playing the fool.
Her friend Irene stood next to him. “I hope it’s all right that I let him in. He said he knew you.” Irene leaned in. “Is he really a duke?”
“It’s fine, Irene. Thank you.” Drawing in a deep breath, she said, “Would Your Grace care to come in?”
Max removed his bowler and stepped into her tiny apartment. Irene’s eyes were as big as saucers when Violet whispered, “I’ll tell you later,” and shut the door.
He dominated the small room, a force of nature in her private space. Violet wasn’t certain where to go or what to do. Why was he here?
He held his hat and cane in gloved hands and inspected his surroundings. No doubt he found it lacking, but Violet certainly wouldn’t apologize for where she lived. She loved this place.
Without prompting, she produced another cup and saucer, set it on the table, and poured tea for him. Then she retook her seat and calmly sipped her tea, waiting for him to break the silence.
After clearing his throat, he sat and removed his gloves. “Are you curious as to how I located you?” His voice was rough and cracked, like he hadn’t used it in days.
“I once mentioned that I would rent a small apartment above a camera shop in Chelsea.”
“Yes, and fortunate for me, there are just two camera shops in Chelsea, and this is the only one with apartments atop it.”
She frowned, her brows lowering. “Why is that fortunate?”
“Because I needed to find you.”
“Interested in a lark, were you?”
He winced. “I saw you leave with your father so it’s obvious you overheard us, and I’m sorry I ever said anything as stupid as that. I didn’t mean it.”
“Why? It’s true. That’s all we were to one another.”
“No, that wasn’t all, not for me.”
Bitterness welled up in her chest like a fog, its dismal fingers sinking into her heart to squeeze. “Forgive me if I have a hard time believing that, Max.”
“Violet, I was trying to convince myself there was nothing between us. That I could go on living without you after you’d happily married your Sundridge or Wingfield. But I cannot do it. I am utterly miserable without you.”
Hope fluttered in her stomach, but she beat it back with a ruthlessness that hadn’t existed two weeks ago. “Because you need someone in your bed.”
“Because I need you in my bed. In my life. With me, wherever I go. For however long I have left on this earth.”
Her hands curled into fists, her skin burning with humiliation and anger. The gall of this man. “I see. You found me living here and assumed I would jump at the chance to become your mistress or whatever else you wanted. That I would be content to stay hidden and wait for your scraps. Well, you may return to Mayfair and shove that cane—”
“Wait.” He reached into his coat pocket and produced a square box, which he sat on the tabletop. “I came here to ask you to be my wife.”
The room spun, and Violet’s mouth fell open. Was that . . .? No, it couldn’t be. “But you said . . .”
“I know what I said, but that was before I tried to row myself to death in the Thames.”
She shook her head, confused. “What?”
“Never mind. What’s important is that I do not wish to exist in a world without you calling me ‘Your Grace’ in that breathy way of yours, or running your fingers through my hair. Or taking photographs of me, or talking of philosophy and history and all the other clever things in your head. I cannot do it. I need you.”
“You want to marry me? Marry? Me?”
He sighed in that arrogant way of his, as if he hated repeating himself. The sound was so Ravensthorpe that she nearly grinned. “Yes, Violet. Please, marry me.”
She bit her lip, not quite ready to give in, though her heart was nearly bursting with happiness. “I thought you were too old for me.”
“I only care what you think. Do you think I am too old for you?”
“Of course not. What about my father?”
“I believe he’ll soon be too busy with other matters to worry about us.”
“Whatever does that mean?”
“Your mother came to see me. She plans to begin divorce proceedings. She was merely waiting until you were married off.”
Divorce? Violet stared at the wall, her mind whirling. “Was that why she was so eager to see me settled?”
“Yes.”
She paused, uncertain how to feel about this revelation. Looking back, the fights with Papa and the emotional distance from the family made a bit more sense. Mama clearly hadn’t been happy, not for years, so if she needed to divorce Papa for her well-being then Violet would support the decision.
Yet why had Mama pushed for Violet to make an unhappy match, as well? If anyone knew the risks of marriage, it was her mother.
Mama should have tried to protect her, not sacrifice Violet for her own gain. Instead, her mother had washed her hands of Violet’s future, practically pushing her out the door to any man who’d have her.
And why had Mama shared this information with Max, instead of her daughter?
Suspicion cast a shadow over the moment, and her stomach churned with emotion. “So this,” she said, indicating the square box, “is your way of helping her?”
“No.” Dipping elegantly onto one knee, he took out the ring and held it up in his fingers. “This is my way of keeping you all for myself. I’ll never deserve you, not today. Not tomorrow. Never. You’re beautiful and pure and I am the very Devil. But I love you, Violet Littleton, and I shall do absolutely everything in my power to ensure you never forget it, not for a moment.”
She covered her mouth, her heart skipping in her chest. “You love me?”
“Indeed, in the very worst way.”
She stared at his gold collar stud and voiced her deepest fear. “You won’t hide me away? I’ll be your wife in every sense of the word?”
With one finger, he lifted her chin to meet her gaze. A wrinkle had formed between his brows. “I’d be proud to have you by my side. I need you. Without you, I’m wrecked. You hold all my happiness in your dainty, camera-loving hands.”
“I am not that powerful. After all, even you call me ‘little mouse.’”
He stroked her jaw with the backs of his knuckles. “Violet, do you not remember the fable of the mouse and the lion? It is the mouse who shows great courage and bravery, saving the lion from a slow, painful death.”
Oh, goodness. She hadn’t considered that. Her belly dipped and swooped, as if she might actually swoon. “Are you saying I saved you?”
“Of course, you have, darling girl. You brought color and joy to a man who had lived in gray for so very long.” He leaned in and pressed his forehead to hers. “You are the sunshine to my bleary dark soul.”