Rule's Bride Read Online Free Page A

isn’t a good place to dawdle.”
    The coachman held open the door and waited for each of them to climb into the worn leather interior. Violet settled herself in the seat, adjusted her conservative navy-blue traveling gown and tightened the strings of the matching bonnet beneath her chin, but her thoughts remained on her father.
    In the beginning, he had been concerned that an interest in business might not be wise for a young lady, but soon it became apparent she was far more excited about making money than she was about playing the role of wealthy, pampered young lady.
    Then, six months after Griff had died, Mr. Haskell, head of the Boston branch of the company, had suddenly taken ill and been forced to retire. Aunt Harry had nearly suffered an apoplexy when Violet told her she planned to take over Mr. Haskell’s duties, but Violet assured her that she would keep her role completely secret, and eventually her aunt had bent to Violet’s very strong will.
    Mrs. Cummins’s worried voice drew her attention. “Dear me, what has happened to that address?” Her chubby hands dug frantically through her reticule. “I can’t seem to find the paper it was written on.”
    â€œNumber six Portman Square,” Violet told her, knowing the address by heart. It was printed at the top of Rule’s gold-embossed personal stationery, there on each of the very few letters she had received in the past three years.
    Mrs. Cummins rapped on the roof of the carriage. “Driver, did you hear that?”
    â€œAye, madam. Number six Portman. ’Tis a bit o’ a ride, but I’ll get ye there safe and sound.”
    â€œI hope it doesn’t take too long,” Caroline said with a weary sigh. “I am beyond ready to take off my shoes and put my feet up for a while.” Like Violet, Caroline was also nineteen. The two were alike in other ways, as well. Each was a bit too outspoken and unfashionably wont to do as she pleased, but Violet was better at disguising her nature than Caroline, who didn’t much care what other people thought of her.
    She glanced outside the window, checking the angle of the sun. The afternoon was waning and all of them were tired. Echoing Caroline’s sentiments, Violet could hardly wait to reach their destination.
    Her thoughts returned to the man she had wed and a tendril of anger slipped through her. Rule Dewar had the gall to marry her, then completely abandon her. He had given her father his word, had promised that he would provide for her, and though she had plenty of money and servants enough to staff a large part of Boston, it was hardly what her father had intended.
    And it certainly wasn’t what Violet wanted. She wanted a husband who loved her, a man she could count on. Shewanted a family and children. She had played the fool once for Rule Dewar. Not again.
    A faint, bitter smile lifted her lips. Rule was about to get his comeuppance. He would retain whatever sum her father had left him, but he was about to lose his half interest in Griffin Manufacturing.
    Violet couldn’t wait to see the look on his handsome face when she told him she was there to obtain an annulment.
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    It seemed to take forever, but eventually Violet and her party arrived at Rule’s London residence, a narrow, four-story brick structure with a gabled slate roof. It sat among a row of similar residences, all of them situated around a small park planted with bright spring flowers enclosed by an ornate wrought-iron fence. Clearly, it was a very exclusive neighborhood, befitting Rule’s station as the brother of a duke.
    The thought stirred a trickle of irritation. How ridiculous it was to marry a man for his noble bloodlines. Why, Rule Dewar hadn’t even had the integrity to keep his word!
    Not like Jeffrey, she thought, his handsome image popping into her head. Blond hair and warm brown eyes, a nice, sincere smile. Jeffrey Burnett was twenty-eight, nine