“This was never a game for me.”
“Either you trust me or you don’t.” He shook his head. “I have tried to prove myself to you. To prove that I have changed. That I’m not the same man you married. That I can be trusted.”
“I said I trusted you,” she said sharply.
“Then it’s your turn to prove something.”
Their gazes locked for an endless moment.
“You’re not going to answer me are you?” she said.
“I don’t see the need to.”
“And on that we disagree.” She drew a deep breath. “Very well. We can continue this discussion later. I have a reading to attend.”
“You’re running away.” He stared at her. Why hadn’t he realized this before now? “Again.”
“Utter nonsense. I’m not running away.” She raised her chin. “I’m going to a reading.”
“You ran away after we married. You ran away after we kissed.”
“You kissed?” Welles frowned.
“And now you’re doing it again.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” she said dismissively. “I am expected to attend this morning’s reading and I intend to do exactly that.”
“I can’t guarantee I’ll be here when you get back,” he said without thinking, then realized he meant every word.
“Goodness, James, don’t be so melodramatic.” She grabbed her hat and gloves. “I shall see you in a few hours.”
“I’m serious, Violet.” He’d had quite enough of trying to prove himself to her. What more could he possibly do?
“Then go!” she snapped, turned on her heel and was out the door before anyone could protest.
Was this it, then?
Welles cleared his throat. James had almost forgotten he was there. He’d always liked Welles—he considered him a friend. Until now.
“What are you really doing here, Welles?” Silly question. It was obvious he and Violet were involved in some manner.
“I thought it was important that Violet know about this,” Welles said in a superior manner. Far too superior for a man trying to steal an old friend’s wife.
“In the event I seduced her?”
Welles’s expression tightened. “She may trust you, but I do not.”
“She told you about the will?”
Welles hesitated then nodded. “In London, yes.”
“So you asked a few questions and greased a few palms in the hopes of finding something to work to your benefit.”
“It wasn’t quite as easy as that, but yes, in a manner of speaking. And my intention was only to protect Violet.” His tone was firm. “I intend to marry her.”
“She’s already married.” James’s jaw tightened.
“For the moment.” Welles paused. “She’ll never be able to truly trust you, you know. Not after this.”
“I don’t believe that.” James clenched his fists by his side, but it was impossible to ignore the truth of Welles’s charge.
“And I believe she just proved it.” Welles’s gaze locked with his. “Which means neither of you will ever be happy. Do you want that for her?”
“I can make her happy.”
“Can you?” Welles shook his head. “You’ve already taken six years of her life. Does she deserve to waste the rest of it, too? She believes she owes you some sort of debt because you enabled her to see the world. I can’t believe you want her to stay with you out of gratitude.”
James’s stomach clenched.
“The kindest thing you can do for her is to let her go. You said you wouldn’t be here when she came back. I suggest you live up to your word.”
“I love her.”
“Then save her from a life of doubt and misgiving. Release her from years of wondering whether she can trust the one man she should trust. She doesn’t deserve that.” His tone softened slightly. “Neither do you.” He hesitated then nodded. “Good day, Ellsworth.” With that he took his leave.
For a long moment, James stared after him. How had everything gone so horribly wrong with Violet? Less than an hour ago, the future—their future—looked bright. Perhaps if James had simply answered her question...
No, either she trusted him or she didn’t. And if she didn’t trust him now, she never would. And without trust, was even love enough?
He’d told her he wished to be her hero. Maybe letting her go was the way to be that hero. Certainly he’d lose everything, but all that mattered was losing her. His heart twisted in his chest. Even if she was never really his.
Welles had followed her across a continent. He’d take care of her. Regardless, she had the funds Uncle Richard had given her. She would be fine financially.
He grabbed his clothes from the wardrobe and dresser and threw them into his portmanteau. He’d return to England and figure out what he was going to do with the rest of his life. That too scarcely mattered.
Even if it had taken him a long time to accept it and even longer to admit it, deep in his heart he had always known what Uncle Richard knew. He and Violet belonged together.
Pity they never would be.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
RUNNING AWAY? What an absurd charge.
Violet walked briskly down the street leading from the hotel. She’d dismissed the thought of hailing a cab to take her to the ruins of Hadrian’s Library. It was no more than a thirty-minute walk and walking was the best way to ease her annoyance and clear the jumbled thoughts in her head.
Why, she’d never run away from anything in her life.
Except James.
Nonsense. Her step slowed. The idea had never so much as entered her mind before but James might possibly have a point. Wasn’t she even now trying to walk off the dreadful sense of fear that had gripped her the moment Duncan told her about the will? Hadn’t the horrible ache inside her insisted she flee? Even so, she was not the one in the wrong here.
Was she?
She approached the remains of the ancient library where chairs had been arranged in front of the columns still standing for today’s reading. Violet greeted some of the society members already here, although her mind was anywhere but on exchanging pleasantries. Mr. Tibbets of the Berkshire Tibbets and distantly connected to an extinct dukedom—which he bemoaned and yet insisted on mentioning every time they met—always gave the first reading. Violet had no idea why—he wasn’t particularly good at it.
She took a seat in the back and tried to focus on the reading—one of the cantos of Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage—although if asked she would have been hard-pressed to repeat even a single word of whatever was just recited.
Why wouldn’t James just answer her question? Unless of course he had known about the clause before he’d slept with her. Maybe the question wasn’t so much if she trusted him, but if she trusted herself. Last night had been everything she’d ever dreamed of. Everything she longed for. She’d confessed her feelings to James and he’d said he loved her, as well. There hadn’t been a doubt in her mind last night. Or this morning.
Why on earth should she doubt him now?
Good God! She sat up straighter in her chair. James was right. Either she trusted him or she didn’t. Didn’t she know him well enough by now to know he wouldn’t take advantage of her in order to claim his inheritance? If she didn’t believe that, they had nothing. Everything inside her told her this was a man she could trust. And if indeed she did trust him, she didn’t need to know if he knew about the clause in the will. It simply wasn’t important. The man loved her and she loved him and in the end, that was all that really mattered.
“Are you all right?” Duncan sat down beside her.
“What are you doing here?” she said in a low voice.
“Why does everyone keep asking me that?”
“Because your presence here is unexpected.” She sighed. “And unwanted.
”
“I came to help you.” Indignation sounded in his voice. “At no little expense I might add.”
“I understand that and I do appreciate it, but I don’t need your help.” She hesitated, but it had to be said. “Nor do I welcome it.”
A lady in the row in front of her turned and cast Violet a chastising look. Violet smiled weakly in apology.
“Come on,” she said to Duncan, stood and picked her way through the sparse grass and pebbles to the street. It really was pointless to try to listen to poetry when what she really needed to do was find James. And apologize. And perhaps grovel a bit. Good Lord, what a mess she’d made of this.
“You’ll never be able to trust him,” Duncan said, moving into place beside her. “But you can always trust me.”
“You have no idea how much that means to me,” she said absently. Surely James didn’t mean what he said about not being there when she returned. It was the sort of thing one said to make a point—no one ever took it literally. It was like I should smack you for that, or I refuse to speak to you ever again or—
I never want to see you again.
Bloody hell. She picked up her pace.
“Violet!” Duncan’s hard tone jerked her attention. “I’m trying to talk to you.”
“And I am listening, but I do need to get back to the hotel. There are matters I need to set right.” She glanced at him, but didn’t slow down. “It’s rather difficult to go from being the victim to being the one in the wrong.”
“I can’t believe you’ve done anything wrong.”
“Perhaps you don’t know me as well as you think.”
“I do know you, Violet. Far better than he does. And you know me, as well. You just said you trust me—”
“Not exactly,” she muttered. Good Lord, did men only hear what they wished to hear?
“I love you, Violet. I can make you happy.”
Apparently, they did. She stopped and turned to him. “I thought I was very clear in London but perhaps not.” Under other circumstances, this wouldn’t be easy and she would try to be as gentle as possible. But right now, she needed to find her husband—the one man in the world who thought stupid comments like I never want to see you again were irrevocable edicts. And right now, Duncan was in her way. “You will always have a special place in my heart, but I’m afraid trust alone is not enough.”
“But I love you.”
“Yes, you said that. I am sorry if this is unpleasant to hear, but I don’t love you.” Violet drew a deep breath. “I do apologize, but I love my husband. And I trust him.”
“In London, you said you didn’t love him.”
“London was a lifetime ago.” She placed her hand on his arm. “You wouldn’t have been happy with me and deep inside you know that. You deserve someone who wants to make you as happy as you want to make her.”
“Violet—”
“Please, Duncan, I need to catch my husband before he does something stupid.” She started off, then realized Duncan wasn’t beside her. She swiveled back. “Are you coming?”
“It might be best if I don’t accompany you. I said some things to Ellsworth...” He grimaced. “I might have encouraged him to leave. In your best interest, of course.”
“Lord save me from stupid men who want to help,” she snapped and started toward the hotel. “No wonder Shakespeare said the first thing we do is kill all the men.”
“I believe the quote is kill all the lawyers,” he called after her.
“Close enough!”
“WE WERE JUST coming to find you.” Cleo and Marcus met her outside the door to her suite.
“Dare I ask why?” She forced a casual note to her voice. Judging by the looks on their faces, they were not looking for her to join them on a tour of the sights of Athens. A heavy weight settled in her stomach. She unlocked the door, pushed it open and stepped into the suite, Cleo and Marcus right behind her. The parlor looked no different than it had when she left, but she knew without question if she looked in the wardrobe his clothes would be missing. “He’s gone, isn’t he?”
“I’m afraid so.” Marcus winced. “He left me a note. Slipped it under the door. We only found it a few minutes ago.”
“Well?” She braced herself. “What did it say?”
“It said you didn’t trust him.” He paused. “And you probably never would. So he decided it would be best for you if he released you from any obligation to him. As it’s fairly certain you will be apart for more than the thirteen days you have allocated for this year, he will lose everything. You will no longer have to follow the dictates of the will. You will be free to live your own life.”
“The note said it was the best thing he could do for you.” A distinct note of sympathy sounded in Cleo’s voice. “It was quite noble of him.”
“The man is trying to be my hero. He’s giving up everything to ensure my happiness. It’s not the least bit noble—it’s stupid.” She twisted her hands together. “And pointless. How can I be happy knowing he gave up everything for me? Knowing he’ll forfeit not only the money, but the house in London where Richard made a home for them. And the manor in the country that’s been part of his family for generations, the place that’s filled with memories of his parents.” Her throat ached and her voice rose. “How can I be happy without him?”
Cleo’s eyes widened. “You do love him.”
“Yes!” The word was barely more than a cry. “I do. I always have.”
“Dare I ask what happened?” Caution edged Marcus’s voice.
Violet forced a note of calm to her voice. “I asked James if he knew about the clause in the will that would allow us to escape the stipulations.”
“How did you know about that?” Marcus asked.
“It’s not important at the moment.” Violet waved off the question. “James refused to answer. He said either I trusted him or I didn’t.” She shook her head. “He was right.”
“I see.” Marcus considered her thoughtfully. “Do you still want to know the answer?”
“No.” She raised her chin. “There’s no need. I trust him completely.”
Marcus smiled. “Excellent answer, Lady Ellsworth. Now, what do you intend to do about Lord Ellsworth?”
“You have to do something, you know,” Cleo added. “You can’t simply mope.”
“I have no intention of moping.” Violet waved away the comment. “Certainly I deserve a moment of despondency, but now action is called for. I’ve barely been away an hour—he can’t have gone far.”
“I checked with the front desk. His lordship booked passage on the ferry to Brindisi. It was scheduled to leave a quarter of an hour ago.” Cleo winced. “And there isn’t another ferry until tomorrow. If he takes a ship from Brindisi we’ll never catch up to him.”
Violet scoffed. “He won’t take a ship.” She shot Marcus a pointed look. “Will he?”
“Probably not. He has a slight problem with ships.” Marcus grimaced. “And on occasion trains.”
“I suspected as much.” She thought for a moment. “You’re right. Even if he goes back the way we came we’ll never catch him. How long—”
“Retracing our steps will take a minimum of a week to return to London,” Cleo said. “And that only if there are no delays or missed connections. You and I both know that’s impossible. As he’s not an experienced traveler, even if all goes well, I would be surprised if he made it to London in less than—” she shook her head in regret “—fourteen days.”
“Marcus.” Violet pinned him with a direct look. “Mrs. Higginbotham is the sole authority on whether we have violated the terms of the will, is she not?”
He nodded.
“Then we need to get back to London before James does.”
“I don’t understand.” Marcus frowned.
Cleo stared at her for a moment then grinned.
“Violet has a plan.”
“Well, the beginnings of one at least.” She drew a deep breath. “But we can’t do anything until we return to London and it’s imperative we arrive before James.”
Marcus’s brow furrowed. “Why?”
“To speak to Mrs. Higginbotham, of course.”
He shook his head. “I don’t understand.”
“You don’t have to, dear.” Cleo patted his arm, then turned to Violet. “If we take a ship directly from Athens...” She smiled. “I shall look into it at once.”
“Good.” Violet nodded. “For six years, I’ve been angry with James for not following me, for not fighting for me. For us.” Determination rushed through her. “Now it appears it’s my turn to fight for him. And I intend to do just that.
“Sometimes.” She squared her shoulders. “Even the most stalwart of heroes needs a little help.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Fifteen days later
“GOOD HEAVENS, MY LORD.” Andrews stared as if he’d seen a ghost. “Where have you been?”
“Good to see you too, Andrews,” James said wryly and dropped his portmanteau in the entry. Bloody hell, it was good to be home. There were moments when he didn’t think he’d make it. Of course, it wouldn’t be home for much longer. His heart twisted. Still, it couldn’t be helped and it did no good to dwell on his loss.
“My apologies, my lord.” Andrews’s brow furrowed. “It’s simply that we have been concerned. Nor did we expect you tonight.”
“And yet, here I am,” James said with a weary sigh. “As to where I’ve been, I started my journey home in Greece where I boarded a ferry to Brindisi, Italy, and at once realized I had made yet another terrible decision. Unfortunately, it was too late and I was forced to complete the voyage. Upon my arrival in Italy, I immediately took the ferry back to Greece where, again, I was too late.”
Andrews was apparently too stunned to speak.
“So I once more boarded that vile, creaking, deathtrap on water and returned to Italy. Do you have any idea how many people in Italy do not speak English?”
The Lady Travelers Guide to Happily Ever After Page 32
