A carriage was called and Henry pocketed her note. “I will be in touch when I am fully recovered,” he promised.
She smiled at that, and to his delight, her expression turned hopeful. “Get well soon, Henry. And if you start feeling dizzy or nauseous, I want you to send for me immediately.”
He refrained from saying he might use that as an excuse to see her again. Instead he turned on his heels and walked out of St. Agatha’s Hospital and into a welcome burst of sunshine.
Chapter 20
“How is the case progressing?” Henry asked Mr. Steadford a couple of days later. That morning, after issuing orders to his gardener about where to plant the rhododendron bushes and peonies he’d ordered, he’d decided to stop by the barrister for a quick update.
“Well, we’ve questioned the servants who used to be in Tremaine’s employ and they had only favorable things to say about the duchess, while several were very critical of the new duke. My discussions with these people have, I believe, offered a degree of insight that ought to help us win this case.”
Pleased to know there was hope on the horizon, Henry relaxed into his chair. “So what’s the next step then?”
“Well, I have asked a clerk to investigate the claims you’ve made about Tremaine’s past so I can discover exactly the sort of man he is. Speaking of which, I heard about the duel. Mr. Hayes notified me, adding that the case will be temporarily put on hold until Tremaine has fully recovered from the wound he received at your hand. So now I wish to ask you, sir, what the hell were you thinking?”
Henry winced and then he told Steadford about the disparaging terms with which Tremaine had referred to Viola. “He insulted her most grievously and refused to apologize for it.”
Mr. Steadford’s eyes narrowed with interest. “I see.” He reached for his quill and scribbled something on a piece of paper. “How interesting.”
“I’m glad you think so,” Henry told him dryly. He stood and prepared to leave. “How long do you think we have before we hear from Mr. Hayes again?”
“A couple of days, I should think.”
Thanking Mr. Steadford, Henry exited the office and went to collect his carriage. “St. Agatha’s Hospital,” he told his driver. Because he’d suddenly had an idea and it involved not only Viola, but her beloved dog, Rex.
Returning to her office after a lengthy discussion with Gabriella over tea and biscuits, Viola paused in the doorway when she saw Henry there, studying her bookcase. Her heart made a funny little hop, skip and jump.
“I see there are other books here besides medical texts,” he said with a glance in her direction.
She entered the room and came to see what he was looking at. “Gulliver’s Travels. That was my father’s. He used to read it to me when I was a child.”
A glimmer of interest flickered behind his eyes. “And this?”
She couldn’t help but smile as he pulled a box from a shelf and held it so they could both read what was printed on the lid. The New Game of Human Life. “Peter gave me that for my fifteenth birthday when he realized how fond I am of games.” It had been a thoughtful gesture, which only increased the value of the gift.
“We have to play it one day.” Henry lifted the lid and peeked inside. “It looks like it might be fun.”
“Oh. It is. You have to use a teetotum to progress through life from year one to eighty-four.” She returned the game to its designated spot. “It’s a game of luck rather than skill, but I must admit I find it vastly entertaining.”
He turned more fully toward her and smiled. “Speaking of entertaining, I want to propose an excursion.”
“With me?” In spite of every reason she’d given herself to resist him, excitement bubbled in her veins. Scattered around her heart were the remnants of the wall she’d been building since the age of sixteen when Robert had hurt her. Henry had not only scaled it, he’d taken a hammer to it and knocked it down completely.
“Yes.” He reached for her hand, and her insides started to fizz. “As it turns out, Robert’s case against you has been put on hold.”
“I know. Mr. Steadford informed me in a note he sent me this morning.”
“Which allows for a little reprieve,” Henry continued. “As I recall, you wish to visit the seaside. So I was thinking a day trip to Hastings might do some good.” When she opened her mouth, he cut her off quickly by adding, “The beaches are long and wide—perfect for Rex to enjoy a good run—and we can even visit the ruins of Hastings Castle if you like. It’s quite picturesque.”
“I . . .” Viola paused. It was so incredibly tempting. “I really shouldn’t,” she forced herself to say. “I am a widow and you are a bachelor. If anyone finds out that we’ve gone on a day trip together, they’ll assume that we’re lovers.”
His gaze darkened and his fingers tightened around hers, causing the most delightful tremor to rush down her spine. “I wouldn’t mind that.”
“Because you’re a man.” Her words scraped the air in an effort to gain a foothold. “Until a few days ago you were also a rake.”
“Perhaps I ought to become one again.” He stepped in close and her heart started racing. “Is it so terrible to want to escape with you to a place where we can be free from Society’s rules for a while?”
“No. It sounds wonderful actually. I just don’t want to give Hayes more ammunition.”
He inhaled deeply and when he exhaled that breath, she felt it stir the hair at her temple. “You know, all of this could be solved if you simply agree to marry me.”
Viola blinked. “Are you proposing?”
“No.”
Oddly, her heart took a sudden nosedive. Which of course was ridiculous since her brain had yet to decide if marrying Henry was an option she truly wanted to consider. “Oh.” God, she sounded stupid.
He didn’t seem to notice, his eyes warming and his lips tilting until he was looking at her as if she held the key to eternal life. “I have my pride, Viola, so I am not going to ask you until I am certain of what your answer will be.” Unsure of how to respond, she kept quiet, allowing him to add, “You must realize by now that I feel strongly about you, do you not?”
Her cheeks warmed as she dropped her gaze in a moment of pure self-consciousness. Tipping her chin back up with his fingers, he forced her to meet his challenging eyes. He raised an eyebrow and a single word crossed her lips. “Yes.”
“And I like to think the sentiment is reciprocated.” He dipped his head so they were only an inch apart. Just one tiny step and she’d be in his arms.
Her breath hitched and again she answered, “Yes,” though the word now sounded sensual.
His eyes darkened and Viola’s heart pounded against her chest. “God, I want to kiss you right now,” he murmured, his voice so rough it raked her skin with hot little embers. A moment passed—the most torturous moment of Viola’s life. She didn’t care that the door to her office stood open or that anyone who happened to pass would witness the tension that hummed between her and Henry. All she wanted in that moment was his mouth against hers and . . .
He took a step back. “Unfortunately, I cannot do so here without risking an audience.” He glanced over his shoulder at the door. “This is a busy place, and if someone were to find you in my arms like that, you would either have to face scandal or marry me right away. I do not want those to be your only choices, but if you come with me to Hastings . . .”
She bit her lip while trying to recall why she ought to say no.
“Did I mention that I’m making progress on my garden, by the way?”
“What?” Viola stared up at him in confusion. What on earth did this have to do with anything?
“I made a sketch for my gardener to follow. Poor fellow will be busy for the next month at least, replacing existing plants with new ones and putting in graveled walkways. Thanks to my books, I’ve managed to find a way of ensuring that there’re always flowers present during spring and summer.”
“It sounds as though it will
be very pretty once it’s done.”
“I expect so. Now, about this excursion,” he said, tossing her a boyish smile. “I can have a picnic basket prepared.”
“You do realize I haven’t agreed to come with you yet?”
He shrugged. “Semantics.” When she rolled her eyes, he said, “It is just for the day, Viola, and somewhere far from here where no one will recognize either of us. If we leave early enough in the morning, there’s not even a chance of us being seen. But of course, if the idea of being alone with me troubles you, we can ask the Huntleys or the Coventrys to chaperone.”
Viola considered that as an option and then dismissed it again. She was a widow, after all, so would it really be so terrible if people saw them together and thought they were having an affair? Would it really give Hayes the added advantage? Perhaps she feared spending the day with Henry for a different reason entirely—because it made everything between them more serious somehow. It meant she would have to give their relationship some serious thought and decide if marrying him was a viable option for her. If it wasn’t, she’d have to end things between them quickly.
The idea of giving him up, though, and going on without him, twisted her insides and stabbed at her heart. Suddenly everything came into focus with blinding clarity. She loved him. Living without him was no longer possible, so when he eventually asked, she would tell him yes without even blinking.
With this in mind, she smiled at him broadly while a new, more powerful sense of happiness clung to her heart. “There’s no need for that,” she said. “I am happy to spend the day with you alone.”
His eyes brightened and he hesitated for a second, as if on the verge of kissing her after all. But then he said, “Is six o’clock too early for you to be ready?”
“I rise at five most mornings, so it suits me just fine.”
He touched her shoulder with his hand, gave it a gentle squeeze and said, “I look forward to seeing you tomorrow then.” His eyes held hers briefly and then he stepped away, bidding her a good day and leaving her with a flutter in her chest that remained for long moments after.
The time had come for her to reach for more than she’d ever thought possible—for more than she’d thought could be hers after everything that had happened. It was time for her to tell Henry the whole truth about herself and see where that led them. He’d already told her there was nothing she could say to alter the way he felt about her. Which meant it was time for her to be absolutely honest. Only then, when he knew all there was to know about her, could they truly have a chance at the happily-ever-after she’d started to dream of again.
Chapter 21
Joy had burst through Henry’s veins when Viola had agreed to come with him to Hastings. Surprise and pleasure had followed when she’d told him that chaperones weren’t required. Exiting his coach, he went to knock on her door.
It took only moments for it to open and reveal the woman who made his heart beat more wildly than ever before. She smiled at him through the purple light of dawn and bade him good morning.
He returned the greeting while she locked the door. Her hand reached toward him, and he saw she was offering him Rex’s leash. “I think I should get inside the carriage first and then you can help Rex up afterward,” she said.
Henry grabbed the knotted cord, waited for her to embark and then bent to pick Rex up. The dog struggled slightly against his grasp until he spotted Viola, upon which sight he leapt out of Henry’s arms and straight in behind her. Laughing slightly on account of the obvious loyalty, Henry issued instructions to the driver and climbed up into the carriage as well before shutting the door.
They took off with a jolt, causing Rex to look up in surprise. “I take it he’s never ridden in a carriage before?” Henry asked. He’d deliberately taken the seat across from Viola, as was proper, even though he itched to be close enough to touch her.
But, considering the effect she had on him and the promise he’d made himself to stay on his best behavior, he knew more distance was required if he was to stop from being a scoundrel. They were after all in a closed carriage now. Together. Alone. If he kissed her his hands were bound to wander and . . .
She pushed her hood back with her fingers, and although she was cast in the shadows of early morning light, he could see she was looking straight at him, causing his pulse to leap with delight.
“No. This is the first time,” she said, in answer to his question. Placing her hand on Rex’s head, she gave the beast a few loving strokes before leaning back against the squabs. “Did you leave Newton at home by himself?”
“Yes. I’m not sure he would enjoy the sand or the water.” Dropping a glance at Rex’s big head, he added, “I’m also not sure Rex would like him very much.”
She looked at him as if he had bats flying out of his ears. “Rex might be big, but he’s got a lovely heart. He would never hurt Newton if that’s what you’re afraid of.”
Henry considered the dog’s wide jaw and the teeth protruding like stalactites from the roof of a cave. “Newton’s entire body would fit in his mouth without much effort.”
She frowned, but her eyes were dancing. “Perhaps we ought to arrange for the two to meet under more controlled conditions.”
Henry smiled. “I like that idea.” She smiled as well, and he found himself struggling to remain where he was—to not cross to her side of the carriage and kiss her with wild abandon. “I have a confession to make,” he said instead. “I’m glad you decided to come alone even though I suggested a chaperone.”
“So am I,” she whispered, so softly he barely heard her, but her admission was like a balm to his soul and a spark to his desire.
“Really?”
“That surprises you?”
“Well yes. I know you fear inviting gossip and ruining your reputation.”
She was quiet for a while, her body swaying ever so slightly in response to the carriage’s jostling movements. “It occurred to me that spending the day alone with you was too appealing to be ignored, that any potential gossip about us would not damage my reputation more than the gossip about me being a social-climbing schemer already has.”
“I think you’re probably right.”
“We’ll see. Privacy has always mattered to me. I never liked being the center of attention, but after marrying Peter, all of that changed, and not in a good way.” She clasped her hands in her lap. “The ton can be so unbearably vicious.”
“Is that why you stayed away from social events?”
She shrugged one shoulder. “I had other priorities and little desire to meet the people who love to think the worst of me.”
“The Huntleys got through it and so did my brother. If you want to, you can get through it as well.”
“That’s just it,” she said. “I do not think I care to make the effort.”
He wasn’t sure he would either if he were in her shoes, because he could see the ton as she saw them, a group of arrogant judges perched upon pedestals and pointing fingers at those below. “I’m sorry I’m one of them,” he said, wishing for the first time in his life that he was an ordinary man with no titles to inherit and no fortune to his name.
“You’re not.” Her words drifted toward him like mist carried forward on a breeze. “You are entirely different, Henry, which is one of the reasons why I like you as much as I do.”
A powerful need for added closeness overcame him and he could resist no longer. He had to have her beside him, so he shifted sideways and held out his hand. “Come here, Viola.”
Her lips parted and time seemed to slow to a halt until, to Henry’s immense relief, she reached out across the space between them. The moment her fingers closed around his, he held her steady until she sank down beside him, at which point he wound his arm around her shoulders and pulled her snugly against him.
Her hand fell against his thigh and Henry went still. “Viola.” He could scarcely utter a word on account of the pleasure, the need, the desire for more. She must have beli
eved that he disapproved of her touching him so, for she started to pull away. “Don’t move,” he managed to say in what sounded more like a growl.
She froze, paused for a second and then relaxed back into his arms.
Henry took a deep breath and prayed for resilience. “I like your hand there,” he muttered, because the last thing he wanted was to make her feel unsure. “It was just unexpected, that’s all.”
“I was trying to steady myself,” she said.
Her fingers flexed against him as she repositioned her hand, causing flashes of heat to dart up his leg and straight to his groin. Caught between pain and pleasure, Henry closed his eyes and breathed in her scent. Lavender and starch as usual. Fresh and clean and incredibly enticing.
She shifted her weight, pulling slightly away. Henry opened his eyes and saw she was angled toward him, leaning forward, watching him closely. “May I kiss you?” she asked.
All hope of dampening his ardor evaporated in response to that simple question as need, urgent and fierce and full of devil-may-care intentions, assailed every cell in his body. “You don’t ever have to ask for permission to do so, Viola.”
Her gaze dropped to his lips and Henry held himself utterly still. Nothing existed for him in this moment except for Viola. It was as if his entire being hinged on what she did next.
Slowly, as if she’d learned the art of seduction from Aphrodite herself, she closed the distance between them and sighed against his mouth. Restraint abandoned Henry in a heartbeat and he crushed her to him, cradling her head in the palm of his hand while kissing her back. He no longer cared that his body responded the way it ought when she pressed her hand into his thigh or that she gasped when the blatant proof of his fierce desire brushed her wrist moments later.
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