by Gay, Gloria
She walked the few paces between them and looked into his eyes.
She thrilled at the kiss in his eyes. His arms encircled her and his lips fell hungrily on hers.
The feel of Hawk's arms around her gave her such a feeling of bliss as to make her dreamy, floating. But as his lips seared hers she could tell he was angry, as though he sensed she was saying good-bye with her kiss.
As he kissed her throat and hair her senses reeled, so she pushed him away, for she could not weaken in her resolve.
As they went further up the hill toward the ruins of a small chapel she realized the groups of picnickers were not anymore within sight. Hawk led her into the main altar room that was remarkably secluded by shrubbery.
When Violet realized this and turned to return the way they had come the duke grabbed her wrist. She looked at her hand and then up into his eyes as he put his arm on her back and meshed her body with his in a tight embrace.
She was stunned as she always was when too near him, for she knew the danger that lay in his embrace. Up until now she had been certain that so long as she kept him at arm's length and did not look too closely into his remarkable eyes she was safe. But now that he had banished all space between them and she found herself breathlessly pressed against his chest a delicious shiver of surrender shot through her so that she felt almost without a will. She knew she was in dire peril of giving in to an explosion of sensations that were all over her like sensual tendrils on naked skin.
Hawk sat her on the soft grass and like a sleepwalker she complied. He then unlaced her bodice, exposing her porcelain breasts. The soft warm breeze skipped over her skin as his hands cupped both her breasts.
She felt his hands on her shoot down and up like a sliver of lightening. They were both lying on the ground and the scent of the grass, with the bracken and pine needles forming a bed while the warm sun's rays, bore down on them through the roofless ruins of the church amid the loud twitter of the birds that had been surprised by their entrance.
Hawk's mouth roved over her breasts so that Violet felt she had yearned without voicing it a repeat of their last encounter. She sighed breathlessly as he kissed one breast and then the other. He raised the skirt of her dress and separated her legs. Violet gasped as his hand seared her skin.
"I love you," he said, and kissed her. She returned his kiss, losing herself in him.
Then she remembered her own words: men chased after a challenge only until they conquered it.
She was being conquered at this moment.
Violet sat up and then she quickly stood up, pushing Hawk aside as she re-laced her bodice with trembling hands. She brushed the leaves and bracken from her skirt in silence as Hawk looked at her, a stunned look in his eyes at her rejection.
She looked straight into his eyes and said in a low voice, "I have come to my senses, your grace, and for the second time, which is a sad reminder of the way of the flesh. It will never happen again, you have my word," she walked away from him and headed down the hill toward the groups of people, leaving him to think whatever he wanted to think.
She would not be trapped into her mother's kind of life, not by the duke, not by anyone.
And least of all by her senses.
"Miss Durbin, do slow down," said the duke, catching up to her. "If you don’t want our actions to be suspected by anyone your conduct at this moment is making it easy for them to do so. You appear to be fleeing from me."
Violet slowed down and the duke caught up to her.
"So, Miss Durbin is again ruled by her head," he said as they walked back side by side. Then he added with his enigmatic smile, "But for how long?"
"I will not do anything that discredits my father's name."
"Very commendable, but do consider, for some things that may seem in some way may not really be so. It is an accepted fact of society that being the mistress of a duke is just as good as being the wife of a baronet."
"Our opinions are opposite then, for I would rather be the wife of the vicar's assistant than mistress of the king."
"You have an unyielding mind."
"I am very comfortable with my mind, your grace, are you comfortable with yours?"
"I don't believe I have ever asked myself that question, Miss Durbin, now that I think about it. But you have?"
"Yes. Introspection is something I have indulged in from a very early age. Mama gave me an education, for Calvin and I were all she lived for. I am very grateful to her for that, although at one time I only saw it as the glass through which I was able to see my own tragic situation."
She glanced up at him and said quickly. "Please disregard my words, your grace; I am not often so candid."
"Surely there is nothing to regret in honesty," responded the duke with a shrug.
"I’m afraid my mind ran away with me and I slipped to a painful past. Let us talk of more cheerful matters. Certainly the Lord has given me many blessings that ease in my mind the memories of my unfortunate past."
"On the contrary, Miss Durbin, I'm glad that you felt comfortable enough in my company to be able to confide. I am extremely grateful for the trust such disclosures reveal."
Hawk also felt extremely uncomfortable by the revelation. It became to him the mirror through which he saw his own motives and it wasn't a pretty sight. Yet no matter how he turned the matter in his mind, marriage to Violet Durbin was completely out of the question.
He had always felt that his own father had dishonored the family name. He would not do it himself. He may have strayed from the righteous path with his many faults but there was one thing he would never do and that was to marry the daughter of a strumpet. And one who had been one herself, however briefly.
Unaware of the duke's tortured thoughts, Violet lost herself in her own thoughts as they walked back in silence.
She agreed with his assessment that only trust would have allowed her to speak thus. And yet, why should she trust this man? It was a mistake to trust him. He was a mirage, insubstantial, for he may seem the trustworthy man of her dreams but he meant to eventually, or so he seemed to believe, turn her into his mistress. Such a man could not be real to her for she could never consider him thus.
As Violet and the duke reached groups of people Violet heard Galena and Lady Bea calling out for her.
"Your grace," she said to the duke, bowing her head slightly and with a curtsey she turned to leave. The duke nodded and parted ways with her.
As Violet joined Galena and Lady Bea, she felt an immense sadness envelope her heart. Hawkinston could offer her only that which she could not accept. And that was the end of it.
But she had fallen in love with him and because of this she would have to stay clear of him for she could not again trust her heart. Nor could she trust him, for hadn't he led her into the ruins with the assurance that they were within sight of the others, only to again place her in a situation that he quickly maneuvered into an intimate one?
This had been a close call and she had had to summon a strength she did not know she possessed in order to repel him and for the second time in two days. She could not be assured that she would be successful if she found herself in the same situation again.
But she did not fear dancing with him. And besides, she had already agreed to a few dances. She would be in no danger tonight in a ballroom with dozens of couples swirling around them. The only danger in that was that the more time she spent with Hawk, the more drawn she was to him. The more she yearned to be in his arms, the more she had to force herself away from thoughts of him that could weaken her resolve.
But this was the last night of their sojourn. Tomorrow they would return to London and these few days that had been the happiest of her life would have to be pressed between the pages of her past. She could not dwell too much on them for she would go mad with yearning.
She would stay clear of him once she was back in London. But for now she would enjoy the ball and her last night at the castle. The last time she would be in his arms.
&
nbsp; CHAPTER 17
Never had Violet dressed with more care for a ball. It felt as if it were her last real night on earth. How would she live without Hawk? How could she breathe each minute of the day knowing that somewhere he was breathing too? That she had only to write him a letter and he would come to her side at once?
Sadness enveloped her. Hawk would come to her side at once, but with the same offer.
Jewels, silks, satins. The awful past that was never too far slithered back toward her. She remembered Alex Shackel telling her about all the things Violet would have the day he discarded Violet’s mother and forced Violet to be his mistress. She had felt as if a serpent had coiled toward her. She recalled the fear and revulsion that had overwhelmed her back then, and how she had thrown up on the rug in front of Shackel.
The Duke of Hawkinston was not evil as Shackel had been. But he was similar to Shackel in one important way: he wanted her only as his mistress.
So she would have to say good-bye with her heart, as well as with her mind.
But she would say good-bye after the ball.
Violet determined to turn her attention to Jared as her father insisted. Jared was honest in his feelings toward her. She should comply with her father's wishes and pay more attention to Jared's suit rather than spend time with Hawkinston, a man who had such a low opinion of her and an even lower one of her mother.
* * *
"My dear, you will not mind if I don’t attend the ball?" asked Sadie, "I am still not well enough for it."
"Would you prefer if I remained here as well and not attend the ball, either, Mama?"
"No—no! I would not in the least! Your father and I feel this ball is important for you, and that is why I made the effort to come, even though I have not had a good day since we left London. Although my cold is of the lingering kind, it is hardly dangerous. This ball is a big step in your acceptance by society and I am anxious that you complete your sojourn here. Lady Bea will be at the ball with you and keep you company. In fact, she's looking forward to it. I haven't seen a new ball gown on her in ages. She came by and took a turn about the room in her ball gown for me."
"Is Bea in her room now?"
"Yes, you might persuade her to let you see her in the gown or you will have to wait until tonight."
Violet ran to the next room and found Lady Bea busy choosing rose pins from a large tray. Her maid was helping to sort them out.
"What think you of this ball gown, dearest?" asked Bea, a radiant smile on her long kind face.
"It's lovely Bea. It is made of the smoothest silk. The velvet rutching is superb. You look beautiful."
"You think so, dear, even at my age?" asked Bea as she took a turn around the room.
"Yes, I do," responded Violet. She was very fond of Lady Bea and saw her through the affection she had for her.
"Do you think three patches may be too much?"
"I would wear only one, Bea, the one by the mouth," answered Violet, "I think three is a bit much."
"But I hate to part with this half-moon, my sweet. Is it not appropriate for the cheek?" she asked.
"I would only wear the one," said Violet. "However, Bea, you must do as you see fit. I can only give my opinion."
"I believe I will wear all three, dear," said Bea, "Mrs. Gill would feel bad if I didn't wear them. She made them especially for me, you know."
Violet turned away to hide a smile. It was always thus, Bea would ask Violet's or Sadie's opinion and then end up doing exactly as she pleased. The result of this was that she appeared in public in outdated gowns. However, everyone was so used to it she passed unnoticed. Bea, among the chaperones by the wall and living in a dream world of her own nevertheless had a better time than many of the young girls who worked themselves up into a lather over some sought after beau or because they were not asked enough to dance.
Would she be like Bea in her old age, wondered Violet, for it could be that like Bea, she might never get married. Well, she could think of a worse life than Bea's. She had never seen her frown or mope. Bea was always in a fine mood and enjoyed nature and everyday life more than many people she knew.
"I saw that man, dear, lurking about," said Bea, surprising Violet, for she thought that Bea was busy helping Jenny put the rose pins on her hair and thinking of nothing else at the moment.
"I would be careful about him, dear. He is not to be trusted," she added, looking fearfully at Violet.
"Who, Bea?" asked Violet, alarmed.
When Bea did not answer, even when prodded, Violet turned to Jenny. Jenny shook her head slightly, indicating she didn't know who Bea meant.
"I'm afraid to say who, dear for he can be evil to me, too," said Bea, closing her eyes momentarily so that Violet was now very concerned. Had someone threatened Aunt Bea?
"But you can tell me, Bea," Violet prodded, "I won't tell."
"No. The walls have ears, my sweet. Don't ask anymore. Promise you will not."
"I will not, Bea, but you must promise also that if something or someone disturbs you, you must come to me at once."
"I will, dear," Lady Bea assured, her, making the cross with her fingers over her heart, as a child would. "But don't ask me anything now. He might be listening."
"I won't ask you anything, Bea. Mama and Papa are not attending the ball, so it will be you alone who will be my companion."
"And a fine job of it I will do, as always," said Bea, but added fearfully, "Just stay away from that man and you will be fine."
"How can I know which man to stay away from if you will not tell me who it is, Bea?"
"You will know by the fearful feeling he will make you feel. I cannot utter his name, for it might be dangerous to do so."
"All right," said Violet, for she knew that the kindly Bea, who was seldom stirred by anything, seemed to be upset at the thought of 'the man.' Could she mean Souten?
Violet decided not to pursue the matter further. She knew that sometimes Bea got something in her head and would not let go of it for some time. Then she would drop it as if it had never existed.
"Which ball gown will you wear, my sweet?" Asked Bea, turning away from the mirror.
"My new silver blue silk with the lace overskirt, Bea, the one you exclaimed about when I went to have my fitting at Madame Chernier's."
"Yes, a vision of a ball gown it is, my sweet. You will be the prettiest girl at the ball. No one can hold a candle to you even should you wear sackcloth, though. Do you not believe so, Jenny?"
"Miss Durbin will be the most beautiful girl at the ball, as usual," agreed Jenny, "and make all the other girls green with envy."
"See, Violet, Jenny and I both agree on that."
"Thank you, Bea," said Violet and asked the lady if she would partake of a cup of tea with her.
"Will you not remove your gown before we sit to our tea, dear?" Asked Violet, for Bea was attempting to sit on a small chair with the massive gown.
"I will not have occasion to wear this gown for some time, my dear, so I do want to enjoy it as much as I can."
"Certainly, Bea," agreed Violet, and added, "but let me then put this kerchief on your lap so that it will not be stained, for the gown so becomes you."
Violet felt like she was having tea with Queen Elizabeth, as Bea's hair had been arranged by Jenny under Bea's directions into a triangular coiffure with a tiara of jeweled rosebuds pinned in. Her gown and hairdo gave her a royal demeanor.
"You look very elegant, Bea," said Violet, "And I saw Colonel Tippen arriving, so I imagine he will be asking you for a few dances."
"Yes, my dear, one or two dances at least, or perhaps six or seven. But don't think that will distract me from chaperoning you, my dear. I take my duty very seriously."
"I don't believe people expect me to be chaperoned, Bea, as I am far from being a debutante. But I do enjoy your companionship."
"A lady's good name must be protected at all times, my dear, and after all, you are only nineteen."
"Yes, I am only nin
eteen," said Violet, a tinge of sadness seeping into her voice. What did it matter if she were nineteen or ninety to society? Had it mattered that she had been forced into sexual slavery a few days before her fourteenth birthday? Society shunned her just as if it had been her fault.
* * *
"You must obtain a sample of Violet's handwriting for me, Vera, as soon as you are able to. I need it for my plan."Lady de Compte cringed at the mention of Cade's 'plan.' "You are asking for the impossible, Cade," she said, turning away from him.
She went to the window so that he would not see the disquiet that had lately appeared in her eyes when she was in his company.
"I’m not asking the impossible. You have become a friend of the mother, it will be easy to gain access to their rooms and snatch a letter, a list or whatever. Something where I can see Violet’s handwriting."
"It would have been a lot easier before Lord Kelly left the castle, Cade," she responded, "Because now Violet spends a lot of time in her room, as Lady Kelly rests a lot. Lady Kelly has a cold and so old Lady Beaton is now accompanying Violet."
"I’m not asking you for excuses on why you cannot do what I ask, so that is the end of it. You will do as I say. Is that understood?"
A shiver ran through Vera as he stared at her with his half-lidded moonstone eyes.
"How can I gain access to their rooms when they lock them up when they are not in them?" Vera tried to disguise the fear and desperation in her voice.
Souten shook his head in disgust. "I don't believe I have ever seen you so inept. Is Violet in her room at all times? Is not her room cleaned during some part of the day?"
"Well, yes, but there is always one of their maids around. It would be hard to find Violet's room completely empty at any time of the day."
"Well, then, you must distract the maid with whatever comes to your mind, but you must get me what I want. I need a sample of Violet's handwriting, it is extremely important."
