A Marquess for Christmas

by Vivienne Westlake

  “Aye. She did.”

  His pursed lips gave nothing away. The tension in him was as tangible as a bow string, pulled back and ready to aim.

  “She will never forgive herself for not being the perfect mother. Maybe you should forgive her.”

  “I never expected her to be.”

  Violet licked her lips and watched him. His hair glistened in the soft orange light and the side of his face was masked in shadow.

  “You want her to treat you as a friend, but you have to understand that she will never be that. Not to you.”

  “Why?” His dark eyes looked like polished onyx and the break in his voice gave the tear away.

  “Bella will always be your guardian, the meddlesome sister who expects more of you than she expects of anyone else.”

  “I am the head of the family, Violet. I am the one to make the decisions. Yet she argues with me at every turn.”

  “She loves you. She feels responsible for everything you do. Every choice you make, good or bad, reflects on her.”

  His voice sliced the air, a thick sword cutting through the fabric that held them together. “You would take her side? Over mine?”

  “I have taken no one’s side, Kit. Your sister is distraught and crying. I only hoped you would understand why she does as she does.”

  “What I understand is that she has no respect for me.” His glass jostled as he threw it down. “What I understand is that you came in here to defend her. She was rude to you. She disrespected your home, taking over everything in a few hours as if she were the queen in residence. Why would you defend her?”

  Violet stood to stroke his face. “We are all afraid of something, Kit. She is afraid of losing you, losing her parents, of not living up to whatever promises she made to take care of you. Though she goes about it the wrong way, her intentions are good.”

  As she spoke, Violet thought of her troubled relationship with her own father. She’d spent so much time trying to please him, trying to be the perfect daughter and when he’d begun losing his mind at the end, he fought her tooth-and-nail though she only sought his safety and comfort. But she had promised her mother and Westley that she would take care of him and no matter how rude he was, she could not break that promise.

  Kit sighed. “I can forgive ill intentions. I cannot forgive her continued disrespect.”

  She knew he was hurting and she wanted to help him. But she could not hide the truth from him. It was not in her nature. In the war, she’d learned that there were times when the bullet, or the bandage, must be torn off.

  Kit was responsible to his family and title. It was something he had to accept, whether or not he agreed with his sister.

  “Consider that perhaps if you acted as the marquess, if you showed some inclination toward your responsibilities, then Bella would not act this way.”

  “And you think I should just throw off my life, marry some vapid, dimwitted Countess, resign myself to boring days at court and parliament and a wife I cannot stand, all so I can have two heirs and be a proper marquess?”

  His face was in hers, his breath reeked of alcohol. “I said none of that. Kit, all your sister wants is for you to grow up. I realize that your title is not a choice you made. But like it or not, it is yours and cannot be passed off to anyone else until you die. Do you not want to honor your father’s legacy?”

  “My father loved whores, dice, and cards. Sometimes he loved stable boys, too.” Kit waived his hand. “Do not tell Bella that. Bella has this memory of our father as a hero, as a man who fought for his country, to subdue the brash Americans and restore the great and noble rule of Britain.” His voice slurred as he spat the words out.

  “Then do better than he. Be better than he was.”

  Violet realized now that the reason he didn’t tell her about his past had more to do with his family than it did her. Why would he want to go home if he only felt reproach and ridicule from his only sibling and caretaker?

  “I am my own man.”

  “Yes, you are, Kit. But being a man also means doing things you do not want to do. Because it is right and necessary, not because it is pleasurable or expedient.” She’d learned that in the war, with her family, even with John.

  “Why did I think you would understand? I had hoped that you would see things my way. When you walked in here and I saw your heavenly face, I thought my angel had come.” His face sunk and he took the decanter and poured another glass. “But you are like them. You must always have your way.”

  If she had her way, they would not be arguing right now. They would be nestled together somewhere far away from everyone and everything, kissing and teasing one another to ecstasy. It was a wish, a fantasy. Right now, she had to do what needed to be done.

  “Kit, you need to make up with your sister. You’re inebriated and disconcerted. Go and lie down. Sleep off the brandy and we shall sort out this mess tomorrow.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Kit stared at Violet, wondering how the day could have gone so wrong. He should have barred Freddy and Bella from the door the moment they arrived. Why hadn’t he sent them packing?

  His common sense had gone out the door. Now he was on his fourth glass of brandy, not to mention the wine he’d had at the start of dinner. God’s blood, he hadn’t even eaten.

  Why was he such a silly fool when it came to Bella? He knew he was being childish. He knew Violet was right. Somehow, it still bothered him. Her censure hurt worse than Bella’s taunts and jibes.

  He might not have flown off the handle if Bella hadn’t chastised him in front of Violet.

  “I will go to bed if you come with me,” he said.

  Violet sighed. “No.”

  “No?”

  “You heard me, Kittrick. No.”

  It was odd to hear his name on her lips. She only knew him as Kit and that was all he wanted to be. All he’d ever wanted to be.

  “I will behave. I promise.” He leaned in to kiss her but her palm stopped him.

  “Go to bed.”

  “I am not sleepy.”

  “Then go and read. You have had two glasses of wine and four of brandy.”

  She’d counted his drinks even before they’d entered the study. So she had paid attention to him tonight, despite her cool façade.

  “I love you,” he said, wrapping his arms around her and trying to entice her.

  “I will not sleep with you, Kit.” She turned away from him. “I have no wish to spend the night with a drunk.”

  It stung. He’d told her he loved her and she did not say it back. Yes, he spoke the words teasingly, but he did mean them.

  “I love you, Violet,” he repeated. A throbbing filled his head, which felt like a barrel full of rocks tumbling down a cliff.

  She did not turn back to face him. “Goodnight, Kit.” She walked to the door.

  He didn’t believe it until he heard her footsteps down the hall. She’d left him.

  Kit slumped into a chair and sipped at his brandy. Fucking idiot. He’d never told a woman he loved her before. Sure, he told her he loved her body, loved her smile, loved her breasts and all the sweet things she could do between the bed sheets. But this was the first time he’d confessed love as it was meant to be.

  And Violet did not care at all.

  A knife twisted in his gut. Violet was practical, responsible. She prided herself on fulfilling her duties and obligations. What if he was an obligation that she was now finished with? His family had come for him and now his identity was revealed. There was no need to look after him further.

  She did not love him. What if she did not like him anymore either? Could he bear to wake up in the morning and see the disgust on her face? He’d shown her his worst side tonight. What if she wanted nothing to do with him now?

  Kit buried his face in his hands. He’d fucked up. Just like he fucked up everything. He thrived on being in control, on being in charge, but the truth was he could not handle the thought of being useless, of being a disappointment.
He figured if he laughed off the rules of society and eschewed decorum and propriety, he would be the one determining his own destiny. He would make his own rules.

  Violet Laurens changed everything. Now he wanted to be able to take her to the theatre and rides through Hyde Park. To sneak a kiss at Vauxhall Gardens and to watch the horse races with her. In the evening, they would play hazard until they were breathless and spent, literally and figuratively.

  But his fantasies crumbled like ash in a hearth. For the first time since his parents’ death, Kit felt utterly alone.

  * * * *

  The room was dark when Violet awoke. An icy chill crept over her and she leaned over to feel Kit’s warm body and realized he wasn’t there. For the first night in a long time, she’d slept alone.

  She threw back the covers and looked down to see Miriam sleeping on a pallet on the floor.

  When the floorboard creaked, Miriam jumped up. “My lady. What do you need?”

  “Why are you on the floor and not in your own room?”

  “Because Avery asked me to check on you last night. You cried in your sleep and I did not think I should leave you alone.”

  Violet walked to her vanity as Miriam got up and pulled open the drapes. In the mirror, she saw the puffy spots under her eyes. She had been crying.

  Things with Kit were disintegrating rapidly. She’d never seen him so dejected and unsure. He’d been angry before, frustrated with being cooped up in the house under the doctor’s orders. He’d thrown things when plagued with memory loss. Still, this was different.

  There was a hole inside of him, an emptiness she’d never seen before. The raw abyss frightened her. She understood now that he filled that hole with anything that could stave off the blackness—whiskey, wine, women, boxing, sport, and anything that asserted his dominance.

  Was she merely another diversion from his deeper fears and insecurities? Was this whole thing about his need to be in control, his need to pretend that his past, his family didn’t matter?

  “Please pardon my impertinence, but you do not seem well, my lady. Can I get you something? Tea? A bit of bread and cheese? You hardly ate last night.”

  “A bit of cider will be fine. Please do check if the others are awake.”

  “Yes, my lady.”

  Violet unpinned her hair, which she’d not even bothered to braid up last night, and fingered the handle of her silver brush.

  Kit’s words came rushing back to her. I love you. In his drunken stupor, he’d said the one thing she wanted to hear. Well, the one thing apart from I will stay here with you.

  How could he say that, even in jest? His slurred words and playful tone left no doubt in her mind that he meant none of it. He merely wanted her to take his side, to defend him to Bella. How could he be so insensitive?

  What a mess. She’d embroiled herself in a conflict that was not her own, in a family drama that had played out for decades. Could she make things right between Daniel and Isabella?

  Her mouth soured as if she’d drank a bitter tea. She still couldn’t think of him as Daniel. Even after yesterday.

  Should she disentangle herself and send them on their merry way? She could be done with Kit, done with his family, and try to make some sense of her disordered world. He would leave her heart in shambles when he walked out the door.

  Violet had always done what needs must be done. She would pick herself up and carry on as she had before. John had left. Kit would soon be gone, too. Perhaps it was her inevitable fate to survive the men she loved. At least she could rely on Avery.

  Miriam returned with the cider. It was a bit early for liquor, but Violet needed to fortify herself before she faced Kit and his sister. It looked to be a long day ahead.

  “Are the others awake?”

  “The duke and duchess are abed. The marquess is up.” Miriam put her hand on Violet’s arm. “My lady, you should go to him. Now.”

  “He needs to cool off. He was hot-tempered last night and likely didn’t sleep it off.”

  “No, my lady, I do not think he did. Mrs. Norris said he is leaving.”

  What? Would he pack up and go without so much as a by-your-leave?

  Miriam handed Violet a dressing gown. Though she did not want to be caught so undressed with the duke and duchess in the house, it could not be helped.

  As soon as she had her arms through the robe, she rushed into the hall, tying her belt as she went. Once she stepped into the hall, she realized she’d forgotten her slippers. The cold wood seeped into her toes.

  When she made it into the hall, she saw Kit arguing with Avery.

  “Take it.” Kit handed him what looked like an envelope. “Take it and the money.”

  “No, my lord. If you should wish to depart, you must have the decency to tell my lady directly.”

  “It is better this way. Trust me.”

  “I will order your horse brought around for you, but I will not do this,” he said, handing back the letter.

  “Fine. I will give it to Miriam or slip it under her door.”

  “Good.” Avery turned around and saw her standing in the doorframe. His eyes were stormy. “I do not think that will be necessary, sir.” He coughed.

  Kit turned toward her. His hair was a mess, his cravat tied crookedly, and he was wearing his dinner clothes.

  “I would say good morning; however, it is anything but.”

  “Violet.”

  The word sounded like paper being torn from a book.

  “Kittrick.” She faced his bleak stare with a hard one of her own. Frowning, she went over to him and loosened his cravat.

  His hands gripped her wrists. “What are you doing?”

  “I am fixing everything you have left a shambles.” The words were out of her mouth before she could stop herself. Why on earth did she say that?

  “So again it is my fault.”

  “You are the most stubborn, domineering man. If you were not as big as an oak tree, I would turn you over my knee.”

  “Do not say such things.” The heat in his voice melted her insides to butter.

  “And do not think to resolve the argument by tying me to the bed.”

  “It is no matter. Violet, I am leaving.” He thrust the letter into her face.

  She set it down next to the vanity. “If you have something to say to me, you say it to me. Not like this.” She pointed to the letter.

  “There is nothing more for me to say. I am going. Isabella and I have been bickering for twenty years. This is nothing new, but I would not burden you with it. We will take the argument elsewhere and leave you out of it.”

  Had she not thought the very same this morning? Yet the thought of him going was like having her chest slashed open.

  “You are running away, Daniel, and you know it.”

  He jerked back as if she’d slapped him in the face. “Kit. My name is Kit, Violet. First you call me Kittrick and now Daniel. Does that mean you are done with me? That you have forgotten about the past month and everything we have shared together? You will treat me as some estranged relative that you can barely tolerate?”

  “You are being foolish.” He was so wrapped up in his own anger and self-pity that he could not see the forest for the trees.

  “And you are cruel.”

  “I have done nothing but care for you, nurse you—” love you, “—and share all that I have with you. You are a spoiled child. Sooner or later, you will have to take responsibility.”

  “But not today.”

  “I would have asked you to stay, yet it is obvious to me that such words will fall on deaf ears. You have made up your mind. At least have the decency to tell your sister before you go.”

  “Since you are now her best friend, you tell her.”

  How could he be so ridiculous? This strong, brave man who fought off two thieves—who seduced her into letting him do all manner of sinful things to her, who commanded with the ease of a prince—was running from her, running from his family. He had not the cour
age to face the monsters in his mind.

  “Do as you like, my lord. Obviously there is nothing here for you, nothing worth staying for.” She wanted him to change his mind. She wanted him to say that she was worth fighting for. She wanted him to be the man she’d fallen in love with and not this frightened little boy fleeing the ghosts of his past.

  “Why would I stay? It is obvious that you and Bella have decided what my life should be, who I should be. I will not live my life feeling as a failure because I didn’t live up to your expectations.”

  “If you feel like a failure it is because you choose it, not because Bella or I have made it so. You have always been free to do as you wish and from the sound of things, you have done just that. Do you ever stop to think that your actions have consequences?”

  “My actions are my own. Bella cannot live her life through me. She spends so much time trying to fix my life that she ignores her own.”

  “Then fix your own life, Daniel. Be a better man for yourself and for Isabella.”

  “Goodbye, Violet.” He took her in his arms and though she wanted to cling to him, to shed the tears that were drowning her inside, she did not. The lips that pressed into her forehead were gentle. “Thank you for seeing to my health and looking after me when I could not do so for myself.”

  He squeezed her hand as he walked toward the door. “I have told Avery where to send my things. I will send word when I have arrived safely.” He turned to point at the three guineas sitting atop the dresser. “See that your man takes the money. He refused the gratuity when I offered it to him.”

  “I will.”

  His gaze was an ocean and she felt herself sinking down into its depths. There was nothing to save her from the crashing waves. Kit was leaving and she might never see him again.

  She wanted him to go. Wanted to erase the wounds he’d opened yesterday. She wanted him to stay. Wanted to recover the pleasure they’d known two days ago when she loved him and there was still hope.

  He hadn’t left yet. She could still tell him. She could say the words he wanted to hear. If she took his side, maybe he would stay.

  But the Kit she loved was brave, confident, honorable. If he could not be the man she believed in, then she did not want him to remain. Violet had taken care of so many lost boys in the war, she’d taken care of a husband who had lost capability and his confidence due to the illness that racked his body. Kit had shown her that it was time that someone took care of her. If that could not be him, then she would be patient and hope to find the man that could.