Iris pondered the request for a moment.
“I truly would like to, believe it or not. However, I promised August that we would go walking this morning, as we always do.”
Now it was Iris’ turn for the dreamy look to come into her eyes as she spoke of her husband. “Have fun, though, Vi!”
Violet nodded, happy to see her sister leave. She had only a chapter left of her book and was eager to finish it, alone and uninterrupted. She didn’t think her sisters would ever understand that to interrupt her when a book was nearly finished was torture of the highest order.
She settled into the big brown monstrosity of a chair where her father liked to sit and finished the story in beautiful silence.
* * *
Iris was correct in the fact that the book selection at the general store was rather meager. However, what she was not aware of was that Mr. Tenanbaum, the owner, was a kindred spirit. He understood Violet’s love of the written word and he was happy to order for her whatever she requested. It often took weeks to arrive, but Violet appreciated the effort he went to in order to appease her. She would buy books, but he also let her borrow them from time to time. No one else quite understood her penchant for them.
So she was startled when she entered the store and rounded the last bit of merchandise to where the books awaited in the back corner. For there stood a man browsing the selection in front of him. He was tall, lean and lanky, standing with a nonchalance of which she had become rather familiar as of late. Mr. Ridlington.
She should turn around and walk out of the store, leave before he knew she was here. But she couldn’t help herself — there was something she had to know. Her curiosity got the better of her, and she tiptoed up behind him until she was standing over his shoulder.
And gasped when he turned around suddenly and smiled at her.
“Hello, Miss Violet.”
“Mr. Ridlington! I— that is, I didn’t know, I was just— How did you know I was here?”
She thought she had been perfectly silent, but apparently, he was far more perceptive than she had given him credit for.
“My purpose is to watch for danger and to know all that is around me, Miss Violet,” he said, tipping up his hat enough that she could see his dancing hazel eyes below it. “You may be light of step, but I still hear you.”
“Oh,” was all she said, and he smiled wider.
“Let me guess. You’d like to know what I am reading?”
“I, ah… yes, I would.”
He held up the book in his hands.
“Nothing particularly exciting, as it were. The exploits of William Baffin.”
“Oh, on the contrary, Mr. Ridlington — that book is quite exciting.”
He looked surprised. “You’ve read it?”
“I believe our Violet here has read every book that I bring into the store.”
Violet turned when she heard Mr. Tenanbaum. He hadn’t been at the counter when she entered.
“Good day, Mr. Tenanbaum,” she said with a sincere smile, for she always loved visiting with him. “How are you?”
“Just fine,” he said, his returning smile covering his wrinkled face. “In fact, I was about to send word to you.”
“Oh?”
“You’ll never guess what came in — Pride and Prejudice.”
“Truly?” she asked, excitement growing within her. “I thought it had sold out. I didn’t think it would be possible.”
“I do my best to find anything you request,” he said as he handed her the book. “When you’re done, I’ll read it myself, and after that, it’s yours.”
“Whatever the price, I am happy to pay.”
“It’s a gift.”
“Oh, Mr. Tenanbaum, I couldn’t—”
“You will,” he said, holding up a hand to stem her protest. “If it wasn’t for you, Violet, I’d have no one in this village to discuss all of these tomes with that no one has touched in years but you.”
Violet looked down at the floor with a small smile.
“Well, thank you again.”
“And it seems you have a fellow reader here.”
Violet looked over to Mr. Ridlington, who was watching their exchange with interest.
“Oh?”
“Yes, Mr. Ridlington has been in here every few days trying something new.”
“You are not happy with the selection at the inn, Mr. Ridlington?” Violet asked. At first, he looked worried, taken aback at her apparent dismay, but after a moment he finally realized she was joking and his face broke out into an easy grin.
“You’re jesting.”
“I am,” she said. “Did you not think I was capable of such a thing?”
“Not at all,” he said, though his face belied his words.
“Well, I am happy to have surprised you.”
When he smiled at her, she could hardly believe how much that grin changed his looks. He was a handsome man, there was no doubt, but he was also somewhat unassuming. Then he smiled that slow, easy grin through his beard, causing his eyes to sparkle and his entire countenance to change. He winked at her now, and she nearly jumped, so startled was she by how much his gesture sent a thrilling shock through her from the top of her spine down and out the tips of her toes.
“Violet,” he said, stretching her name out, and she loved how it sounded coming off of his lips. “May I call you Violet?”
“Yes, of course, everyone does.”
His eyes seemed to darken and he nodded. “Thank you. I—”
But before he could say another word, their attention was directed to the door, through which a man hurriedly entered. His attire was disheveled, his hat askew, but he seemed quite determined.
“Lord Primrose?” he called out. “Is there a Lord Primrose here?”
No one in the store said anything for a moment, and finally Violet stepped forward.
“I am very sorry, but I do not believe there is anyone in this town by such a name.”
“I was told he is staying at the inn; however when I arrived there after much confusion I was told he could be found here. The matter is quite urgent, I can assure you. I—”
“I am Lord Primrose.”
Violet blinked, startled. It sounded like Mr. Ridlington had spoken. But that couldn’t be. For he was simply Mr. Ridlington, not—
“Here you are, my lord,” the messenger said, passing him the paper he held in front of him. “Best read it quickly. I’ll remain here until you have time to craft a response.”
“Very well,” Mr. Ridlington— er, Lord Primrose— said with a nod before he turned to Violet and Mr. Tenanbaum. “My apologies. I must be going. My reading selection will have to wait for another time.”
Then, before Violet could gather her wits, he was out of the store and walking back down the street toward the inn. She swallowed hard. Lord Primrose? He was a member of the nobility and he had never mentioned such, not even once, to any of them? What was he trying to hide?
Mr. Tenanbaum cleared his throat, and Violet realized that she was staring after Mr. Ridlington— or, she should say, Lord Primrose. She gathered her wits to herself and turned back to the counter.
“Thank you again, Mr. Tenanbaum, for bringing this in for me. I will be sure to return it for your own reading as soon as I can.”
“Enjoy it, Violet,” he said as she began walking toward the door. “Oh, and Violet? I’m sure your Lord Primrose there had a reason for not telling you who he was. Likely didn’t want to seem too pretentious or some such thing.”
“Of course,” she said with a forced smile, but she wasn’t so sure as she pushed open the door and followed his footsteps down the street.
6
The boarders and family gathered together in the guest sitting room reminded Violet of another time which had been equally horrific — when they had been together for the musicale at which she and her sisters had to provide the entertainment.
But that was a story for another day, and today they had much larger
concerns if the look upon Lord Primrose’s face was any indication.
He stood at the front of the room, leaning against the wall. Despite his stance, his eyes were alert as they moved over the lot of them gathered within the room. There were six other former soldiers, her sisters’ husbands, and her own family.
“I have received a missive,” he said, tipping his hat away from his face, “and the news is somewhat troubling.”
Violet bit her lip. Whatever this news was, would he be leaving? Though that concern should be far from her thoughts. Why did it matter at all?
“Some of you may know of Comtois, who stayed here a few months ago. He originally went by ‘Mr. Cooper,’ until his true identity as a French spy was discovered.”
Violet looked down at her hands. Unfortunately, she knew more about Comtois than she would have liked.
“Well,” he said, drawling the word out much to the dismay of all who were awaiting him to speak, “It seems that Comtois has escaped his containment.”
“What?” came the outspoken cry around the room, Iris’ being the loudest, which was understandable. The man had captured and attempted to kill the man who was now her husband, after all.
Lord Primrose cringed, clearly not relishing being the one to share the news.
“He apparently faked an illness. His guards thought he was dying. When they rushed in to help, he was ready and able to escape.”
“While we do not wish to hear of a prisoner escaping, what does that mean for us?” asked one of the soldiers who was convalescing at the inn.
“The trouble is that Comtois knows all about The Wild Rose Inn,” Lord Primrose said with an apologetic look at the family. “Not only that, but he now has his own vendetta and wishes to see the inn — and the Tavners family — come to harm. We have no idea where he is, and if or when he might return here.”
“Good heavens!” Violet’s mother exclaimed with a bit of a shriek and much trepidation in her voice. “That is most troubling. Whatever are we to do?”
“Now see here,” Violet’s father, Elias, said, standing. “That is certainly not what I signed up for. I was told that the inn would remain shrouded in secrecy, that we had nothing to worry about.”
“I am sure those promises were made with the best of intentions,” Lord Primrose said calmly. “However, sometimes, especially in war, circumstances change.”
“Well, I will not stand for this!” raged Elias, but Lord Primrose continued speaking in his matter-of-fact tone.
“Unfortunately, there is nothing we can do now — but defend this inn,” he said, setting his jaw stoically. “I have a plan. There are not many of us here, but the ten of us, and anyone else from the village who will volunteer must create a militia. We will defend this inn from any who attempt to do it harm, until such time that the threat no longer exists. In fact, I suggest that we get the word out and begin training this very afternoon.”
“Perhaps we should all just leave,” Alice exclaimed. “My daughters each have substantial homes.”
“You are more than welcome to do so, Alice,” Violet’s father’s voice boomed. “But I will stay here and defend what is mine!”
Violet exchanged a worried glance with her sisters, embarrassed at their parents’ argument in front of the other men who were gathered here. On one point her mother, however, was right.
The sisters gathered together off to the side for a private discussion. Violet turned to Marigold, who was sitting next to her. “You should go, “she said, “Especially you, in your expectant condition.”
“I agree,” Marigold said with a nod. “And you all will come with us.”
“I cannot,” Violet said with a shake of her head. “Someone needs to see to the inn and the guests. We know that Father could never do it, and it would be best Mother leave as well.”
“You will not stay here alone!”
“Father will be here.”
“Yes, but—”
“August and I will stay,” Iris said resolutely. “I’m sure he will feel responsible.”
“Nonsense,” Violet said.
It was then that they noticed the makeshift meeting had begun to break up, and the men were beginning to consult one another about their next plans. Daisy’s husband, the Duke of Greenwich, and Lord Westwood were actively in the conversation, though Marigold’s husband, Lord Dorchester, looked worriedly back at his wife.
“Go,” Daisy urged. “We shall be fine.”
Marigold placed her hands over her stomach before looking up, though her worried expression remained.
“Very well,” she said, biting her lip. “But I don’t like this.”
And though she agreed with her sister, somehow, with Lord Primrose here, Violet didn’t feel worried at all.
* * *
Despite his best efforts, Owen could not convince the family to leave.
“How are the soldiers supposed to function if they do not have clean linens and food upon the table?” Daisy argued as only the family remained in the room with him.
“I will have the maids do it,” Elias Tavners said, but Violet shook her head.
“We cannot ask them to stay when we ourselves would go. That would be cowardly.”
Owen was impressed with her compassion, but slightly frustrated with it as well.
“Marigold and her husband are packing at this moment,” Daisy said. “Which is wise, with the babe and Dorchester’s inability to fight due to his injuries, anyway. The rest of us will stay here and watch out over this place.”
Owen realized he wasn’t getting anywhere with his argument, and finally relented.
“Fine,” he said. “But please, will you promise to stay out of the way of the men’s training? I wouldn’t like anyone to be injured. And one more thing.”
They all looked at him expectantly.
“It would be best if you all learned to defend yourself as well.”
“Oh, exciting!” Iris said, and he looked over at her.
“I realize this may seem somewhat of a thrill, but this must be taken seriously. For all we know, Comtois may return to France and forget he ever knew anything about The Wild Rose Inn. But we must be prepared should that not be the case.”
The women’s faces turned serious — though Violet’s had been from the beginning. Although she was rather quiet and seemed to defer to her sisters, there was an inner strength about her that was slowly revealing itself to him, a side that Owen wanted to know much more about.
As the family began to return to their own quarters, Owen stepped forward and placed a hand on Violet’s arm.
“Would you have a moment for a quick word?” he murmured, and she nodded. He saw her sisters look back at her with some question, but she motioned for them to continue on without her.
Seeing that some of the other soldiers remained, Owen led her out the back door of the inn to the gardens. The sun was just beginning to set from behind the inn, and Violet’s face was bathed in a beautiful golden glow that shone off of her cheekbones, her unexpected beauty becoming so enchanting that Owen nearly lost his train of thought.
“Miss Violet—”
“Violet.”
“Violet, yes,” he said, clearing his throat. He was making a mess of this. And why? It was not as though he ever had a particularly difficult time speaking to a young woman.
“I realize that you were rather… surprised to hear me addressed as Lord Primrose.”
She nodded, but looked down at a point somewhere on his chest, not meeting his eyes. “I was, my lord, and am rather embarrassed that I — and my family — have referred to you as Mr. Ridlington since you arrived.”
He waved a hand in the air. “Nothing to be embarrassed about. How could you be, when I was the one who neglected to mention such a thing?”
“Is there a reason you hid your title from us?” she asked, meeting his eye now.
“Not at all,” he said with a shrug. “I was introduced as Owen Ridlington and left it at that. My title has nothin
g to do with the role I am to serve here, and I would rather not mention it when it’s not warranted. I would prefer to know more about the goings on around Southwold, and it is easier when one is not seen as a peer.”
“I suppose I can understand that,” she said slowly. “What am I to tell my family?”
Owen was relieved that, from her question, she had apparently not mentioned anything yet.
“I would prefer to remain Owen Ridlington, if you feel comfortable in not saying anything further.”
“I would not lie if I was asked, but I do not see any issue in not mentioning what I know.”
“Thank you, Violet.”
Her cheeks turned quite a pretty pink suddenly as she looked at him with some intent.
“And how am I to refer to you now?”
“I think Owen will suffice. It will make things slightly less confusing.”
The corners of her lips turned up into a small smile that was just for him, as though they shared a secret of which no one else was a part.
“Very well… Owen.”
He had never thought much of his name — good nor bad, it was just his name. But now, hearing it upon her lips, he suddenly felt quite blessed that his parents had decided to name him such.
He cleared his throat.
“You’d best get your rest, for tomorrow we will begin practicing.”
“Practicing?” she asked with a spark in her eyes, and suddenly he thought of all the things they could spend time becoming proficient at.
“On how to best defend yourself.”
“Oh, yes, that’s right,” she said, her flaming cheeks causing a quickening of his heartbeat as he realized that she was thinking along the same lines as he. “I look forward to it.”
He would have as well, were this under better circumstances. As it was, he was becoming concerned about the potential threat of Comtois and the French. Were it another stronghold he was defending, so be it, but to know that Violet — and her family — could be in danger was making him fearful. He did wish they had all taken his advice and relocated for a time, but he couldn’t force them to move anywhere. He could only keep them safe.
A Viscount for Violet: The Blooming Brides Book 4 Page 4
