“Why are you scowling at the dancers?” Lillian asked from her side. Lillian had arrived in London in the summer and was now engaged to the Duke of Burbridge. The love match was one to be envied, though Lillian insisted it hadn’t begun that way.
“I’m doing nothing of the sort,” Violet denied, only to realize she was still scowling. With effort, she forced a smile.
Lillian studied her, eyes narrowed. “Whatever has happened?”
“Why do you ask?” To her dismay, heat filled her cheeks.
“I don’t believe I’ve seen a less sincere smile from you unless you’re speaking of your mother. And now you’re blushing. Something is afoot.” She looped her arm through Violet’s. Was it a gesture of support or a way to make certain she didn’t escape before Lillian had found out more? “Do tell.”
Now that she finally had a sympathetic ear, Violet couldn’t bring herself to speak of the kiss.
“I’m waiting,” Lillian prompted, making Violet realize she needed to share something to explain her odd mood.
“I’m helping to plan a special Christmas for the Adleys.”
“The lovely couple who live next door to you?” Lillian had met them when Violet brought her over for a brief visit a few weeks earlier.
“Yes.”
“What a wonderful idea. And such fun.”
“It should be, except that their son has arrived home and is making the planning far more difficult.”
Lillian’s eyes went wide. “Baxter Adley?”
Now it was Violet’s turn for surprise. “You know him?”
“No, but I heard Lady Alice speaking of him at the supper we both attended last evening.” Lillian drew nearer. “She said they were quite close before he left for India three years ago and now that he’s returned, she expects they’ll renew their acquaintance.” The emphasis Lillian placed on the last word made her meaning clear.
That information brought back Violet’s scowl. “I can’t say that I care for Lady Alice, nor do my sisters.”
“She’s not a nice person, but most men seem to ignore that as she’s quite beautiful.”
“Humph.” Men were idiots not to see beneath her façade to her true self.
“Maybe we just don’t know her that well,” Lillian suggested.
Violet lifted a brow, not believing that for a moment. “I think she’s revealed her true self to us because she’s deemed us unworthy of being considered her competition. Burbridge doesn’t look at anyone other than you.”
“I do love that man.” She glanced down at the beautiful engagement ring on her hand as though to remind herself he was hers.
“And he loves you. What exactly did Lady Alice say?”
“Nothing much more.” Lillian studied Violet. “Why don’t you set your sights on the mysterious Baxter? If nothing else, it would annoy Lady Alice to no end.”
A denial died on Violet’s lips as the man in question came into view and moved directly toward them.
“Good evening,” Baxter said as he bowed, an amused glint in his eyes as though entertained by her surprise at his appearance.
Violet introduced him to Lillian, and they briefly exchanged pleasantries.
His regard returned to Violet. “Would you do me the honor of this dance?”
Violet didn’t need to look at her friend to see her pleasure at the invitation. Now that Lillian was engaged, she seemed to think all her friends needed to find love as well.
“I’d be delighted,” Violet said. And she was, no matter how much she told herself not to make too much of it.
He offered his elbow. Before she knew it, he’d swept her onto the dance floor, his hand warm and firm at her waist as the other held her hand for a waltz.
“Are you enjoying the evening?” he asked.
“Yes, and you?”
He didn’t answer for a long moment as though debating his response. That only made her more curious as to what it would be.
“Some things in London never change.” He sounded rather disappointed at the revelation.
“As in some people never change?” Was Lady Alice here, she wondered. Had they had an encounter of some sort? She didn’t care for the ache the notion brought.
“That is probably more apt.” Then he shifted his focus to her, causing her to catch her breath. Something about his close regard made her feel as if the rest of the world fell away.
“You are a refreshing change,” he said. Before she could ask what he meant, he added, “You look especially lovely this evening.”
Her stomach dipped at his words, especially at the way his gaze lingered over her gown. The pale lavender wasn’t a color she often wore as it made her think of her namesake, violets, and she’d been teased enough in her younger years to prefer to avoid the possibility. Choosing it as a fragrance was more subtle she hoped.
“Thank you. I didn’t expect to see you here.”
“I nearly didn’t come, but a friend of mine convinced me to meet him here. How nice to find you in attendance as well.”
He drew her closer as they turned on the dance floor. His moves were smooth and effortless, making her feel as if she were gliding instead of taking the required steps of the dance.
The result was lovely, and she couldn’t help but smile. “You’re an excellent dancer.”
The corner of his mouth quirked upward. “She says with a touch of surprise.”
She didn’t bother to deny it when it was true. “Perhaps we should add dancing to the Christmas festivities we’re planning for your mother and father.”
His gaze caught on something past her shoulder. Something—or someone—who caused a darkness to shutter his expression. It was as if he’d stepped away from her even though he still held her in his arms. “You’ll have to ask Mother.”
If she hadn’t come to know him so well in the past week, she might not have noticed his sudden withdrawal. Was it in reference to the dancing suggestion or something else? Whatever caused it, she didn’t care for the result.
Before she could discover anything more, the music swelled then drew to a close. He escorted her back to Lillian in silence, giving a curt “thank you” before moving behind her, quickly disappearing amid the other guests. Within a few moments, he stood speaking with Lady Alice.
Violet felt as if she’d been sampled only to be set aside for something better. Why had she thought for even a moment that she might be attracted to the man? She turned deliberately away, uncertain why his actions bothered her so much.
With effort, she searched for a topic to distract both herself and Lillian from Baxter’s behavior. “Are your brother and his lovely wife here?”
“I do believe you’re trying to evade answering my question,” Lillian said.
“What question would that be?” Violet fought the urge to search the dance floor to see if Baxter and Alice were now dancing, telling herself she had no desire to know. She didn’t want to see him look at Alice the way he’d looked at her.
“The one I asked prior to that dance,” Lillian said, a sparkle in her eye that Violet didn’t care for. “Why don’t you set your sights on the mysterious Baxter Adley?”
Violet leveled her friend a glare that might’ve wilted a weaker friend but only made Lillian smile broader. “I wouldn’t consider Baxter Adley as a potential suitor if he were the last man in London.”
The clearing of a throat behind her made Violet realize she’d said the statement louder than she intended. A long moment passed before she realized it had been a male throat that had cleared.
No. Surely it couldn’t be.
She quickly turned to face the eavesdropper to see Baxter standing directly behind her. His gaze held hers for a long moment—long enough for her to realize he’d heard every word.
The frost in his green eyes speared straight into her heart.
Then he stalked away, exiting out the terrace door.
Chapter Eight
Violet sighed as she tried to focus on the Christmas dinner me
nu that Mrs. Adley had asked her to review. The holiday was only a week away, so she was once again in their drawing room.
But Baxter was not. He’d been out each time she’d visited his parents since he’d overheard her cruel comment. His absence had stolen any opportunity to apologize.
Two days had passed since the ball when she’d declared she wouldn’t consider him as a suitor. Which had been a ridiculous thing to say since he hadn’t asked to be or called upon her or sent her a token or flowers or...
She shook her head at the long list that clearly proved he wasn’t interested in her.
Except for that kiss.
Oh, that kiss! The lilting sensation in her stomach had her drawing a long, slow breath at the memory.
If he hadn’t annoyed her with his quicksilver change in moods while they’d danced coupled with his interest in Lady Alice, she wouldn’t have said such a thing. She’d relived the terrible moment over and over. Though she didn’t think she’d actually hurt his feelings as that wasn’t within her power—was it?—she still regretted her words.
Sorely regretted them.
Wished she could take them back with every fiber of her being.
It was none of her business if he chose to renew his relationship with Alice. Never mind that kiss Violet and Baxter had shared. Did she think he deserved better? Yes. But some time in the middle of the night, she’d realized that if Alice was who he wanted, then maybe she would make him happy. He deserved to be happy. He was a good man who loved his mother and father and was doing all he could for them. That didn’t mean Violet had to like his choice.
Mrs. Adley had said he was seeing to some business affairs. Was it true or was he avoiding her?
She brought her attention back to the menu, trying to think of something helpful she could add. “Does Mr. Adley like roasted goose?”
“Yes, though we haven’t had it for an age.”
“Where is he?” Violet asked, realizing she hadn’t seen him for some time.
“He went on one of his rambles. He should be returning soon.” A frown marred her brow, suggesting she thought he was overdue as well.
“I hope he comes back before the weather worsens.” Violet rose to study the gray sky. A fine mist had started since her arrival at the Adleys’ nearly an hour ago. A sheen coated the street. She couldn’t help but shiver at the sight. “I wonder if it’s freezing.”
Mrs. Adley joined her at the window. “Oh dear.” She studied the area, her look of concern evident. “I would’ve thought he’d return before it grew too treacherous.”
Unease settled on Violet and refused to let go. “Should I go in search of him?”
The older woman paused for a long moment, as though considering her offer. “Let us give him a few more minutes before we worry. He hasn’t been gone that long.”
Violet reached out to gently squeeze her arm. “No doubt he’ll arrive at any moment and admonish us for our concern.”
Mrs. Adley gave a small smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “I’m sure you’re right.” She turned back to the table where they’d been sitting. “Mrs. Watsford makes a delightful Twelfth Night pie.”
Violet nodded as she moved back to stare at the list. “I look forward to sampling her recipe.” The pie was made of chopped meat, dried fruit, sugar, and spices, some of which would be leftover from the Christmas feast. “Though I confess I’ve never eaten it all of the twelve days until Epiphany.”
“But if you don’t have some each day, you won’t have twelve months of good luck.”
“Hmm. I’m not sure if I believe in that particular tradition.” The topic wasn’t enough to distract her or Mrs. Adley from Mr. Adley’s absence. Although only a few minutes had passed, Violet couldn’t wait any longer. “Why don’t I ask the footman to join me in searching?”
The sound of the front door closing had them both hurrying to the foyer only to find Baxter handing his hat and gloves to the footman. His black wool overcoat glistened with raindrops.
His gaze caught on them briefly before he turned his attention to unfastening his coat. “Is something amiss?”
“Your father has yet to return from his walk.”
“That’s not like him,” Baxter said, holding his hand out for his things before the footman could set them aside. “He usually avoids walking in poor weather. Samuel, why don’t you and I go in search of him?”
“I could ask a footman from my household to aid in the search.” Violet wanted some way to help as much as she wanted Baxter to forgive her. If only he’d look at her—
“With luck, we won’t need him,” Baxter replied, his gaze at last meeting hers, the flatness there making her regret her wish and causing her chest to tighten. “Samuel and I will have a quick look before we request more aid.”
“Then I shall come too,” Violet offered only to have Baxter raise a hand to halt her.
“Ice is forming on the street and walkways. ’Tis too dangerous.”
Though she wanted to insist it was the least she could do, and how sorry she was about the other night, she said neither. “Perhaps if I kept to the grass—”
“Wait here,” Baxter said as he donned his top hat, his tone brooking no argument.
The black hat made his eyes all the greener. Something about the sight made her want to step closer to adjust his overcoat so that it buttoned tightly about his neck. What was wrong with her?
With a last puzzled glance at her, no doubt because of the way she continued to stare, he and Samuel stepped to the door. “We’ll return with him shortly. No need to worry, Mother. Perhaps you could request that Mrs. Watsford prepare tea. Something warm to drink will be most welcome for all of us upon our return.”
“Of course.” His mother limped down the hall to do as he suggested.
“Baxter,” Violet pleaded, wanting to do something—anything—to help. And to apologize.
He only closed the door behind him and Samuel, leaving her alone in the foyer, feeling helpless.
~*~
Baxter knew his father’s normal path well enough to direct Samuel to follow it, leaving Baxter to take the route in reverse. Surely, his father would’ve noted the deteriorating weather and be on his way home.
Each step required focus to avoid slipping as the mist froze underfoot. The temperature had dropped significantly, and a light breeze made the chill all the more noticeable. He told himself that at least it kept the image of Violet standing alone with a pleading look upon her face from his mind. Mostly.
With a sigh, he shook his head. Who was he trying to fool? He still couldn’t remove the picture.
This wasn’t the time to worry over her feelings. A new opportunity in his business had arisen, one he hadn’t anticipated but could open many doors. He’d spent the past two days working through the details of it. But that hadn’t kept him from thinking of Violet. He told himself over and over that he was pleased to have heard her say that she wouldn’t consider him as a suitor. Nothing had been bruised but his pride. Mostly.
But the moment had proven that he wasn’t prepared to risk rejection after all. Not when his emotions were in jeopardy. He hadn’t intended to go to the ball, but when his friend insisted, he’d decided to test the waters and see if he still belonged or if he should remain out of Society for good. Attending hadn’t been as uncomfortable as he’d expected. That is until Violet had stated her opinion so clearly.
He’d caught sight of Alice during his dance with Violet. Seeing her had shaken him. But not in the same way Violet did. He’d had to speak with Alice to confront what he felt as well to deal with his memories of the past. Her rejection had lived in him too long.
His feelings where she was concerned had been built up in his mind since he’d left London. He didn’t want to take up with her where he’d left off but needed to determine what he felt. He’d been relieved to realize he didn’t feel anything. Neither resentment nor affection. Nothing.
When he married in a few years, once he returned from Bom
bay, he intended to find someone who would provide the financial connections he needed to supplement their income. Yes, he thought with a nod. A business arrangement.
One that didn’t have sparkling blue eyes or smell of her namesake.
Never mind the longing that rolled through him at the thought of Violet. Why was he tempted by her? His brief conversation with Alice should’ve served as a reminder of what could happen if one followed emotions rather than logic.
In truth, he should thank Violet for providing that reminder. Her declaration at the party had put an end to whatever simmered between them since his arrival. Christmas would soon be upon them, and then he’d leave all this behind. Mostly.
“Father?” he called, pausing to search the area, before repeating the process several times. He didn’t pass anyone to ask if they’d seen him. Few others were out in the terrible weather.
The farther he walked, slipping and sliding, the more he worried. Though he tended to think of his father as fit and healthy, he was growing older. He could’ve easily lost his balance in the freezing rain. Baxter nearly did several times. Thank goodness he hadn’t allowed Violet to venture out in this weather. He didn’t need two people to worry over.
The idea of his father falling and unable to regain his balance—or worse—kept him hurrying as quickly as he dared.
“Father?” he called again.
This time, he heard something. Heart thudding, he rounded the corner to find his father propped on an elbow on the walkway, his top hat on the ground beside him. Baxter’s heart clutched at the sight.
“Father!”
“Good of you to come in search of me, my boy.” The rough chuckle he gave wasn’t its normal hearty sound, making Baxter even more concerned. “I lost my footing.”
“Are you injured?”
“Only my pride, I think.” He grimaced as he sat up and lifted one arm. “And perhaps my hand.”
Baxter feared more than that was hurt as his father had yet to rise. With careful steps, he drew closer, realizing it was especially slippery beneath him.
“Why don’t we shift you toward the street?” Baxter suggested, taking his father’s uninjured arm to aid him. “Perhaps we can gain traction there.”
Wishing Upon A Christmas Star (The Seven Curses of London Book 8) Page 6
