“I am sure she will not mind marrying an earl,” Joshua replied, jauntily. “She responded quite well to me last evening, I must say.”
A slight groan escaped from Taylor’s mouth as he rolled his eyes. “I will not ask what you mean by that, Greville.”
“Best not to,” Joshua chuckled, getting up from his chair and walking over to his desk. “I’d best send a notice to the paper at once.”
From behind him, he heard Taylor cough and splutter as he apparently choked on his port. “You do not intend to simply announce it without asking the lady — and her father, a duke?”
“That is precisely what I intend to do,” Joshua replied, scribbling down a quick note on some parchment. “How else am I to ensure she accepts?”
“That is quite underhanded, Greville,” Taylor replied, sounding more than a little shocked. “What if she refuses to go ahead with the marriage? You will bring shame on her and on yourself.”
Joshua grinned, sanding the parchment, sealing it and walking over to ring the bell. “That is precisely why she will not refuse and, if she does have any inclination towards that kind of response, I shall simply ensure that I find a way to encourage her to accept.”
Taylor shook his head, getting up to refill his port glass. “I do not think this wise, Greville. I know you have always been one to act on impulse, but marriage is not something you enter into lightly.”
“I do not enter into it lightly,” Joshua replied, firmly. “I am quite sure that, once this business is sorted out in its entirety, I shall find Lady Harrington to be a most wonderful wife. She seems sensible, which is exactly the kind of lady I need by my side. You know as well as I do, Taylor, that the most important aspect of choosing a wife is finding someone tolerable enough to share your life with. Besides, I have my home in the country where she can reside while I am in London if we do not suit as well as I do believe we will.”
It looked as though Taylor was going to argue for a moment longer, but instead, he simply sighed, throwing his hands up as he sat back down in his chair.
“Take this at once,” Joshua said, handing his note to the butler who appeared in the doorway. “Tell them it is to make tomorrow’s paper.”
“Of course, milord,” the butler intoned, walking out of the study and closing the door firmly behind him. Joshua looked at the closed door for a moment longer, a feeling of satisfaction growing in his chest. Despite Taylor’s concerns, he could see no way forward other than this. He had to protect Lady Harrington and, in marrying her, he could secure his own future in addition. It was quite the perfect solution.
“I expect you shall have the lady in question battering down your door come the morning,” Taylor said, mildly. “You do not know what you have let yourself in for, Greville.”
Joshua chuckled, sitting back down beside his friend. “Maybe she will, but that will just prove the fortitude of her character,” he replied, calmly. “Now, let us discuss what we must do as regards Sir Whitby. I mean to find those responsible and bring them to justice.”
“So that you can then settle down into the happiness that matrimony is sure to bring,” Taylor said, drily.
The grin did not leave Joshua’s face. “Indeed,” he answered, before turning his thoughts back towards Sir Whitby.
7
A sudden screech had Violet dropping her china cup to the carpeted floor, barely stopping to pick it up as she rushed from the dining room out into the hallway, panicking that her mother had somehow fallen ill.
"Mama?" she called, hearing yet another squeal. "Mama!" Rushing into the drawing room, she saw her mother sitting in a high-backed armchair by the hearth, one hand covering her mouth with the other holding the society papers.
“Whatever is the matter, Mama?” she asked, coming to kneel by her mother’s knee so that she might look into her face. “Are you ill? Can I fetch you some tea?”
Her mother’s eyes stared down at her as though she was a ghost, making Violet panic all the more.
“How dare you not tell me such wonderful news?” her mother breathed eventually, looking at Violet with daggers in her eyes, causing her to rise and take a step back. “How dare you?”
Nonplussed, Violet stared at her mother, completely confused over what she was being asked. She hardly noticed her father enter the room, apparently concerned enough at her mother’s shrieks to leave his study to see what was the matter.
“You are not going to stand there and pretend you have no knowledge of what I speak, are you?”
"In truth, Mama, I have no worldly idea of what you are talking about," Violet replied, sitting down opposite her and leaning forward, still concerned for her mother's wellbeing.
“Whatever is the matter, Marie?” the Duke finally asked as he looked from one of them to the other.
Marie sighed and tossed her head, a smile now crossing her lips. “Violet is to be wed! Why did you not tell me of your engagement?” Her eyes met Violet’s, a crazy gleam to her expression now. “A secret, no doubt, but still! You should have admitted as much to me when I spoke to you the other evening about the man.”
Violet simply stared. A chill spread into her veins, making its way through all of her limbs until she felt completely frozen to her chair. Betrothed? She was betrothed? But that was impossible. She hadn’t had a suitor make a proposal to her for months now, and any she had received she had turned down. She looked at her father to see if he knew anything of what her mother spoke, but he seemed as perplexed as she. There must be some mistake. Her mother said she had spoken to her about the man. That meant — oh dear.
“Lord Greville will make a wonderful husband,” her mother sighed, looking almost dreamy with delight. “An earl, of course, so you will be more than comfortable. Oh, Lionel, isn’t it wonderful?”
Reaching forward, she patted Violet’s hand. “I suppose I must forgive you for keeping such a thing to yourself. I know how private you can be about these things.”
Violet stared at her, unbelieving, her body frozen in place.
“Might I see the paper, Mama?” Violet finally managed to say, wondering if, perhaps, she was in some kind of dream and was about to wake up at any moment. The shock of what she had witnessed barely two days before had not yet quite worn off and now she could barely comprehend what her mother was saying.
The paper shook as she held it with trembling fingers, her eyes falling on the notice that yes, just as her mother had said, declared her betrothal to the Earl of Wanfield, Lord Greville. It was there in black and white, giving his address at the very bottom so that no one would be in doubt as to who he was. Violet felt cold, steel bars shutter themselves around her. She was tied to him now, no matter how much she protested. To break herself from this betrothal would bring scandal and shame on her family, and, with younger siblings, Violet knew that such an act would affect them also. She could not do it.
Her mother, still lost in a plethora of delightful feelings, barely noticed when Violet excused herself. Her father smiled to himself at the terrific match his daughter had made, and mumbled about when Lord Greville might be calling on him. Violet’s heart beat fast as she made her way blindly to her room, only stopping to ask the butler to have the carriage brought around.
What had Lord Greville been thinking? What had possessed him to announce their betrothal in such a manner, without even discussing it with her, and her father. This could not be because of that particular evening, for a single kiss did not amount to anything. Gentlemen of standing stole kisses whenever they could, did they not? And an earl could have any woman he wished as his wife, so why had he chosen her? She was in no doubt that it was the Earl himself responsible for sending in the notice.
She threw a pelisse over her white sprigged muslin dress, printed with delicate rosebuds, and with trembling fingers she tied her bonnet ribbons, hurriedly making her way from the house and into the waiting carriage. She was not about to wait for Lord Greville to visit her during the correct visiting hours, as a lady ought. N
o, she was determined to find out the truth from him, whether he was ready to receive her or not.
As the carriage rattled through the cobbled streets, Violet struggled to think clearly, changing from white-hot rage to a sudden urge to break down in tears. It was not that she wasn’t attracted to the man — she would be lying to herself if she said she was not. However, this was not at all what she had expected to happen, thinking only that Lord Greville might call upon her to ensure that she was well, as he had promised. She had not expected to discover her betrothal to him from the society papers!
Violet had never wanted to marry a man simply because of his title or wealth, for she was quite sure that would not make her happy. She sought affection and love, an acceptance of all that she was, which included her bluestocking tendencies. As yet, she had not met a single gentleman willing to offer all that she sought, and she was not at all certain that Lord Greville would come up to scratch either. She did not appreciate her life being dictated by another, and the Earl would soon have to realize this for himself.
A slightly wry smile crossed her face, wondering if Lord Greville truly knew what he was doing in boldly announcing their betrothal when he knew so very little about her. She did not think that an earl would particularly care for a lady such as she, but she was adamant that she would not change her interests or desires simply for his sake. She would continue with the expansion of her mind and in practicing useful pursuits, instead of trifles such as needlework or watercolor painting. Mayhap Lord Greville would wish to end the engagement when he realized the kind of woman she truly was!
A sudden lurch made her cling frantically to the seat cushions, hearing all kinds of shouts and screams as the carriage swung wildly from side to side. She could hardly get her breath, hanging onto the strap for dear life as she wondered what on earth could be going on.
Without warning, just as she heard the coachman shout something about the horses running free, the entire carriage tipped onto its side, flinging Violet across the carriage as her grip on the strap slipped completely. Her head hit something hard, making stars spark in her vision. She felt a warm liquid trickle down her face, and she blinked furiously, trying to see clearly as her vision blurred even further.
From outside the carriage, she heard people shouting, with loud male voices growing ever closer. Filled with an unearthly panic, Violet tried to right herself, only to find her skirts were caught on something she could not see.
The smell of smoke filled her nostrils, making her heart slam repeatedly into her chest. She moved to find a way to climb out of the carriage, but something pulled her backward, and she realized her dress was wedged into the metal of the carriage. She furiously yanked at her skirts, but as hard as she tugged they wouldn’t budge.
“Help!” she cried, as the smoke turned into a crackle, telling her that the carriage had caught alight. “Help me, please!”
“Lady Harrington?”
“Here,” she coughed, as smoke filled the small space. “Please, I am stuck!”
There was a smashing sound, accompanied by the shriek of twisted metal, and as her dress was freed, a strong hand grasped her leg.
“You will permit me?”
Violet could barely agree, such was the pounding in her head and the cough that racked her lungs but, eventually, she was hauled from the carriage in a most unladylike manner. Falling against her savior, she coughed for a long time, feeling as though she might become ill right there in the middle of the street.
“This way.”
A strong arm wrapped around her waist and, as she looked up through bleary eyes, she saw that it was none other than Lord Greville, her betrothed, who had come to her rescue.
“What happened?” she gasped, as she was led into his home and placed onto a camelback upholstered settee by the hearth in what looked to be the drawing room. “The carriage…I…”
“Wait here for a moment, if you please,” he said, quietly. “I must get the doctor.”
She shook her head. “I am quite all right, I assure you.”
His eyes caught hers, one hand gently cradling her chin. “You are not all right, my dear. You have a nasty wound, which has caused some bleeding. In addition, I am worried about your racking cough.”
“How could the carriage catch fire?” she asked, grasping his hand so that he could not move away. “I do not understand what happened to cause such a thing!”
The look on his face became somewhat grim, his eyes darkening so that a coil of fear settled itself in her belly. Even though he smiled at her, Violet knew that he was greatly concerned over what had just happened.
"I am sure it was just an accident," he said, eventually. "My friend, Lord Taylor, was here when we heard the commotion outside and he is currently investigating. The constables have also arrived. Just let me ring the bell and ensure that they do not require any assistance. Please, rest your head back and close your eyes. You have been through yet another ordeal, my lady.”
Violet realized that she could not disagree, as much as she wanted to, finding that letting her eyes close brought a very great relief. The pain in her head had not lessened, and she realized as her fingers reached up and touched something sticky, that the warmth she had felt on her face was that of her own blood.
“Careful now,” came Lord Greville’s voice, as he knelt down in front of her. “That does look quite nasty. May I clean the blood off?”
She nodded, attempting to sit up but finding she could not. Her body ached with tiredness as he began to gently clean the blood from her face, making her hiss with pain when he drew closer to the wound.
“I am sorry,” he murmured, sounding worried. “I am trying to be as gentle as I can.”
Violet managed to open her eyes and saw the concern on his face.
“I shall not need a doctor, shall I?” she asked, desperately hoping she did not.
He shook his head. “I am not quite sure.”
“I was on my way to see you, my lord,” she continued, as she remembered why she had come. “I saw the paper this morning.”
His ministrations paused for a moment, his eyes meeting hers with a look of trepidation in them. “I see,” he said slowly. “I do hope you are glad about such a thing.”
“Glad?” she exclaimed, ignoring the sudden stab of pain in her head as she attempted to sit up a little straighter. “I do not recall you proposing to me, my lord!”
“Do you not?” he replied, quietly. “Then that was my mistake. However, I do not kiss ladies in the gardens unless I have every intention of wedding them.”
Violet frowned, suddenly confused by what his attention to her, two nights previously, had truly meant. "You kissed me so as to hide my identity from those in the garden."
An astonished expression crossed his face. “Did you truly believe that to be the case? I can assure you, my dear Lady Harrington, that it is not what you think. I confess that I was quite taken with you, and I assure you that I have never behaved in such a way before.” His fingers touched the curve of her jaw as his dark eyes assessed the wound on her head. “You have captured me completely.”
Completely stunned by his words, Violet tried to calm the frantic beating of her heart and think sensibly. “You are jesting, my lord.”
His eyes met hers, his eyebrows raised. “Am I? Have you not heard that I do not frequently dance with ladies at any gathering I have been at? Yet I danced two dances with you, and wished for a third, had you not prevented me.”
“That does not mean – ”
"I believe we will rub along very well together," he said, interrupting her and taking her hand in his. "I do apologize for my mistake in issuing such a thing without speaking with you first, but I had thought that you would not be upset in the least."
“Because you are an earl, of course,” she said, wryly. “And any young lady should have her heart fluttering over you.”
His impish grin made her heart lift, despite her ongoing frustrations. “No, because I was quite sure t
hat you responded to me when I kissed you,” he said, softly. “You are not disinclined towards me.”
“I have always promised myself that I would not marry without having, at the very least, some affection between myself and my betrothed,” Violet replied, refusing to be in the least affected by his words although she could not stop heat from caressing her cheeks. “I believe affection can lead to love and I will not enter into a loveless union. However, we hardly know one another.”
Lord Greville’s eyes met hers, his gaze never wavering. “You may not believe it, Lady Harrington, but I have a deep affection for you already, even on such a short acquaintance. You have a strong character and have your own mind, which are both attributes I greatly appreciate.”
"I am a bluestocking," she protested but saw no rebuke in his eyes.
“Which is even more wonderful,” he replied, calmly. “And, given the circumstances, I believe that we may have to be wed this very day.”
Violet blinked twice, her mind growing foggy with all that had occurred. “I – I beg your pardon?”
His smile widened. “You cannot be moved from here, my lady, not when you have such an injury and can barely lift your head. A special license will do it, I think.”
“Special license?” Violet echoed, struggling to think clearly. “They are quite difficult to pertain, my lord, and I do not believe that – ”
“I am sure I can convince them,” he interrupted, almost airily, as he stood. “I shall send the maids to prepare the bedchamber next to mine at once and I shall send a note to your mother and father as well. Never fear, my dear lady, you shall be resting in your new home very soon.”
8
Violet didn’t need to be told when her mother arrived.
She was soaking in the bath in her new bedchamber, the soot and blood being cleaned out of her hair by a lovely young maid who was trying to hide the excitement she felt at all that was going on in the Earl’s household.
Clue of Affection Page 5
