by Anna Bradley
Iris hurried to their grandmother’s side to soothe her while Hyacinth dug in Lady Chase’s reticule for her smelling salts, but Finn remained where he was, his puzzled gaze fixed on Violet. “Courting you? No, Violet, there must be more to it than that.”
Violet darted a glance at Lord Dare, but his frozen expression offered no encouragement. “There is more. Lord Dare was introduced to Hyacinth at Lord and Lady Derrick’s dinner party several weeks ago. He and I weren’t introduced, but we nevertheless had a brief conversation at the end of that evening, after Hyacinth left. He met us each separately, you see, and he confused one of us for the other, as so often happens with fashionable gentlemen.”
She was unable to resist this last little dig, which really was unforgiveable of her since this entire disaster of a courtship was all her fault, but the petty part of her whispered none of this would have happened if Lord Dare had been paying the least bit of attention.
“For pity’s sake, Nicholas,” Lady Westcott said in exasperation. “You couldn’t tell one young lady from the other? I was under the impression I’d raised a gentleman.”
“Well, look at the two of them, would you?” Lord Dare waved a hand from Hyacinth to Violet. “If it weren’t for their eyes, they’d be indistinguishable from each other.”
Lady Chase had fallen into a determined half-swoon against the settee, but she raised her head at this and fixed Lord Dare with a sharp look. “What do you mean, Lord Dare? They both have their mother’s identical dark blue eyes.”
“No, they don’t. That is, they’ve both got dark blue eyes, but that Miss Somerset,”—he pointed at Hyacinth, who froze when every eye turned toward her.—“Her eyes are soft and gentle, whereas this Miss Somerset’s eyes are…” He still had Violet by the shoulders, and he looked down into her eyes. “Well, one only has to look into her eyes to see she’ll cause no end of trouble.”
A curious look drifted over Lady Chase’s face as she considered this. “How remarkable,” she murmured, her shrewd gaze fixed on Violet and Lord Dare. “I believe you’re right, my lord.”
“Let me see if I understand you.” Finn, who was still dissatisfied with this explanation, gave Violet his sternest, most Marquess-like look. “Lord Dare has been courting you for two weeks, thinking you were Hyacinth?”
“Yes. I—it was wrong of me, I know. I never intended to let it get so far, but I…well, I beg your pardon, Lord Dare, though I know an apology isn’t enough to excuse me.”
“No, it is not enough, miss.” Hyacinth was fanning Lady Chase, but the old woman slapped her hand away and struggled upright against the settee. “What reason could you have to trick Lord Dare with such an egregious falsehood?”
Violet, Iris, and Hyacinth glanced guiltily at each other, but it was Lord Dare who answered. “Her book, my lady. She wanted to take some sketches, but several of them took her to parts of London that are unacceptable for proper young ladies.” He shot Violet an accusing look. “I happened along just at the right time to serve as an escort.”
As soon as Lord Dare uttered the word “book,” Lady Chase’s face began to redden with anger, and by the time he’d finished, her better judgment had fallen victim to her temper. “That book again! I don’t even know why I bothered to ask, since that book is invariably the reason behind all of Violet’s most reprehensible behavior.”
“What book?” Lady Westcott glanced from one Somerset sister to the next. “What’s it about?”
“Oh, it’s terribly clever, Lady Westcott. It’s called A Treatise on London for Bluestockings. Or is it ‘for Adventuresses’ now, Violet?” Iris shot Violet a questioning look. “She keeps adding chapters to it, you see, and so the title keeps changing.”
Lord Dare let out a grim laugh. “You’re quite right, Lady Huntington. In fact, I suspect she added another chapter just recently, all about how to arouse a gentleman into attempting a seduction. Miss Somerset is quite protective of her book—she doesn’t like anyone to read it—but I’ll have to insist on reading that chapter. She can hardly refuse, since she wouldn’t have been able to write it at all if she hadn’t had my help.”
An appalled silence followed this statement, then a small, choked sound escaped Violet’s lips, but her whimper was drowned out by Lady Chase’s piercing shriek. “A gentleman’s arousal! Oh, dear God, Violet. You’re ruined!”
“No, I’m not! Of course I’m not!” Violet’s frantic gaze swept the room to find every mouth dropped open in horror, and she stumbled into a breathless explanation before panic rendered her incoherent. “At one point I considered adding a chapter about resisting a rake’s seduction, but I didn’t—”
“But you didn’t resist, did you, Miss Somerset?”
Violet gaped at Lord Dare, but he only stared back at her, his face wiped of all expression. “I—I’m not…we didn’t…”
She groped for the back of a settee with a trembling hand as the room tilted crazily.
Dear God, she was going to swoon. Again.
Lord Dare leapt toward her as she began to sway, but before he could touch her Lady Westcott grasped her hand and tugged Violet down beside her onto the settee. She didn’t spare Violet a glance, however. Her gaze was fixed on Lord Huntington, her face white.
“Have you compromised my sister-in-law, Dare?” Finn’s voice was low and calm, but it swelled with such stark menace a shudder ran down Violet’s spine.
But Lord Dare never flinched. He met Finn’s gaze head on. “Yes.”
Finn didn’t move, but every inch of his body went rigid, and the air around him snapped and hummed with suppressed fury. “Then I’ll see you tomorrow morning at dawn.”
Violet’s heart dropped to her stomach with a sudden, sickening lurch. “No!”
Iris and Lady Westcott both rose to their feet with cries of dismay, but Lord Dare raised a hand for quiet, and silence fell over the room.
“There’s no need for that, Huntington. I’ve compromised her, and I intend to marry her.”
Finn stared at Lord Dare for a long moment, taking his measure, then he blew out a breath, and nodded once. “At once, by special license, so we can have the business finished well before the ton comes back to town and gets wind of it.”
Violet sat motionless on the settee, mute with shock, and listened in horror as the two men casually arranged the rest of her life as if they were tossing dice about on a hazard table.
She struggled to open her mouth, to speak, to argue with them, to say something—anything—but all that emerged was a faint whisper. “No.”
No one paid her any attention.
“We’ll have it at Lady Chase’s house in Bedford Square,” Finn said. “Before the end of the week, if possible.”
Lord Dare nodded. “I’ll get the special license tomorrow. Once we’re wed I wish to retire to my country seat in West Sussex. We’ll remain there throughout the winter.”
Violet tried again. “No.”
One tiny word, no more than a breath, and again, no one heard her.
Lady Chase, who seemed to have suddenly realized the granddaughter who’d sworn she’d die a spinster was on the verge of becoming a countess, quickly recovered from her swoon. “We’ll have a wedding breakfast, of course. If it’s to be done, we’ll do what we can to see it’s done right. If word gets about it was rushed, the ton will gossip.”
Iris and Hyacinth turned to Violet, their faces stricken. She met their gazes and began to shake her head, and once she started, she found she couldn’t stop. “No.”
Hyacinth rose unsteadily to her feet. “Violet—”
“No.”
She couldn’t marry Lord Dare. She’d lied to him, used and deceived him, and when he looked at her now, his gray eyes were cold, so cold.
Those cold gray eyes will break my heart…
Violet rose now, too, though her knees still threatened to collapse bene
ath her. “No. I-I beg your pardon, my lord, but I can’t…I won’t marry you.”
Lord Dare’s icy gaze swept over her, and there wasn’t a shadow of understanding or empathy in his face. “I’m afraid I’ll have to insist, Miss Somerset. I don’t intend to be put to the trouble of embarking on a new courtship because of your deception, and it’s only a name, after all. Hyacinth or Violet—what difference does it make? You’re the lady I’ve been courting. You’re the lady I compromised, and you’re the lady I’ll marry.”
Every word he spoke was like another blow. The chasm in Violet’s chest opened until she thought she might be sucked into the gaping hole and disappear into the abyss. “No—”
He seized her arms in a merciless grasp. “Yes. Need I remind you, Miss Somerset, that you’ve involved your younger sister in your deception? If I choose to make this matter known to the ton, it won’t only be your reputation that’s ruined, but hers as well. I’m certain you don’t wish her to suffer for your foolishness.”
Violet jerked her gaze to Hyacinth.
Her youngest sister, the baby of the family. Hyacinth had always been more fragile than the rest of them, the one who could never sway or bend—the only one of the five sisters who seemed forever on the verge of breaking. Yet everything about her was kind and pure, natural and true, and she deserved only good things.
She’s our family’s dearest treasure…
Hyacinth was shaking her head, her eyes pleading with Violet, but it was too late. It was already done. “No, I…you’re quite right, Lord Dare. I don’t wish for that. I—I accept your proposal.”
“Then I’m the happiest of men.” He took her hand and brushed his lips over her glove, but the gesture was perfunctory, and his face was blank.
And that was it. It hadn’t even taken an hour, but Violet’s fate had been decided. Whether she wanted it or not, in less than a week’s time she’d marry a man she hardly knew, and become the Countess of Dare.
Chapter Sixteen
Violet’s sisters did all they could to introduce a note of gaiety to the occasion, but despite their best efforts, the wedding was a grim affair.
Violet was numb and quiet, her bridegroom severe and unsmiling. Lady Westcott listened with sober attention as her nephew uttered his vows, and Hyacinth looked as if she were about to succumb to floods of tears at every moment. The only one who appeared well pleased with the proceedings was Lady Chase, and even there it was difficult to tell, as she took to her smelling salts partway through the ceremony, and never lifted them from her nose again until it was finished.
Then there was the wedding breakfast to get through. It was nearly over when Delia, Lady Carlisle and the eldest Somerset sister, nudged Mrs. Lily Sutherland, the second-eldest, and tilted her chin toward the staircase. Lily understood at once and prodded Hyacinth, who tapped Iris’s shoulder and gave her a meaningful raise of the eyebrows.
Iris shot to her feet, caught Violet by the arm, and offered a gracious smile to the rest of the company. “Please do excuse us. We’ll just take Lady Dare upstairs and ready her for her journey to West Sussex.”
Once they reached Violet’s bedchamber, Lily closed the door and folded Violet into her arms. When she drew away, her lips were curved in a determined smile. “Well, Violet, that was just…lovely.”
“Lovely!” Iris, who’d thrown herself onto the bed in a full sprawl the moment they entered the room, struggled up onto her elbows to glower at Lily. “For pity’s sake, Lily. I’ve attended funerals more joyous than that.”
“Hush, will you, Iris?” Hyacinth hurried across the room to Violet, who was staring at herself in the dressing-table mirror with a lost expression. “Lily’s right. It was a perfectly lovely wedding.” She wrapped an arm around Violet’s shoulders. “Lord Dare is so handsome, and I’ve never seen you look lovelier, Violet.”
Violet gazed at her reflection without answering.
She did look lovely, in her silver tissue gown with the puffed Belgian lace sleeves and the tiny embroidered violets scattered about the bodice and hem. Her sisters had insisted on dressing her hair themselves, and they’d taken great care to weave handfuls of dark purple violets into her heavy curls in a graceful, artistic manner.
She did look lovely. Lovely, and unlike herself.
But then she wasn’t herself anymore, was she? She was the Countess of Dare now, wife to a man who’d had to force himself to look at her when he’d said his vows this morning.
She loved him. Dear God, she loved him, and he didn’t love her, and she was terrified.
“What do I…I don’t know what I’m supposed to do now.”
Even her voice sounded strange, so dazed and forlorn, so unlike the Violet she’d been a fortnight ago, when she’d been so certain no one would be hurt by her deception.
“Oh, my dear.” Delia crossed the room and urged Violet to sit in the chair in front of the dressing-table. “It looks rather grim now, I confess, but it will sort itself out, I promise you.”
“Of course it will.” Lily knelt to take both of Violet’s hands in hers. “It’s not the courtship that matters, but the marriage. It will come right in the end. You’ll see.”
“Courtships are dreadful things. You witnessed my courtship with Finn, Violet—it was an utter misery, but you see how happy we are now.” Iris rose from the bed to press her cheek against Violet’s, smiling at her in the mirror.
“They are dreadful, aren’t they? Robyn’s idea of a proper courtship was to risk taking a ball between his eyes in a duel.” Lily shook her head. “Once I was certain he was safe, I nearly shot him myself.”
Delia laughed. “Alec was no better. He chased me on horseback from London halfway to Surrey in the midst of a dreadful downpour. By the time he caught up to me at last and dragged me from the carriage he was covered in mud, and utterly furious. I thought he was a highwayman! Come to think of it, I hoped he was a highwayman. A villain with a pistol would have been easier to manage than Alec at that moment.”
“Gentlemen are impossible when they’re in love, especially possessive, imperious gentlemen, which seem, alas, to be the sort of gentlemen the Somerset ladies are fated to fall in love with. Indeed, each one of our successive husbands is more high-handed than the last.” Iris gave Hyacinth a sly grin. “Well, my dear, I wish you luck with that.”
“I daresay you’re right.” Violet forced herself to smile at her sisters, but inside her chest her heart was sinking. Her elder sisters’ courtships hadn’t been smooth, no, but they were nothing like her situation with Lord Dare. Alec, Robyn, and Finn were in love with her sisters, and had been from the start, before the duel, and before the carriage chase.
Lord Dare didn’t love her. Why should he? She was a bluestocking who’d been destined for spinsterhood. She wasn’t suited to be a wife, especially not the wife of a man like him, who could have had London’s most celebrated belle for the asking. She’d only become Lady Dare because she’d cheated fate with a lie.
He didn’t love her, and now her heart was his to break.
“All you can do now is beg Lord Dare’s pardon, Violet.” Delia rested a cool palm against her cheek. “Once you’ve done that, simply take every day as it comes. Lord Dare can’t hold a grudge forever, after all, and I’m certain you’ll find a way to make it up to him.”
“Oh, yes. I can think of any number of ways she could do so, particularly in the bedchamber.” Iris’s lips quirked in a grin. “For example, she could try—”
“Iris! For pity’s sake!” Delia tilted her head toward Hyacinth. “Do we need to have this discussion now?”
“I don’t see why not. Hyacinth’s bound to end up with the most demanding husband of us all, so she’ll have to hear it sooner or later. But not to worry, Hyacinth.” Iris squeezed her youngest sister’s hand. “I have some books for you to read that will explain all you need to know about the bedchamber.”
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br /> Hyacinth’s face went pink. “Yes, ah…well, perhaps another time, as I’m certain Lord Dare is anxious to set off for West Sussex. Fetch Violet’s traveling dress, won’t you, Iris? And her cloak as well, Delia? Lily, will you run to the attic and see that Violet hasn’t left any of her papers there? I’ll help Violet out of her gown.”
Once their three elder sisters were gone, Hyacinth stepped behind Violet and began to loosen her buttons, and their eyes met in the mirror. “I should never have agreed to deceive Lord Dare, Violet. I knew it was wrong, but I went along with it instead of stopping you as I should have, because I was afraid of…” Hyacinth blew out a breath. “I don’t even know what I was afraid of, but I seem to always be afraid of something, and look what’s come of my cowardice this time.”
Violet spun on her chair, wrapped her arms around her sister’s waist, and laid her head against Hyacinth’s stomach. “You’re not a coward, and this isn’t your fault. You tried to dissuade me from my foolish scheme, but I wouldn’t listen, and now here we are.”
Hyacinth shook her head, but she didn’t argue. She only sighed and stroked Violet’s hair.
“I’m sure it won’t be as awful as I imagine.” Violet turned to face the mirror again, her eyes pleading, and it occurred to her she was trying to convince herself. “Lord Dare isn’t a wicked man, or an ill-tempered one. Indeed, in the short time I’ve known him, he’s been…”
Everything an honorable gentleman should be.
“He’s kind, Hyacinth. Perhaps it’s not the first thing one notices about him, but he has kindness in his heart.” Violet looked down at her hands as a familiar dry ache pressed behind her eyes. He’d been kind to her, and she’d offered him nothing but lies and betrayal in return.
“Then he’ll be a kind husband, won’t he?” Hyacinth settled her hands on Violet’s shoulders until her sister met her gaze in the mirror. “Promise me something, Violet. You don’t…” Hyacinth drew in a breath. “You don’t always have to be brave. If he isn’t kind, or if he unintentionally hurts your feelings, you must let him know it, or else he won’t know not to do it again.”
