by Jenna Jaxon
Tris headed for the brandy decanter, pleased it had been refilled. Thomas had promise as a butler if he had an eye for such details. After two healthy gulps, the excellent vintage managed to relieve some of the tension that had him tied in knots. He breathed slowly, stretching out the hand he had curled into a fist. Perfectly steady. That was a wonder. He wouldn’t have wagered a sixpence on it.
“I’m ready.” Violet appeared in the doorway, her black velvet cloak covering her from neck to floor. When she moved, however, the vivid blue silk of her new gown peeped out, giving an enticing glimpse of her full breasts.
Angelique was taking too much time with this order, damn it. He’d wanted Violet outfitted completely by the end of this week. Especially crucial as he’d had to abandon his first plan to find her employment. Between the holiday distractions and his reluctance to apply to any close friends or family who might know the circumstances of James Carlton’s death, he’d had no luck at all turning up a post for either a governess or companion. As a result, he’d had to contemplate another way to provide for Violet. This outing served a twofold purpose—to give her a much needed respite from the looming walls of her gilded cage, and to introduce her to the alternate plan of action. One he hated to consider, yet by far the best choice for her.
“You look stunning, my dear. Heads will turn, mark my words.”
“Ha. The sensible people have all returned to their comfortable estates for their Christmas revelry. There will be no one in the park to pay me a bit of mind.” She secured her hat to her head with a wicked-looking pin whose jeweled end glinted with small sapphires and diamonds.
Another most inappropriate gift from him, but he couldn’t help himself.
“I’ll wager you nonetheless. How about…” It was on the tip of his tongue to say “a kiss.’ Too dangerous by half.
“I know. A trip to the theatre,” Violet broke in, her eyes sparkling.
“Done. If you win, I will take you to Drury Lane next week. If I win, however…” He paused, staring at her lips and sighed. “If I win, I demand a musical performance in which you exhibit your great talents. Just for me.”
A charming blush tinted her cheeks and she smiled. “Very well, it is a wager.” She leaned forward, hand outstretched as if for a handshake. At the last second she glanced at his face and abruptly withdrew it.
It was as well. Much as he desired her touch, he could only stand so much skin-to-skin contact. “Let us go, my dear. The park awaits.” He offered his arm, praying the clothing between them would act as a sufficient shield.
Once seated in his phaeton, he drew a lap robe over her and gathered the ribbons. The high perch allowed them to look down on the world, a vantage point he had always secretly enjoyed. Hyde Park was a little distance from Lammas House, but they should arrive in good time to meet some of the fashionable set.
Violet sat on the edge of the seat, her neck constantly craning to catch the sights of London as they sped by. The sun glinted on the stands of her chestnut hair, turning them as gold as the autumn leaves that lingered on the ground here and there. She raised her chin and laughed as the cool air brought roses to her cheeks.
Tris swallowed hard, her beauty overwhelming him once more. Pray God others saw it as well.
“Thank you so much for this lovely treat,” she said, tucking the robe more securely around her as they approached the park entrance. “I confess I’ve longed for just a bit of adventure this past week. This outing is a blessing.”
“I’m very happy to oblige you, my dear.” Tris turned the horses onto the well-used lane. In the distance, several carriages headed toward them. Perhaps his scheme would work after all. “Excellent luck.” He nodded at the approaching vehicles. “I’m hoping to introduce you to some of my acquaintances this afternoon.”
“You are?” She peered at him, eyebrows raised. “You’ve made me remain secluded at the house, forbidden to stick my nose outside the door because you feared someone would associate me with you, yet now you want to introduce me?” A frown darkened her features. “What is really going on, Tris?”
“I’ve come to the conclusion that the best possibility for your future would be a good marriage.” He kept his eyes on the horses’ heads, but heard a sharp gasp. “You yourself said you had been seeking marriage this past summer. We will merely be renewing that search. With the Christmas round of holiday parties at hand, we can reintroduce you into Society. And a good first step is to meet people in a public arena, like Hyde Park.”
“Indeed.” The single word dripped frost. “So you have decided I should marry. Did you not think it necessary to consult me on the matter?”
Afraid to look at her, Tris could nevertheless feel her eyes boring into him. He put on his best face and turned to her. “I am consulting you now, Violet. I have thought it through many times, but I do not see a better solution at present.”
She slid well back in the seat, and her excitement vanished.
He slowed the horses. Better to have privacy for this conversation. “You know I have scoured London, written a sheaf of letters to out-of-town acquaintances, and still I have nothing to report. There appears to be a dearth of positions at the moment. These things seem to run in cycles. A month from now I’ll have ten people requesting a companion. But a month from now won’t do, I’m afraid.”
“Your approaching nuptials, I assume.” Her chest heaved as she tucked the robe up under her chin.
“Yes.” What else could he say if he would be honest with her? “It may well be your best chance for a happy life, my dear.” At least one of them might have a chance. He gripped the ribbons until his knuckles ached. Still he had no options left. Lord Downing had set the wedding day for early in the new year. Scarcely a month from today. Violet must be settled in her new life before his husbandly duties called him elsewhere. Before someone discovered he had been keeping her like his other mistresses.
She sat biting her lip. Then she sighed deeply and nodded. “Very well, my lord. If that is our only choice, then by all means, let us resume the hunt.”
Her resignation squeezed his heart but he ignored it. It was better for them both thus.
“You realize it still will not be easy, Tris? I’ve no dowry, no connections, and a scandal attached to my name. What prospects do you think will magically appear? They certainly did not exist last summer.”
“Leave such worries to me. Simply be your charming self and I will take care of the rest.” Ah, here was a blessing indeed. Lord Donningham and his sister sat in a carriage at the end of the path. As good a start as any.
The viscount had been widowed for almost a year now, and Tris’s sources told him he’d been avidly searching for a new wife at the end of last Season. The man had no vices to speak of, although he certainly wasn’t good enough for Violet. Would anyone ever be?
Tris drew his carriage nigh and hailed them. “Lord Donningham, Miss Tate. I see you are enjoying this glorious afternoon. It seems to have brought many out of hiding.”
“Trevor.” The man nodded to him, but his attention fastened immediately on Violet, his appraising glance undisguised.
Fury seared Tris and he clenched his jaw so tight it ached. The rack would be more merciful a torture than Donningham’s scrutiny.
“How splendid to see you again, Lord Trevor,” Miss Tate cooed in dulcet tones, telling him she’d obviously not heard of his betrothal.
“Delighted as well, Miss Tate. Miss Carlton, may I make known to you Lord Donningham and his sister, Miss Tate.”
“So pleased to meet you, Miss Tate.” Violet nodded, then batted her eyes at the viscount. “My lord.”
Well, she’d certainly not be a shy violet. “Miss Carlton is in town for the holidays. An old friend of the family who I am escorting about.”
“Excellent, Miss Carlton,” Donningham said, so eagerly he could scarcely get the words out. “You must give me a dance at the next ball you attend.”
Gads, the
man wasted no time a’tall. Tris fought the urge to rail at him. Such interest was what he desired for Violet. Damn it, he must let his feelings go. He’d not expected it would twist his heart this badly, though.
“It would be my pleasure, my lord.” Violet flushed becomingly, her cheeks the perfect rosy shade to attract a man. She played her role extremely well.
“Do we know which entertainment we will be at next, my lord?” Gaily, she leaned toward Tris, a sickeningly sweet smile on her face.
Enjoying his discomfort, by God. “I believe the Braeton’s Christmas party on the fifteenth is the next one, my dear.” Then, to Miss Tate, “Miss Carlton is a particular friend of Miss Forsythe.” He might as well build up Violet’s reputation when he could. A connection with the red-haired heiress would be good cachet for her.
“Oh, wonderful,” Miss Tate broke in, suddenly more animated. “We will be attending as well.” Arching her neck, she smiled at Tris, her interest too obvious. She’d partnered Tris several times over the summer and he’d found her amiable enough, but clingy. At the last ball he’d attended he’d steered clear of her. Now of course, she’d expect him to offer for one of her dances as well.
“I would ask you for a dance, Miss Tate, but I must consult my betrothed first as to which dances she prefers me reserve for her.”
Miss Tate’s smile froze. “Of course, my lord. I…I didn’t know you were to be married.” She glanced at her brother, whose face had suddenly gone sour. “Allow me to wish you happy.”
“Thank you. Miss Harper and I suit very well. Still, I will make sure we have that dance, Miss Tate.”
“Miss Harper? You’re engaged to Lord Downing’s daughter?” Donningham’s features relaxed. “Capital, Trevor. My felicitations as well.” Grinning at Violet, he puffed out his chest. “I must have the first dance, Miss Carlton. I would not be able to stand looking on if you partnered another man first.”
In his scarlet waistcoat and jacket, Donningham reminded Tris of a male bird with mating plumage in full display.
“Then I will make no demur, my lord. I look forward to our dance with anticipation.” Violet cast her gaze down shyly.
By God, she played the game well. Had she possessed a dowry, she’d have been married long ago.
“I fear we must press on, my dear.” He leaned over and patted her hand. “We must return before dark and the light goes so early this time of year.” Tris inclined his head, relieved to take his leave. “Donningham, Miss Tate.”
“It was such a pleasure to meet you, Miss Tate. Lord Donningham. I do look forward to seeing you again.” Violet nodded to them.
Almost before they’d finished speaking, Tris had urged the team back onto the path that circled the park. The carriage had scarcely gotten out of earshot of Donningham’s carriage when she turned to him.
“That went rather well, don’t you think?”
“Lord Donningham certainly seemed taken with you.” Refusing to look at her, Tris snapped the ribbons and the horses picked up their pace.
“He was still in mourning when I was out last summer or I daresay we’d have met already. I am surprised I didn’t meet his sister, though.” Violet cocked her head. “And I hardly think asking for a dance qualifies as being ‘taken with me.’ I will admit, however, I was rather flattered. He’s very handsome.”
Tris grunted. Damn Donningham.
She laughed and drew the lap robe close up over her shoulders. “Brrr. It has gotten quite chilly.” A sly glance at him and she smiled. “I suppose we should go home, then. We seem to have accomplished what you wanted.”
“What I wanted?” Tris almost yelped, then sighed and got himself in hand. “Yes, I believe we have. Home it is.” He compelled the horses on and they completed their circuit of the park at a fast trot. At least he’d made a step toward finding a suitable marriage for Violet. Of course, watching her dance and flirt with Donningham and others would be difficult, but he’d manage. Beginning anything unpleasant was always rough on a chap. Still it was necessary.
Their return to Lammas House proved uneventful. Tris gave Thomas their cloaks as they entered.
“Allow me to repair my appearance before dinner, Tris. I’m terribly windblown.” She dashed up the stairs, her feet pounding softly.
“Everything is in place?” Tris spoke quietly to the butler.
Thomas nodded. “Just as you wished, my lord.”
“Excellent. You have the light supper ready?”
“Yes, my lord. Mrs. Parker is keeping it hot.”
Violet reappeared and raced down the stairs, her skirts swirling around her. “High-perch phaetons are not conducive to stylish or even neat hair. What is wrong?” She stopped on the last step, her gaze riveted to his face.
“Not one thing, my dear. You are a vision of loveliness, phaeton or no. Come, I have a surprise for you. Close your eyes.”
She narrowed them instead and approached him warily. “Am I going to like this surprise?”
“I believe so. It will assist you in paying your forfeit. You must admit, you did turn heads.” He extended his hand to her.
“One head,” she conceded, placing her hand in his.
“One was enough. Close your eyes,” he said, leading her to the door of the music room. Letting her go, he wrapped his hands over her shoulders where the gown ended and her soft, white skin began. He positioned her at the threshold of the door. “Step inside, please. And no peeking.” This close to her all he need do was take a breath and her sweet jasmine scent filled his head.
She giggled, nervous tension flowing through her into him as he guided her into the room, alight with candles that flickered and danced along the walls and spilled from the crystal chandelier.
“Open your eyes, Violet,” he whispered, still clutching her shoulders, not wanting to let go.
Her eyes flew open, blinked, and then her gaze fell on the golden harp, placed beside the spinet. She stiffened, gasped, and raised her hand to grip his.
Then she tore across the polished wood floor to the gleaming instrument, her eyes wide. Mouth agape, she stared at it. Reverently, she lifted her hand to touch the strings, sending a soft discord through the still air.
The hunger in her eyes sent a burst of happiness through him, as if that look had been for him.
Her gaze shifted to him, the longing to run to him transparent on her face.
“Oh, Tris.”
The catch in her voice melted his heart. If he must torture himself, let it be at her hands.
“I don’t know what to say.” She caressed the golden wood and he shivered, feeling her touch on his skin.
“Be happy, Violet,” he said, and gathering the pieces of his shattered heart, turned and left.
Chapter 10
The Braetons’ ballroom shone almost as bright as day with the light of at least three hundred candles. Their soft glow bathed Violet in a radiance she found she had sorely missed. Never take for granted what you have today. She should have understood that last summer, the last time she had danced in this elegantly appointed room. Violet sighed, drinking in the beauty of the green and gold leaf paper that glittered on the walls. Gilt sconces at intervals along the wall reflected the candles’ light as well. The cut-crystal chandeliers overhead swayed slightly, casting shadows over the dancers and seeming to keep time to the music.
“You are enjoying yourself tonight, Miss Carlton?” Lord Donningham spoke loudly to be heard over the lively music of the allemande.
Even leaning toward him slightly, Violet still had to strain to hear everything the man said. He had a thin, quiet voice. “I am, my lord, although you must ask me later in the evening. This is only the first dance.” Affecting a carefree air, she laughed as she swept under his arm in the first figure of the dance. Both playing and dancing had always been a treat for her. As this evening marked her return to society, she was especially determined to enjoy herself.
“Oh, you will not need furthe
r inducements, my dear. I shall seek you out for another dance before the evening grows too old.” His lordship took advantage of the moment he had to spin her around to glide his hand along her waist.
Her practiced smile in place, Violet sighed inwardly, hoping his interest ran deeper than mere flirtation. She wanted desperately to marry and leave Lammas House. The past week had proven to her just how unpleasant the pleasant house could be when she sensed she no longer belonged there.
After giving her the exquisite harp, Tristan had walked out without another word. She had neither seen nor heard from him since, save for a curt note to the butler instructing Susan and Thomas to accompany Violet to the Braeton’s ball. No word of whether Tris was to attend or not. Exceedingly awkward if he did not, for she’d be unaccompanied by ton standards.
“I beg pardon, my lord?” Violet had caught the end of a remark from Donningham. Best not to brood over one man while trying to entrance another.
“I said we seem well-suited, Miss Carlton. Although you are charmingly petite, my limbs are long, therefore we dance well together.” He smiled showing very white teeth as he ducked under their clasped hands.
A pleasant man in all respects. She’d pressed Susan for any information she had on Lord Donningham and the maid had proven herself resourceful in gathering a wealth of intelligence. John, sixth Viscount Donningham, had lost his wife and infant son to childbed fever in March of this year. From Susan’s source, the couple had been fond and Donningham truly mourned his wife’s death. However, because he was in his middle thirties, the practical man had realized he had no time to waste finding another helpmeet. According to Susan’s source—Donningham’s valet, Susan’s cousin’s son—the viscount was a sober gentleman, given to few vices, and a considerate master. All sterling qualities for a husband, if a trifle dull.
