How to Be a Proper Lady

by Katharine Ashe

  The door clicked shut.

  “Go?” Viola’s cheeks paled. “Go, as in go over to Avesbury to buy yourself a new waistcoat that is not soaked in blood? Or go, as in go?”

  “It is time I leave here, Viola.”

  Her dark eyes swam with distress. “Setting aside for the moment that you said mere hours ago that you would not leave if I did not wish you to, tell me that you can beat a man to a bloody pulp, then feel comfortable saddling up your horse and riding off the very same day? You cannot be serious.”

  “He took a serving girl by force.”

  “I know that! I just heard the story from Jane, who heard it from the third upstairs maid, who heard it from the scullery maid, who heard it from Cook, who heard it from Mrs. Tubbs, who heard it from the poor girl herself. And do you know why it had to pass through so many people before I could hear it? Because everybody in this house except you believes I am a bloody virgin because that is all unmarried ladies in this society are.” Abruptly the hysteria seemed to slide from her, her shoulders sagging. “I’m sorry. I am upset. Everyone is upset. Aidan and his parents, and Serena of course, because she invited them thinking that I-”

  “You have a right to be upset. You have known Seamus many years.”

  She screwed up her brow. “When Aidan wasn’t looking, Seamus used to push me into corners and fondle my breasts-uninvited. Someone should take him out to a barn and give him more than a beating. For what he did to that girl he deserves to be castra-”

  “Don’t, Viola.”

  “Don’t what?” She stepped forward. “I regret that it was you who came upon them. I regret it for your sake. But Seamus Castle is a very bad man. I could never tell Aidan what I thought because they were always so close. But that family would be far better off washing their hands of him. Or better yet, sending him off to the navy where he could get a real education in misery.”

  “You know nothing of such misery.”

  Her eyes flickered. “What?”

  “You know nothing of it. Nothing.” He spoke quietly, a burning in his gut urging him on. “And you do not wish to. You never have. You kept your hands clean while Fionn and your crewmen ensured your safety.”

  “What?” She blinked. “What are you talking about? You have no idea what my father and crewmen have done.”

  “I spent a month aboard ship with men who have known you for years. Do you think I did not learn a thing or two about Violet Daly and her father?”

  Her eyes darted over him, twin red blotches staining her lovely cheeks. “What are you saying?”

  “Do you know that Fionn wanted you to return here? He did everything in his power to protect you from the harsh realities of his life and to return you to this life from which he had stolen you. Where you belong. But you-goddamned stubborn, quarrelsome woman-would not oblige him. Every time he threw opportunity before you, you refused it.”

  “You cannot know this. Who told you these lies?”

  “Not lies. Truth from men who were loyal to their captain to the moment of his death. He wanted what was best for you. They all did.”

  “If you stand here and try to tell me that I took so few prizes the past two years because my crew was bamboozling me, I swear if I can’t find my dirk I will find a prawn fork and stick you with it somewhere it will hurt you quite a lot.”

  “Your father made Castle promise that after he died he would wed you and bring you back to England. He believed that were you finally here again, you would voluntarily return to your family.”

  Her mouth dropped open. “He did not. That is positively ridiculous.”

  “I have a letter in my possession from your former quartermaster. Your father left him with instructions to tell Aidan the truth about your family once you were married, with the request that he encourage you to come back here. Is Mr. Crazy typically a liar, Viola?”

  “A letter? Why on earth would you have a letter from Crazy? What have you been doing, spying on me?”

  “It is one of my many talents,” he said, but it passed her by.

  “Crazy must have misunderstood. My father liked to invent stories. He was a sailor.” But she looked like she was struggling not to believe it. Behind her rich violet eyes he could nearly see her recalling the moments Fionn had encouraged her to return to England, and her willful choice to defy that. It sufficed for Jin. But driving her away was even more painful than he had anticipated. He could not have her, but he did not want to throw her into Aidan Castle’s arms either.

  “Did you know Aidan planned to return to England at this time?”

  Her brow drew down. “I thought he would stay in the Indies for a few more years. His decision to return here so soon after the fire surprised me.”

  “As much as it surprised him, I suspect.”

  “What are you saying?” Her eyes narrowed. “Did he tell you something? That day at the inn, after the fire, you both looked so peculiar when I came upon you. He told you something, didn’t he? And he kept it from me.”

  He could tell her the truth, but then he would not be able to leave her. He could barely leave her now. Carefully he fashioned the words to seal his fate.

  “Viola, I have lied to you since the moment we met. Yet still you trust me.”

  “I do not understand. You have not lied to me.”

  Her heart racketed and she was shaking, but he only met her gaze with that cool, steady glimmer of distance. Then he went through the door and was gone.

  For a moment, she stood absolutely still, stunned.

  She bolted from the room and grabbed a footman. “Which way did Mr. Seton go?”

  He pointed.

  She caught up with him as he descended the stairs to the drive empty of carriages now, the expanse of the Park’s sloping lawn mottled with trees and sheep. She ran through the puddles.

  “Don’t you dare imagine you can make cryptic statements, then turn around and walk away.”

  He halted. “I said nothing cryptic. But if it will help for me to repeat it, I have lied to you. A number of times. Is that plain enough?”

  She gripped her hands together so she would not grab him instead, rain falling between them.

  “It is plain. Now.” She bit down on her uncertainty. “But I don’t know that it matters.”

  “You don’t know,” he repeated. He passed his hand over his face and released a hard breath. “Viola, go back inside where you belong.”

  She shook from the cold rain on her arms and the certainty that this quarrel was not about Aidan or Fionn or her crew and ship. It was about this man and the life he had led and still wished to lead. A life that was truly unlike anything she had known, that frightened her a little bit. But he did not frighten her. He felt like a part of her.

  “This is because of Seamus, isn’t it? If I had seen him do that, Jin, I would have beaten him to a pulp too. That is, if I possessed the strength for it.”

  He came to her in a stride and stood so close she could trace each drop of rain on his jaw and lips with her hungry gaze.

  “Why did you challenge me with that wager on your ship, Viola? After fifteen years on the sea did you understand nothing of men like me? Did you not?”

  A fist clenched her heart. There were no other men like him. None.

  “I challenged you because-because I wanted to come home.” Her voice quavered. “Is that what you wish to hear? I missed it more than I could bear, even after so many years, though I tried to pretend I did not, and I longed for it.” As she had longed for him. She had believed she could not lose.

  But now she was losing again. The hunted light in his eyes told her that more clearly than anything had yet, and the violence he had done against Seamus earlier. This life was killing him. He could be a gentleman if he wished. His manner and education allowed it. But he would not choose this. And, even if she cast all this aside and went back to the sea, clearly he was not choosing her either.

  She backed away. “Why did you even return here if you knew you would only le
ave again? And don’t tell me it was to settle that debt with Alex, because you could have seen him in London.”

  “I returned here, Viola, because I could not stay away from you. Even now when I wish to be gone from here, when I have matters I must attend to elsewhere, you hold me here. You alone.” The manner in which he spoke these words was the least loverlike she had ever heard him. Instead, anger seemed to color them, attuned to the sharply glittering crystals of his eyes. Yet still her joints turned liquid.

  “At this particular moment you do not seem as though you wish to be where I am,” she managed to utter.

  He came to her, wrapped his hands around her arms, and bent his head.

  “I once believed you were insane. I was quite certain of it. But now I know, rather, that I am.” His voice was rough by her brow. “You are merely willfully naïve.”

  “I cannot imagine how you think that, when I know a great deal more of the world than any lady I have encountered in England.”

  “You do not understand why I am not the man for you. That makes you naïve. And impossible.”

  He wanted her, yet he did not want to want her. This was quite clear. Raw panic enveloped her, colder than the rain. This was truly the end.

  “So you are really leaving? At this moment? Now?”

  He released her and nodded.

  No. God, no. “From London? Is that where you have your ship berthed?”

  “Yes.”

  “London? All this time since we returned? That must be costing you a fortune. How on earth can you-?”

  “Viola.” He looked away, it seemed with impatience.

  “Where will you go?” She had lost. She had lost again. But this loss was beyond the greatest pain she had endured, beyond the cruelty of heartbreak during those first months in America, beyond the endless ache of loneliness. “To Boston, to your new ship? Or I suppose Malta.”

  “East.”

  “After you conclude your business there, you could return here.” Her tongue ran on its own, driven by desperation. “Or you could simply delay your journey a bit.” She was laying her heart open for him to stomp on again. She didn’t care. She could not let him go. “Serena and Alex were talking about having an open house at the Park soon, which from all I have heard seems to be a lark, although-”

  “Viola, stop.”

  Her lips snapped shut. He watched her distantly, like that day on her ship when her hope had been new and untested, when she had indeed been naïve enough to believe this man could love her.

  “Just say it.” She steadied her voice with the greatest effort. “You may as well. You look exactly as you did that day when you won the wager.” She needed to hear him say he did not love her. Of all things, she knew he would not lie to her about that.

  “My sentiments have not altered since then.” Just as on that day, it seemed difficult for him to tell her. He cared for her enough to pity her.

  Viola’s insides quivered, then simply melted into misery.

  “Well, I suppose you are entitled to your sentiments, whatever they are.” She squared her shoulders, but the gown pulled and the stays poked and she felt trapped and quite like she might begin to cry shortly, which would be categorically disastrous if she were still standing before him.

  “Well then, good-bye, Seton. I hope you have a nice life.” She thrust out her hand for him to shake. He did not move to take it.

  “Aidan Castle does not deserve you.”

  Viola swallowed over the foremast stuck in her throat. “As astounding as it may seem to you, Master Arrogance, I do not particularly care for your opinion on the matter.” This hurt beyond bearing. She pivoted, blinking back rising tears. “Bon voy-”

  He grasped her wrist and pulled her to a halt and lifted her fingers to his mouth.

  “Someday a man who deserves you will come around, Viola Carlyle.” His voice was low. “Do not settle for less.” He kissed her knuckles, then her brow. She gulped in the scent of him, his nearness and everything she dreamed of. He released her, then turned and strode toward the stable.

  Viola went inside the house, locked herself in her bedchamber, and wept tears enough to fill the Atlantic basin.

  Chapter 28

  With Jane’s starchy assistance Viola managed to make her puffy eyes and pale face look presentable enough to join her sister and the others the following morning for breakfast.

  “Is your megrim improved, Miss Carlyle?” Caitria asked kindly. “Lady Fiona and Lady Savege have worried about you. Mama and I too. And my brother, of course.”

  Viola glanced at Aidan across the dining room. He looked tired, but he offered her a tentative smile.

  Later, he found her alone in the library.

  “I suppose a rainy day calls for a good book and a pot of tea,” he said as he came toward her.

  She closed the volume she hadn’t read a word of in an hour and watched him take a seat on the chair beside hers. He was comfortable, decent, and she understood now finally why she had believed she loved him all those years; she’d needed a friend and hadn’t known what love truly was.

  “What are you reading?” He drew the book from her hands and flipped open the cover. “Virgil? Isn’t this Latin?”

  “Oh, is it?” She untucked her feet from beneath her and smoothed out her skirt. It was wrinkled, but she didn’t care.

  He set down the book and reached for her hand.

  “Viola, this is a terrible time for us all, with what Seamus did and how he is paying for it. I have asked Lady Savege’s pardon for bringing my cousin into her home, and she has been forgiving. But…”

  “But?” She didn’t care what he had come to say. Mostly she wished he would leave her to solitude. Somewhere about the house Lady Fiona and Madame Roche were teaching Caitria how to braid rushes in the French style, Lady Emily no doubt sitting nearby with a book making clever comments. Her sister would be in the nursery with the baby. But she only wanted to be alone to lick her wound that would never heal.

  His fingers tightened around hers. “Viola, Seamus will not be returning to the Indies with me. Nevertheless I must be on that boat when it leaves Bristol in six days. I want you to be with me. As my wife.”

  “You are asking me to marry you now? To be married now, finally, that is to say?”

  “I know it has been a long wait for us. But I have always known you would be my wife, Viola. Always.”

  She drew her hand away. “Aidan, why did you leave Trinidad two and a half months ago? I imagine it was difficult leaving the repairs and new building in another man’s hands. Honestly, it surprised me that so abruptly you decided to visit your family.”

  His eyes crinkled in a tender look. “You must know that I came here because I did not wish to be apart from you.”

  “After all those years of being apart, suddenly you could not tolerate it?” She frowned. “Did my father lend you the money for your farm on the condition that you would marry me and bring me back to England to live?”

  His face slackened.

  She stood, feet sore, heart sore, uncertain that any man could be trusted not to lie to her. They would all use her for their own purposes. Her father had used her for bait to win back his lover. The baron was now trying to use her to enliven the memory of that same woman. And Jin had used her for gain, and for pleasure. That she had wanted him to did not exonerate him. It only made her a tragic fool.

  “That day at the inn in Port of Spain before you apologized to me about kissing Miss Hat and assured me of your lasting devotion, Jin told you the truth about my family. My whole family. Didn’t he?”

  He came to his feet. “Violet, I have loved you since you were a girl, and yes, I promised Fionn to bring you to live in England, but I had no idea of your family then and I would have wed you still. What does it matter?” He gestured impatiently. “Marry me and let us put the past behind us now and make a new future together.”

  Her throat was thick but her eyes dry.

  “No, Aidan. I do not wish to
marry you. I am sorry to disappoint you, but I am not the same girl who followed you about deck ten years ago. I have changed.”

  “I see,” he finally said, brow pleated. “Then I have lost my opportunity. I acted too late.”

  She needn’t respond.

  “If you wish to be rid of me,” he said stiffly, “I can be on my way this afternoon. My parents and Caitria must remain until Seamus is well enough to travel. But I will go if you wish it.”

  “You needn’t.” In truth, she didn’t care where he was. He nodded reluctantly and left the library.

  But his stiffness persisted and she didn’t care about that either. After two days, she greeted with relief Serena’s suggestion that they all remove to town.

  “You will not miss Papa too much?”

  “A little. But, Ser, he is… clingy.”

  “Clingy? Is that another delightful Americanism?”

  “Aren’t you impressed with my accent lately? I sound fabulously English.” She attempted a smile, but Serena’s clever gaze studied her a bit too intently.

  She turned away. “When will we leave?”

  “Tuesday. Fiona and Emily and Madame Roche are no doubt eager to return to town as well. Tracy will come with us and we will make a party of it.”

  “It sounds delightful.”

  She watched Aidan ride off down the drive alone. He had gone sanguinely, in the end accepting her refusal with resignation. Despite his broken bones and raw wounds, Seamus refused to remain after his cousin left, and the Castle family departed.

  The following day five carriages laden with servants, gentlemen, ladies, and Viola started on their way to London. She had seen a little of the countryside during the rushed drive from Exmouth to Savege Park. Now they took the journey in slow stages, pausing at charming inns along the route and dining merrily each evening, all as if it were some sort of holiday. After the first day Viola managed to claim the carriage with Lady Emily each time, whose nose in her book and lack of conversation made the trip bearable.