CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
A sense of loss overcame her when Brock’s warm hand dropped from her chin. She wanted to tell him everything: about Connor’s deception, her work with the children, and most of all, her regret and pain over all she’d put him and his family through. She couldn’t change anything about her past, though. But she wanted to do something, anything, to again bring him close to her.
Could it be possible her father was correct? Did she crave the love and companionship only a man—a husband—could provide?
Her body told her yes.
Her heart screamed it.
But her mind was not so sure.
His brown eyes, so dark she was lost in their depths, drew her in. She wanted to trust him, believe they could put their past behind them. How, she did not know, but she longed to try.
Vi sighed. It was now or never. “I have spent these last seven years making amends for the grief I caused your family,” she uttered, so low she was unsure he heard her.
His brow drew together and closed off the view to his soul. “Is that what you were doing with those injured children?”
“Yes—”
“Have you been coming to London all these years?”
She was uncertain what she expected him to say or how he would react, but this was not it. “No, I entrusted Connor—”
He leaned away. For a moment, she feared he would move back to his own seat. “You do not trust that scoundrel, do you?”
At his question, she felt the betrayal of the past few days return. “Only a short time ago, I would have said I trusted him with my life . . . but no more.” She averted her eyes. She’d been a fool, and now it was time to admit it to him. “I am sorry for blaming you for feeding gossip to the ton. I know it was not you.”
He lifted her chin. For a moment, their eyes held. She found it hard to breathe, her heart taking wing in her chest. And then, at last, he touched his lips to hers. It wasn't the eager kiss they’d shared all those weeks ago. No, this was a kiss of forgiveness—of mending wounds left too long untended.
The soft insistence of his lips captivated her own, tempting them into parting, allowing his tongue entrance. She knew she had unwittingly allowed him into her heart, as well. The secrets, the lies, and the hurt… None of it mattered when she was in his arms. Dare she dream that none of it would matter to him, either?
Her hands lifted to pull him closer, moving of their own accord, more insistent, her lips now urging him on.
Not to be outdone, his own hands moved up the side of her corseted dress until they grazed her bodice. A moan escaped her parted lips. Suddenly it didn’t matter who she was, who he was, or what society thought of either of them.
His thumb stroked her nipple through the fabric of her dress and his tongue matched its rhythm, pushing in and retreating. Her back arched and he took the movement as encouragement. His fingers pulled the bodice of her dress down and exposed her breast. The cool air in the carriage swept across her bare beast and her nipple hardened into a tight bud.
A deep chuckle escaped his mouth as he trailed kisses down her neck, over her collarbone, and finally to her exposed breast. This was what she had been missing—
“What in the bloody hell are you doing?! Unhand my daughter at once.”
Her father’s voice was miles away. She didn’t want him to intrude, to end her time in Brock’s arms. Her grasp tightened around him, moving up his back and locking in his hair.
“Viola, unhand this young man!”
Oh—Now her father realized Brock could not possibly be taking advantage of her, so it must be his daughter in the wrong, instigating the compromising situation. Thankfully, her back faced the door and her father would not see her exposed breast. She grasped Brock’s hand in her own and deepened the kiss, knowing it would not last much longer—-and then it was not guaranteed she would ever be in his arms again.
He moved between them to shift her bodice back into place. Just as quickly, he disentangled her hands from his hair and returned them to her lap with a quick squeeze before letting them go.
“That is better. Now, Viola, you come out of this carriage at once. What will the servants think? See you out here like a common hussy in Cheapside.” The carriage groaned as her father stepped down.
She couldn’t turn to face him, to see the disappointment in his eyes once again, although she feared raising her face to meet Brock’s, either. What would she see there? Disgust, disdain, repulsion.
“Are you listening to me, young lady?”
Suddenly, she was a child again caught pilfering her father’s favorite sweets. Vi shored her courage and prepared to face her father’s wrath. She straightened her shoulders and Brock laughed.
A loud, deep chuckle that echoed in the small carriage.
Slowly, her eyes met his. There was no aversion, trepidation, or distaste. What she did see looking back at her made tears spring to her own eyes.
Joy, acceptance, and admiration stared back at her.
“Here, take this,” Brock said, and pressed a folded piece of paper into her hand.
She closed her fingers around the worn paper. “What—?”
“Viola, do come out at once!” her father’s angry tone drifted into the carriage.
Brock laughed again. “Open it later. You will understand, I promise. Now go. I will see you soon, I am sure.”
She turned then, taking her father’s outstretched hand as she departed the carriage.
“Young man, I expect to see you on the morrow.”
“Of course, my lord,” Brock called as his carriage pulled away from her father’s home.
Vi tucked the paper into the pocket hidden in her skirt and marched up the front stairs, her father only a few steps behind. She didn’t wait for the scolding she knew was coming, but rushed to her room. As soon as she slammed the door, she withdrew the paper from her pocket.
As she unfolded it, she realized it was two pieces of paper. One was written in Brock’s bold handwriting; the second was a list of some sort. She set Brock’s note aside.
She unfolded the second piece of paper and studied the words. Every one of her clients, past and present, including purchase details and estate locations, were listed in Connor’s hurried hand.
Next, she retrieved the note accompanying the list.
It simply read, “This was taken from you. Allow me to extend my deepest apologies for the wrong done to you and your livelihood by the scoundrel who called himself a man. You will not have cause to fear this type of treachery in the future. I have handled the situation in a manner best fitting the misdeed.”
The note was signed with only a B.
Vi smirked. “I guess he was able to give his apology after all,” she whispered.
EPILOGUE
The reflection staring back at Vi was one of contentment—and unbelievable happiness. The last month had passed in a haze of euphoria and disbelief. The euphoria was thanks to the love she saw in Brock’s eyes every time he looked at her; the happiness in her father’s demeanor at these recent developments. The disbelief stemmed from the very notion that Brock could feel affection for her after all they had been through. He loved her despite the pain she had inflicted on his family.
She smiled and turned from the looking glass and makeshift dressing room that had once been her office. The room was different now. She was different.
A crown of fresh flowers encircled her head and laced through the rich mane of hair that flowed down her back. Her dress had arrived only hours before from Madame Sauvage, in London. The shimmering, pearl-white dress flowed down her body, much as her hair did down her back, hugging her in all the right places.
All the right places—one of them being here at the one place she felt at home. Although, after today Haversham House would be her home. She only dreamed it would be the sanctuary that Foldger’s Foals had always been.
A light tap sounded and the door opened. It was time.
Time for her new beginning.
Time for her to take her place where she belonged.
Beside Brock: That was where she belonged.
“Come in,” Vi called.
The door opened on well-oiled hinges and Ruby stepped in, her smile matching Vi’s. “You look beautiful.” Her friend looked her up and down.
“Is everyone ready?”
“Yes. My mother and Lady Darlingiver finally arrived, and everyone is seated.”
“Is he ready?”
“By ‘he,’ I presume you are speaking of Lord Haversham. He is in attendance and looking quite dashing.”
“I remember you using just that phrase not long ago. How things have changed.” Butterflies fluttered in her stomach and her face heated.
Today, he would be hers and she his.
“I am so very happy you found Lord Haversham,” Ruby said as she embraced Vi.
“I, too.” Vi drew back and looked, truly looked, at her friend. “You look stunning, as well.”
Ruby was dressed in a deep plum-colored dress, the neckline high and the back cut low to expose her trim shoulders and long neck. Her hair was piled atop her head with nary an ornament to distract a person from her natural beauty.
Color blossomed and her friend dipped her head. “Thank you. This is one of the dresses I hadn’t a chance to wear while in London.”
“I am sorry.” Vi pulled her friend in tight for another hug. “I truly wanted you to have the season you were not afforded when you were younger.” It was Vi’s only regret since her departure from London the month before, to prepare for her wedding. It hadn’t started out that way. Her father had once again shipped her to the country, fearing another scandal. But Brock had quickly made his intentions known, and had come to Vi with a proper proposal.
Ruby pulled back and turned a bright-eyed smile on Vi. “Do not fret over me. I will travel to my family’s estate until next season. Which means you and I will not be far apart.”
“That is wonderful news,” Vi gushed.
The door burst open and Abby came to a halt, a glowing smile on her face. “Look, Lady Viola!” the child screamed. She pushed a hand full of silky material in Vi’s face.
“Whatever do you have here?”
“Oh, only the loveliest gloves ever!” Abby continued, pulling the gloves back and waving them around. “And just look at this.”
Vi grabbed the gloves that matched Abby’s pale pink dress perfectly.
“All the other girls got them, too, and the nice handkerchiefs.”
“They are lovely.” Ruby stood behind Vi, admiring them over her shoulder.
The material moved between Vi’s hands as she too admired the finely tailored accessory. In a lower corner were the monogrammed initials LAH. “What does this stand for?” she asked Abby.
“Why, Lady Abby Haversham, of course.”
Stunned, Vi looked from Abby to Ruby and back again. Both smiled, as if they knew a secret that Vi wasn’t privy too.
“Lord Haversham said since you will be married to him—and your name will be Lady Haversham—all your children will also have the title. I did not tell him I’m completely aware of the correct way to address an earl.” The child winked at Vi. “So, as of today, I am Lady Abby Haversham.”
Both women burst into laughter.
In that moment, she fell in love with Brock all over again. How she’d ever thought him cold and arrogant, she would not know.
“Shall we, ladies?” Ruby asked, sweeping her arm toward the open door.
“There is nothing I want more,” Viola answered. And there wasn’t.
The trio stepped out the door and were greeted by a crowd of Vi’s nearest and dearest friends and family. They all stood, their smiles beaming, mirroring her own.
And just past them all stood the most dashing, forgiving, compassionate man she had ever met. The man who had been brave enough to cast off the past and embrace the future, with Vi at his side. He held his hand out to her. It took everything in her power not to run to him.
He was a part of her tragic past.
He was the reason for her present joy.
And he would be her salvation in the future.
Other Books by Christina McKnight
Forgotten No More
Scorned Ever More
Christmas Ever More
Hidden No More
Coming Soon
The Thief Steals her Earl
The Mistress Enchants her Marquis
The Madame Catches her Duke
The Gambler Wagers her Baron
About the Author:
Christina McKnight is a book lover turned writer. From a young age, her mother encouraged her to tell her own stories. She’s been writing ever since. Currently, she focuses on historical romance, urban fantasy, and paranormal romance.
Christina enjoys a quiet life in Northern California with her family, her wine, and lots of coffee. Oh, and her books . . . don’t forget her books! Most days, she can be found writing, reading, or traveling the great state of California.
Follow her on Twitter: @CMcKnightWriter
Keep up to date on her releases: www.christinamcknight.com
Like Christina’s FB Author page: ChristinaMcKnightWriter
Author’s Notes
Thank you for reading Shunned No More, A Lady Forsaken Book 1.
If you enjoyed Shunned No More, be sure to write a brief review at Amazon, Barnes and Noble, or Goodreads.
I’d love to hear from you!
You can contact me at:
[email protected]
Or write me at:
P O Box 1017
Patterson, CA 95363
www.ChristinaMcKnight.com
Check out my website for giveaways, book reviews, and information on my other projects,
or connect with me through social media at:
Twitter: @CMcKnightWriter
Facebook: www.facebook.com/christinamcknightwriter
Goodreads: www.goodreads.com/ChristinaMcKnight
On a personal note, I wrote this novel during a huge time of change in my life. I’d like to thank all the people who believed in me and my writing journey. You never gave up on me, even when I lost sight of my own dreams! Especially Marc McGuire, Lauren Stewart, Jennifer Vella, Brandi Johnson, Chenoa Pearce, Rachelle Ayala, Lucie Ulrich, and Mary Merrell. You have all been very patient and wonderfully supportive of my eccentric ways.
A very special thank you to my editor, Jen Blood. You took on Shunned No More without a second thought. I look forward to many future endeavors with you. Jen Blood can be contacted by email at [email protected].
Cover art credit to LFD Designs for Author.
Wraparound cover design and website design credit to Sweet ‘N Spicy Designs.
Finally, thank you for supporting indie authors.
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