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“Good morning, Violet,” Lord Ellsworth said pleasantly. “I trust you slept well?”
“Quite, thank you, my lord.” She moved closer. “I couldn’t help overhearing. As you and James are discussing my marriage and my future, don’t you think I should be present?”
“Of course.” James offered her a chair.
“I’d prefer to stand.” She braced herself. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but you’re suggesting that you and I continue our lives as if we were not married? You go your way and I go mine?”
“Well, yes, something like that.”
“I see.” Good Lord! The man really didn’t want her. A lump lodged in her throat. She ignored it. Now was not the time to feel sorry for herself. She’d thought, she’d hoped, that he liked her well enough to make a success of this marriage. She more than liked him, she’d been secretly smitten with the man very nearly since the moment she’d met him. What an idiot she was. “Then last night was...” She steeled herself, not sure if she wanted the answer. Still, only a coward wouldn’t ask the question and the time for cowardliness was past. “An obligation? The responsibility of a dutiful husband?”
“No, not entirely.” He paused to choose his words. “But last night does erase any question of the legality of our union. It protects you should something happen to me. Death or something of the like.”
“That’s certainly the best idea I’ve heard today,” she snapped.
Lord Ellsworth cleared his throat.
“I say, Violet, that’s uncalled-for.” James frowned.
“Really? And I think that’s the very least that is called for!”
“Didn’t you say she was shy and reserved?” Lord Ellsworth said in an aside to James.
“She was.”
“Shy and reserved will not serve me well at the moment, my lord.” She clenched her fists by her side, as much to still the trembling of her hands as from anger.
The oddest look of what might have been admiration shone in the older man’s eyes. Any other time she would have reveled in it. Now, she was fighting for her future. Her husband—her new husband—was about to turn her into that most pathetic creature: a wife in name only. Absolutely not! She squared her shoulders. “I will not return to my family’s house.”
“We shall find you a house,” James said quickly.
“She shall stay here.” Lord Ellsworth shot him a hard glance. “This is her home now.”
“Yes, of course.” Unease shaded James’s words. He was no doubt thinking exactly what she was—being under the same roof would be exceptionally awkward if indeed they were living separate lives.
“I’m not sure I wish to.” Violet crossed her arms over her chest. “In this marriage you’re proposing, you are free to continue your reckless and scandalous ways?”
“Yes, I suppose, although calling them reckless and scandalous does seem a bit harsh.”
She ignored him. “And I may do as I wish, as well?”
“I hadn’t really considered...” James’s brow furrowed in confusion. Obviously the man didn’t like the sound of that. Good. “I would think so.”
She smiled slowly. He didn’t seem to like that, either. “Now that we have agreed to the rules—” she turned to Lord Ellsworth “—I hate to be indelicate but I would like to discuss finances.”
His lordship nodded. “James will provide you with an allowance suitable for your position. Yours to spend as you please.”
James nodded.
She looked at her new husband for a long moment. Silly of her to think that simply because she had feelings for him, because they shared a certain friendship, that this sham of a marriage would succeed. She shifted her gaze back to his uncle. “Given our arrangement, London is going to be uncomfortable for both of us. I have always wanted to travel. Can that be arranged?”
“Yes, of course.” Lord Ellsworth glanced at his nephew. “Unless, you have any objection?”
“Whatever she wants,” James said quietly. It really was the least he could do and the man knew it. He’d ruined her life. Destroyed any real chance of a good match and put her at the center of scandal. Now he could make amends by financing her freedom.
“Very well then.” She met her husband’s gaze directly. “I do agree with you, James. I don’t think you’re ready for marriage. For that matter, I doubt you’re ready for any significant responsibility whatsoever.”
“Come now, Violet.” The man actually had the nerve to sound indignant. “I should be given some credit. I did marry you and in doing so saved you from ruin. One might say I rescued you.”
“After it was you who put me in an untenable situation in the first place.” She ignored the fact that she had kissed him back with all the enthusiasm of unrequited love. “And destroyed my life in the process.”
“Not deliberately,” James said as if that made a difference. “That was never my intention.”
“I’ll arrange an appointment with my solicitor.” Lord Ellsworth smiled at his new niece. “I know it’s difficult at the moment, but regardless of where your travels take you, I do hope you will consider Ellsworth House your home.”
She forced a smile. “Thank you, my lord.” She turned her attention back to James. Resolve hardened her voice. “As for you, I never want to see you again.”
“There will be occasions—”
“Never!” She fairly spat the word, ignoring the pain squeezing her heart. Apparently, this was what true heartbreak felt like. No doubt made worse by the hope that last night... She thrust the thought aside. “I’m quite serious, James. Never.”
He stared, a stunned look on his handsome face. As if only now did he realize the consequences of what he’d done, of how he’d crushed her hopes and her heart. “Very well, never.”
“Now, if you will excuse me.” Violet nodded and headed toward the door. It was all she should do to keep her pace calm and sedate when what she truly wanted was to flee and then weep. Possibly forever.
“That appears resolved,” his lordship said behind her. “I must say, I’m rather disappointed.”
Tears blurred her eyes and she started toward her rooms. This was not the future she’d envisioned yesterday when she’d said vows that apparently only she really meant.
“It’s for the best, uncle.” James’s voice trailed after her.
Maybe in that at least, James was right.
PART ONE (#udd143778-0894-5eb0-bd50-12ebad7cd5b6)
London
CHAPTER ONE (#udd143778-0894-5eb0-bd50-12ebad7cd5b6)
Nearly six years later...
“HAVE I TOLD you how fortunate I am to be dancing with the loveliest woman here?” Lord Westmont said in his most charming manner. A manner designed to persuade whatever lady he was speaking to that he had never said those words—or words at all like them—to any other woman.
“Why no, my lord, I don’t believe you have.” Violet Branham followed his lead flawlessly. Westmont was an excellent dancer but then so was she. She flashed him a knowing smile. “At least not tonight. Although you might have mentioned it last year when we danced together at this very ball. And I believe the year before that, as well.”
His eyes widened in surprise. Poor Evan never would have expected a woman—a mere woman no doubt—to be so horribly honest. It was not how the game was played. But then Violet was tired of playing games by other people’s rules.
A stunned moment later, he laughed. “Lady Ellsworth, you are as outspoken as ever. I don’t know why I didn’t notice how truly delightful you are years ago.”
“Years ago, I wasn’t particularly delightful. But you don’t recall meeting me years ago, do you?”
The most charming look of panic crossed his face.
“Goodness, Evan, we met some nine years ago during my first season and again during my second and third seasons, as well. You simply weren’t, oh, aware of me, I would say.”
He frowned. “That’s a dreadful accusation.”
“My apologies.” She widened her eyes in an innocent manner. “Was I supposed to be kind?”
“I’m beginning to suspect I don’t deserve kindness,” he said slowly.
“Not in that respect. It was indeed a dreadful thing to do, you know. At least it seemed so at the time.” She shrugged. “Although you were not alone in your complete lack of acknowledgment of my very existence.”
He winced. “My apologies, Violet. All I can say in my defense is that I was much younger, rather full of myself and somewhat stupid. Well, extremely stupid.” He paused. “You may object, should you feel the need.”
“Oh, no, please continue.”
It was rather fun, making Evan pay, as it were, for the rudeness of his youth. There was a time when she never would have thrown his vile behavior back in his face. But she was not the same girl he had ignored all those years ago. It wasn’t so much that she had blossomed as she had simply come into her own, aged like a fine wine. When she had first come out in society, she had been one of those vast numbers of girls who were not so pretty as to catch the eye of every available gentleman, but not so dull as to be considered a true wallflower. Admittedly, that changed with every passing season as her prospects for marriage grew dimmer. There was hope for Violet, her mother had often said, if only Violet would pay more attention to her appearance and at least pretend to enjoy flirtatious chatter and social occasions even if she thought such things inane. No, much to Mother’s annoyance, Violet preferred her own company and the solitude to write bad poetry or read Lord Byron’s works or ride alone. No wonder men like Lord Westmont tended to overlook her.
Those days were past. Years of travel abroad, meeting fascinating people and having assorted adventures had polished her. Provided her with the kind of confidence one could only acquire from living life. And she knew it. She was not the girl she used to be. Nearly six years of a separated marriage was enough to change anyone. As well as force them to grow up and discard silly thoughts of love and romance and other such nonsense.
“And I was rather shallow as well it appears.” Genuine regret shone in his eyes. Perhaps she wasn’t the only one who had changed. “Once again, my apologies for my thoughtless behavior. But tonight, I do think you are the loveliest, as well as most interesting, woman in the room.”
“And tonight, my lord,” she said, and smiled up at him, “I will believe you.”
“Am I forgiven then?”
“Perhaps.”
He laughed then sobered. “Why don’t you come back to England more often? Allow me to make up for the past.”
“I am considering it.”
He gazed into her eyes and smiled. “Good.”
She returned his smile but was not so foolish as to believe his words. Evan was an outrageous flirt and Violet had no intention of becoming any man’s conquest.
In spite of any number of admittedly silly concerns, it was good to be back in London. It was always good to come home. Although the house in Mayfair she resided in when she was in the city was scarcely home. But as it was her husband’s house, it was hers, as well. She refused to stay with her parents. Returning to the house of her girlhood would be an admission that her marriage was a dreadful failure. It was true, of course, and everyone in London knew it, but she had no desire to listen to her mother tell her exactly what she had done wrong.
Violet knew all too well that she had allowed a bit of foolish girlhood longing and a remarkable kiss to sweep aside all reason, overcoming good sense and any sort of primal instinct of self-preservation.
The music faded. She stepped out of Evan’s arms, and he escorted her off the dance floor.
“In spite of your painful candor—” Evan raised her hand to his lips “—I would very much like to call on you. I would be honored if you would allow me the opportunity to make amends for my past stupidity.” He grinned. “I do so like a challenge.”
“You do realize I’m a married woman.”
He gasped in an overly dramatic manner. She doubted if anyone in London was not aware of her sham of a marriage. How she and James had married and then gone their separate ways. It was a long time ago but society had a very long memory. “Violet, you misunderstand. I only wish to further our friendship.”
“You are no more than a breath away from becoming a true cad, aren’t you, Evan?”
He grinned, then caught sight of something over her shoulder and froze like a frightened bunny. And she knew.
“Lord Westmont,” the voice that shouldn’t be at all familiar and yet was recognized somewhere in the vicinity of her soul, sounded behind her. Her heart clenched.
“Ellsworth,” Evan said with far more composure than she would have thought he had a moment ago.
Violet summoned the most awful sense of determination. She had anticipated this moment, planned for it ever since she had finally accepted he had absolutely no interest in her whatsoever. She turned and smiled politely, ignoring the hitch in her throat. He had always been the handsomest man in the room with his dark hair and deep blue eyes. No doubt if she’d stayed with him, he would have broken her heart. Again. The man didn’t have a faithful bone in his body. “Lord Ellsworth.”
His gaze bore into hers. She refused to flinch.
“Lady Ellsworth.” He took her hand and raised it to his lips, his gaze never faltering from hers. If she were a fanciful sort, she would have thought a hush fell over the entire ballroom, all eyes on the estranged Lord and Lady Ellsworth. Once, the very thought would have terrified her. Now, she didn’t care. “Never is a very long time.”
“Apparently, not long enough.”
The look in his eyes was an interesting mix of caution, curiosity and challenge. But then they hadn’t seen each other face-to-face in close to six years. God knew what her eyes were saying to him. “I believe this is our dance.”
“Is it?” She tilted her head. He appeared exactly as she remembered. His shoulders were as broad, his gaze as endless, his hair as thick and dark and just the tiniest bit disarrayed—as if it was the last stronghold of the rebellious nature of his youth.
Oh, certainly, over the years she’d seen him on occasion from the window of her room as he was leaving the London house, scampering off to the country or wherever he went so as to avoid her during her visits home, thus keeping a promise he’d made long ago. But this was the closest they’d been to each other since the day after their wedding. On further consideration, he wasn’t entirely unchanged. There were a few creases around the corners of his eyes but beyond that, something had shifted, matured perhaps. The look in his eye had once been carefree and flirtatious and brimming with ill-concealed amusement. Now it was direct, firm, compelling. His lighthearted manner six years ago was that of a young man with no particular cares or responsibilities. The air of assurance and confidence about him now was that of a man who had no doubt of his place in the world. This was no longer the happy-go-lucky young man she been forced to wed when she had just turned twenty-one and he was twenty-four. But then she was not the quiet, pale creature she’d been then, either. “Are you sure you’re not mistaken?”
“Violet,” Evan interrupted. “Do you need my assistance?”
What a surprisingly gallant thing to say. Perhaps she had misjudged him.
“No, Evan, but I do appreciate your offer.” She smiled in polite dismissal then paused. “Although might I request a favor?”
“Anything,” he said with a smile.
“Do you see the young ladies over there?” She nodded toward a group of young women sitting together, desperately trying to appear as if they were having a wonderful time and not counting the minutes until they could flee for the safety of home. “They are no doubt reserved and quiet but are probably quite interesting and very nice. Would you ask at least one of them to dance?”
“I shall do better than that,” Evan said gallantly. “I shall ask my brother and a few of my friends to dance with them, as well.”
She cast him a brilliant smile. “In which case you are most certainly forgiven.”
Evan grinned and took his leave.
Violet turned her attention back to James, who, as of two months ago when dear Uncle Richard had passed on, was now the Earl of Ellsworth. The man who had ruined her life. Her husband.
“There are any number of things I may be mistaken about. Nonetheless, this is our dance.” James leaned in and spoke softly. “People are staring.”
She laughed as if he had just said something amusing. “Of course they are, James. We’ve never been seen together in public before. No doubt everyone is expecting we’ll do something they can talk about for days. Now the question is—will we?”
“Shall we disappoint them instead?” He held out his arm. “Dance with me, Violet.”
“There’s nothing I’d rather do.” In truth, there were any number of things she’d rather do including walking on hot coals and being thrown into a lion’s den. There was little difference and little choice. She placed her hand on his arm and allowed him to escort her onto the floor.
Regardless of how often she’d practiced exactly what she’d say when this moment came she couldn’t quite summon the right words. Perhaps because it was deeply unsettling to be in his arms again where she never should have been in the first place.
