Untaming Lady Violet by April Moran
Chapter 22
“He cares for her as a sister. Remember that, Violet,” Celia murmured in her ear, and Violet could only nod.
That rushing feeling of dread she experienced at the sight of Grace breezing through the ornate doors could not be quashed.
Notorious for her lack of social airs, the duchess radiated all the strength and energy of a summer storm. Exquisitely dressed, her hair arranged perfectly, save for a few loose strands which slipped from her coiffure with a will of their own, she fairly gleamed with happiness.
“Oh, do hurry, Richeforte. Hurry!” Grace exclaimed, several steps ahead of her husband. Spying Herman, she laughed and closed the distance between them. “Herman, how wonderful it is seeing you again. I must say, your proclamation skills have not changed one bit, not that I thought they should. You announce everyone so perfectly. Don’t you think so, Richeforte?”
“Of course, darling,” came Nicholas’s droll response. The duke strolled in Grace’s wake, seeming unconcerned with his wife’s brash nature and her unusual behavior when addressing servants as if they were old friends. He smiled indulgently as Grace returned to his side, her hand slipping into his. Even to the casual observer, it was obvious the two could not tolerate being separated for even a short period of time.
“Our gracious hosts await us. Shall we?” Nicholas nodded toward Lord and Lady Darby.
Were they not already accustomed to their former ward and her impulsive nature, the earl and countess may have been shocked. But, having had guardianship over Grace for a lengthy period of time before her marriage to the duke, they were thankfully immune.
Grace blushed, and Violet felt a tremor of jealousy pierce the armor surrounding her heart.
How very beautiful Her Grace is. And how ardently she and the duke gaze at each other. As if they cannot bear to look elsewhere.
Glancing at Tristan, Violet expected to find his attention focused solely on Grace. Instead, his intense gaze centered on Violet herself. His eyes, usually lively and full of humor, were darkly penetrating as he watched her with a barely disguised hunger.
Only Richeforte’s low laugh succeeded in drawing Tristan’s eyes away, and even that was done in a reluctant manner.
“Welcome, Your Grace,” Lord Darby bowed first to Nicholas and then Grace. “Your Grace, you are even lovelier than the last time we saw you on the joyous occasion of your wedding day.”
Grace did not hesitate embracing her former guardian, followed by a fierce hug for Lady Darby. “How good it is to see you all. I’ve missed your dear faces.” Breaking free, she turned toward Celia with a delighted laugh. “And you, Celia. How I have missed you and your enchanting smile.”
Celia allowed herself to be swept into Grace’s arms.
“How wonderful you look, Your Grace.” Celia giggled. “It appears marriage agrees with you and the duke. Never have I seen two people with such an air of contentment around them.”
“The rigid rules of society shall not dictate our visit,” Grace said, leaning back to shake a finger at the family she lived with for so many months following her mother’s death. “I am simply ‘Grace’ to all of you. Or ‘Lady Grace’ if you are compelled to be so formal.” She grinned at Tristan with unabashed affection. “Hello, Longleigh. You look fit and well, as always. Perhaps more handsome, too, which surely isn’t fair to the other gentlemen visiting Darby Meadows.”
Tristan’s smile was warm and charming. “And I’ll respond with the observation your beauty is a welcomed bright spot.” With a genuine laugh of camaraderie, Tristan addressed the duke. “Richeforte, your presence always enlivens a gathering. It has been customary since the day we met.”
“In that retrospect, that was not always a pleasant thing to witness.” Nicholas shook Tristan’s hand, his brow arching. “But it is fortunate that the hospitality of Darby Meadows is always assured, as are the affections I have for you and your family.” When Grace nudged him with her shoulder, her gaze finding Violet and softening, the duke’s emerald green eyes widened the tiniest bit.
Giving Tristan a curious glance, Nicholas reached for Violet’s hand, gently pulling her to him. Several guests had gathered, and from the corner of her eye, Violet saw William standing in the entrance to the hall, an expression bordering on panic stamped over his features. Fiona Blackerby stood close by as well, her mouth set in a thin line of jealousy.
“Ah, the lovely Lady Violet,” Nicholas said. “Now, it must be said this May Day Affair is truly blessed with all the beauties of England in attendance.”
“How kind you are, Your Grace.” Violet thanked the stars above when her voice held steady and clear, despite her surprise that the powerful duke remembered her name. She couldn’t remember a time when Richeforte actually recognized her existence. Giving the duchess a shy smile, she murmured in acknowledgment, “Your Grace.”
She couldn’t bear to look at Tristan, not knowing if he stared at the duchess in rapt adoration, or perhaps now regarded Violet with vague disappointment.
Grace laughed, wrapping an arm around Violet’s waist. “None of that, now. We’ve been friends long enough that I will not tolerate such stuffiness. I’m so pleased to see you, Lady Violet. Your quiet, sweet nature is always a balm to one’s soul.”
Violet blushed until she was sure her cheeks were an unflattering shade of red. Her pulse thundered violently when Tristan commented, “Sometimes, a quiet nature is simply a mask hiding a fierceness of spirit.”
“A brilliant observation,” Lady Darby said, giving her son a nod of approval. “Come, let us get you settled into your rooms. Lady Grace, I’m sure you would appreciate a chance to freshen up after your journey.”
“Your Grace, would you care for a brandy?” Lord Darby inquired, turning to Nicholas.
“I held hope you would ask, Darby.”
Celia clapped her hands. “Oh, Grace! You arrived at just the right time. We are to have dancing tomorrow evening in the west parlor. The doors will be open to the terrace and the gardens. It will not compare to the May Day Affair Ball, but still, it is dancing all the same. Oh, do say you and His Grace will attend.”
“I most certainly will. Nothing could keep me from it,” Grace replied. Moving so until she stood between Celia and Violet, she linked her arms through those of the two girls. “Come with me to my rooms and help me decide what I should wear. Richeforte spent an ungodly amount adding to my wardrobe while we were away in France.” She sent her husband a dazzling smile. “Even though he knows I’d be just as content wearing last season’s gowns, provided I also have breeches and boots.”
“It is money well spent when the finished products enhance your beauty.” Nicholas grinned at his wife. “And you still have your breeches and boots. It appears I can deny you nothing, honeybee.”
Ducking her head, Grace whispered in a conspiratorial manner, “He spoils me without a smidgen of embarrassment. It is quite remarkable.” Raising her voice, she called out to Nicholas as Lady Darby led the way from the foyer. “Don’t be long, darling.”
Nicholas tilted his head toward Tristan while addressing his wife. “I wouldn’t dare, Your Grace. Longleigh, will you join us for that brandy?”
Violet caught Tristan’s eye. With a self-aware shiver, she realized he still watched her closely, as if attempting to learn a secret about her. While friendly and cordial in his interactions with Grace, he certainly did not exhibit any signs of previous or current infatuation.
Tristan’s attention returned to Nicholas and his father. “A brandy would be most appreciated.”
Violet watched Tristan as long as she could, pulled along as she was with Celia holding her arm.
Grace kept up a steady stream of chatter as they descended the stairs.
“You must tell me everything I’ve missed during our time in France. It seems a great deal has taken place. Good things, I’m sure. Violet, I find myself most curious about you. Have you and Longleigh developed affections toward one another? You do make such a lovely couple. You’ve always harbored a tender spot for him, and he has finally discovered one for you. Oh, Lady Darby, how excited you must be. To gain Violet as a daughter is certainly a blessing.”
Violet came to a halt, forcing the other two girls to fall backward. Even Lady Darby paused, glancing over her shoulder.
“Your Grace, I’m afraid your observations are far from correct. You see, you misunderstand…” Violet was not comfortable correcting the duchess, but it wasn’t right to foster the misconception that she and Tristan were embroiled in a relationship. “Longleigh and I are not…”
“But you could be, Violet,” Celia insisted fiercely, taking Violet’s arm while urging her to continue walking. “You must admit Longleigh has been very attentive since he arrived. He has never shown so much interest in you as he has these past two weeks.”
“Celia, dear, do not meddle in your brother’s life,” Lady Darby said in a stern manner as she opened the doors to one of the suites. “Nor Violet’s, for that matter.”
“I noticed his eyes never left you, Violet,” Grace observed as they entered the rooms set aside for their visit. “The viscount looks at you as one might expect when two people are in love. Even when he believed himself head over heels for me, awkward as it was, he never seemed so… absorbed.”
The subject of Tristan’s former infatuation with Grace was casually stated even as Violet cringed.
Oh, God. How will I survive the constant reminder Tristan was in love with her?
“I’m sure you are mistaken. Longleigh carries no affection for me other than that as a family friend,” Violet managed with a slight wince. “Please, may we speak of other things?”
Her face felt as if it were on fire as she turned to the windows, gazing out at the rolling meadows. Perhaps the glitter of tears in her eyes would go unnoticed.
“I am sorry, Violet. I did not mean to upset you, truly,” Grace said quietly. “It seems I’ve become one of those women who believes everyone should be married when not so long ago I was firmly set against it. The viscount is very dear to me and to Richeforte. We only wish him happiness. I thought perhaps you could be the one who might help him find it.”
“Longleigh has no interest in marriage. Not anymore.”
Violet’s words hung in the air, an uncomfortable reminder of why Tristan decided marriage was not for him.
“He cares only for pleasure and merriment,” Violet continued, spinning around to face the other women. “His lack of interest in finding a suitable wife is well known, but Lord Longleigh’s views on matrimony are none of my concern. When my father and mother arrive, my engagement to Lord William Gadley will be announced. I am to be his wife.”
Celia looked as though she might swallow her tongue in an effort to keep her opinion quiet. Angry disappointment leaked from her, but she remained silent. Lady Darby nervously bustled around the room as the servants began carrying in the baggage and the duchess’s clothing trunks. She wiped a tear from her cheek when she believed Violet was not watching.
Grace regarded Violet for a long moment, then slowly replied, “Forgive my impulsive words, Violet. Richeforte always says I chatter too much. Perhaps he is right, although I do hate admitting it.” Her honey brown eyes were sharp though, leaving Violet to wonder if Grace could see through her affected indifference.
“Thank you, Your Grace.” Violet nodded. “Longleigh himself would agree we have no connection other than through our families.”
She refused to remember how connected she’d been to Tristan just a few days before. The overwhelming, terrifying pleasure she experienced when his mouth pressed against her skin. Remembering that blissful interlude was dangerous.
And it was dangerous to wish Tristan would repeat it.
* * *
Violet emergedfrom the strand of trees and stood at the edge of the small clearing.
The oak was still there, despite the fact it seemed centuries ago that she had fallen and landed on Tristan in an awkward heap of legs and velvet skirts. With a heavy sigh, she advanced until she was directly beneath the outstretched limbs.
Craning her neck, she peered through the thick canopy of leaves in an attempt at locating the nest. Chirping noises could be heard, but until a pair of robins fluttered overhead and landed on a swaying branch, Violet was unsure the nest still existed.
She exhaled in relief. If both parents of the fledglings were present, then it was a good indication the nest still held occupants. Moving closer to the base of the tree, she listened very carefully until she finally heard multiple chirps. Following the sounds, she located the spot where she’d climbed up before and saw a fluttering of tiny wings on the sturdy branch.
“Oh, you dear things. So, you are leaving the nest at last,” Violet exclaimed with a pleased smile.
Gratified by visual proof that the robins had survived in her absence, Violet leaned back against tree’s rough bark. The stem of a vibrant, yellow wildflower was absently twirled between her fingers. She had plucked it along the way through the meadow after slowing her frantic escape from the house.
A grimace twisted her features as she thought of her actions. It was cowardly, but there was no choice other than to flee at the first available opportunity.
Standing in the sunshine that was Grace Willsdown March, proved entirely too painful. Violet’s heart and cheeks had begun aching with the effort of smiling as if nothing were wrong. She withstood the torture for as long as possible, all the while wondering how long she must pretend. How long must she keep up the façade that she was not madly in love with the man who perhaps still loved the duchess?
“Are the robins still alive?”
Violet clutched the wildflower with such force it ended up crushed between her fingers. So immersed was she in despair, she failed to notice Tristan’s approach. His footsteps had fallen with quick softness on the grassy soil, and now, he stood only feet away.
Quickly dashing a tear from her cheek, she turned toward him, smiling brightly as if his presence did not affect her in the slightest.
“They are.”
Tristan cocked his head when he heard the cheerfulness of her tone. Hands clasped behind his back, he stalked toward her.
“I thought perhaps there was a dire outcome, based on your tears.”
Violet’s teeth clenched. Could she conceal nothing from this man? “I don’t know what you mean, Longleigh.”
Frowning, Tristan reached the oak, leaning a forearm against its surface. The look he gave was intensely scrutinizing. “You cannot hide such things from me, Violet.”
“How did you know where to find me?”
He gave her a crooked smile. “No one else may have noticed you running past the library windows, but I certainly did. Naturally, I followed what I believed to be your path. I wanted to assure myself of your safety. So, here we are.”
Tristan stood so close that his trousers brushed against her skirts, and his fingers, if he were to flex them the slightest bit in her direction, would actually slide over her hair. Violet swallowed hard, praying he would not do that. She would crumble like a house made of straw if he dared touch her right now. Her feelings skated too close to the surface, barely held in check with the tightest of reins.
“Yes, here we are.” She dared glance up at him and was immediately sorry. Dark with concern, his eyes bore into hers until she squirmed under their intensity.
“Why did you leave?” Tristan questioned softly.
“I felt like taking a walk.” Violet averted her gaze, remembering she held a crumpled blossom in her hand. “I needed some fresh air.” Tossing the flower aside, she told herself she would not look at him again. “Well, I should go back now.”
Before she could push off from the tree, Tristan shifted so that his body blocked hers. “Violet, wait. At the very least, tell me what has upset you.”
Violet was certain she would not survive it when his fingers drifted down until they rested lightly in the hollow of her throat. He stroked the indention there with a feather-soft caress.
“It is nothing, Tristan. Nothing you should concern yourself over, anyway.”
“I don’t believe you.” He leaned forward, his nose touching hers almost playfully. “Shall I kiss the truth out of you? Make a game of it? For every truthful answer you give me, I shall kiss you until your toes curl.”
Violet bit her lip against the thrill elicited by the mere mention of kissing. How I wish it was as simple as that. I wish I could treat whatever is between us as a bit of sport. But I’ve not the heart for it.And I’m too weak to deny him.
When she did not reject his suggestion outright, a wry smile lifted Tristan’s lips.
“Kitten, you remember, don’t you, that I’ve promised nothing in this game of ours? A game you agreed to. Mutual pleasure is the extent of things, and if you are unwilling to continue in such a manner, you need only say the word. I will not force anything upon you that you do not wish to experience. But decide now if I should keep you or let you go. I find my patience grows treacherously thin.”
Violet’s mouth tightened. “I do not require a reminder that you merely toy with me. I realize this is a farce and the outcome matters very little to you.”
“Oh, kitten. If only that were the truth. You mean more to me than you can possibly understand.” Tristan’s mouth hovered above hers, his hand never leaving her throat. Those long, strong fingers curled around the column of her neck as if he intended to contradict his own promise of releasing her.
“Now, I am the one who cannot believe you, Tristan. And I’ve no intention of kissing you to discover if what you say is truth or fabrication.” Violet quickly ducked beneath his arm. With deceptive calm, she strolled away without a single care he might haul her back against him.
Glancing over her shoulder, she found him watching her retreat with a puzzled expression twisting his features.
“Violet, this discussion is not over. And this kiss, this kiss will happen, eventually. You know that.”
“I know nothing of the sort.” Violet was proud that not even a sliver of shyness was evident in her voice. “Oh, and Tristan? You have no need to worry for my safety here at Darby Meadows. I’ve explored every inch of this estate over the years and know it as though it were my own. Your show of concern is touching, however. Insincere, but touching. I’ll see you back at the house.”