Читать книгу Lady Traveller's Guide To Happily Ever After - Victoria Alexander, Victoria Alexander - Страница 12

“APPARENTLY, JAMES HAS a legitimate office.” Violet stirred a dollop of cream into the Turkish coffee she preferred that Richard’s—or rather James’s or now her cook, she supposed—always had on hand for her visits. Thanks to a restless night, Violet had slept later than usual and it was nearly noon before she came downstairs to join Cleo in the cozy breakfast room where the widow was sorting through Violet’s correspondence. “And keeps business hours.”

“Who would have thought.” Cleo bit back a smile. Apparently, her companion found the fact that Uncle Richard’s comments in recent years about how much James had changed, the responsibilities he’d taken on, his head for management and business and his accompanying maturity did have a basis in fact and were not simply the ramblings of a loving uncle, to be most amusing.

Cleo Ryland had been Violet’s companion, secretary and dear friend almost from the very day Violet had hired her. A scant three years older than Violet, the pretty young widow had been the first person to answer Violet’s advertisement when she had decided to use James’s financial support to travel. Violet liked her immediately and the feeling was mutual. Cleo was well-educated, intelligent with a clever wit and a desire to do something with her life other than marry the first man who came along simply for financial salvation. She was also tired of her family’s—particularly her mother’s—constant harping on how she needed to find a new husband before she was too old to do so. She and Violet had a great deal in common when it came to mothers. Within days, Violet had Cleo’s references checked and the two women were off to see the world.

“It’s most convenient, really. I’d prefer not to be around him every minute.” Especially as Violet had no desire to continue yesterday’s discussion quite yet. Still, it had remained on her mind throughout the long night. As much as she hated to admit it, James was right. There was little choice but to abide by the terms of Uncle Richard’s will. “Unless he was at one of his many clubs, my father was always in the house. Usually in his library.”

Violet glanced around the morning room. It could use a bit of freshening. In fact, the entire house could stand refurbishment. It had been a bachelor abode for entirely too long. That might be something she could take on during the next three years. She’d never been the mistress of a house and it sounded rather like fun. She had, after all, been trained for the position. It was the only thing she’d been expected to do with her life.

“In spite of the circumstances, I am glad to be back in London.” Violet sipped her coffee, savoring the hearty aroma and the deep flavor mellowed by the rich cream. “This time it feels different, as if I have indeed returned for good.”

“I suppose even the lure of the adventure to be found in travel pales in time.”

“Perhaps.” It had indeed been the grandest of adventures. “One does like to pause now and again. To catch one’s breath.”

“Three years is more than enough time to catch one’s breath.” Cleo studied her curiously. “You’re going to do it, aren’t you?”

Violet met her friend’s gaze. “I am.”

Cleo glanced at the door as if to make certain they were alone then lowered her voice. “What are you going to do about you-know-who?”

“Quite frankly,” Violet winced, “I haven’t given him a second thought.”

Cleo’s eyes widened. “That’s rather telling, isn’t it? I thought you and he were—”

“We’re not,” Violet said firmly. “Admittedly, we have discussed the possibility of something more, as well as the possibility of divorce, but there’s never really been anything more between us. I’ve been very clear about how I feel. He’s been a good friend and he’s a very nice man. And if I were free, well...” She shook her head. “I can’t ask him to wait three years in hopes that my feelings will become more significant than they are.”

“I see.” Cleo considered her. “But you are going to spend three years with a man you haven’t spoken to in nearly six?”

Violet knew Cleo wouldn’t understand. Cleo believed James had ruined Violet’s life and therefore was the root of all evil in the world. “I know you don’t like James—”

Cleo snorted.

“—but I owe him a great deal.”

“Nonsense.” Cleo sniffed. “You don’t owe him anything.”

“On the contrary, Cleo.” Violet blew a long breath. “He could have made my life miserable. You and I both know women whose husbands have tired of them or never especially wanted them in the first place. Their lives look fine on the surface but everyone knows how dreadfully unhappy they are. They are the subject of quiet ridicule and blatant pity. James saved me from that.” She shook her head. “He married me because of a silly mistake that nonetheless would have ruined my life. He deserves some credit for doing the right thing.”

“He married you and then went his own way. According to everything we’ve heard, he’s behaved exactly as he did before he was married.” Cleo pinned her with a firm look. “I think you should tell him to shove off.”

Violet laughed. “You are a good friend but in this, you’re wrong.” She thought for a moment. “In providing generous financial support, as well as freedom and independence, James gave me the world.

“I wouldn’t have become who I am and I certainly would never have met you, Cleo, had he insisted on my being an expected sort of wife. Think of the things we’ve seen, the things we’ve done, the people we’ve met and those we’ve helped in some small way. James made it all possible and for that I’m grateful.” She shrugged. “I didn’t say it would be easy and I’m not especially happy about it. And yes, three years is a long time, but James saved me once. Now it’s my turn to save him.”

“Are you going to tell him how you feel?”

“Don’t be absurd. I’ll tell him I’ve decided to abide by the terms of the will, but I certainly won’t say I’m grateful to him.” She adopted a wicked smile. “It would go straight to his head and that wouldn’t be any fun at all. Nor do I intend to make this easy for him.”

“That sounds something like revenge.”

“I prefer to think of it more as retribution. If he wants his inheritance, I intend to make him work for it. I’m not sure how at the moment, but I’m certain opportunities will arise.” She paused. “Besides, I like the idea of his being in my debt.”

“I hadn’t thought of that.” Cleo nodded. “Very clever.”

Violet sipped her coffee. “Aside from everything else, this was Uncle Richard’s last wish. I owe him, as well.”

Still, as grateful as she was for the life James had given her, there were some things she could not ignore. He never made any attempt at a real marriage with her. He never saw her, never spoke to her. Admittedly, she had said she never wanted to see him again, but that sort of thing did tend to mellow with the years. There were any number of times—especially in the first few years—when she would have been receptive to overtures, even reconciliation. When she might well have returned to truly be his wife. But he’d made no effort whatsoever. And he’d certainly never asked her to come home. Oh, she could have taken the first step toward him. Whether it was a matter of pride or simple stubbornness or apprehension, Violet refused to do so. James had made the decision as to the type of marriage they’d have, he had determined the path of their lives and it was up to James to change that path.

She might be willing to give him three years but forgiveness was another question entirely. It scarcely mattered how much these years apart had changed either of them. The moment she saw him again, she knew somewhere deep inside she would have to keep her distance and guard against the resurfacing of any of those feelings she’d once thought she had for him. The man was not to be trusted, at least not with her heart. Regardless of his intent, and whether he realized it or not, he had broken her heart all those years ago. She would not allow him to do so again.

“It might even be fun.” Violet grinned. “Being Lady Ellsworth, that is.”

“One can only hope.” Cleo smiled. “You are already in high demand. There are a number of invitations here to consider.”

“So soon?”

“According to his lordship’s secretary, the earl is routinely invited to nearly everything of note, although his attendance is rare. Even though you weren’t here, invitations were always addressed to Mr. and Mrs. Branham and now, of course, to Lord and Lady Ellsworth.” She paused. “Everyone in society is going to be talking about your reconciliation, you know. The attention on the two of you will be unrelenting.”

“Thank you for the reminder.” Violet had very nearly put the stipulation about appearing as a happy couple out of her head.

She knew full well there was no possible way for the two of them to appear in public without causing a tidal wave of gossip. Violet Branham may be clever, confident and sophisticated when it came to the rest of the world but here in London, she had always feared she might slip back into the docile creature she used to be. That when presented with the unforgiving, unrelenting judgmental nature of London society—of her mother and people exactly like her—time would reverse itself and she would again be the unassuming wallflower she had once been. Precisely why she never stayed long in England. That would be yet another challenge of the next three years. “Let’s wait to decide what to accept until we speak to Mrs. Higginbotham and her friends tonight. I’m sure they will have some suggestions.”

“Lady Ellsworth.” Andrews appeared at the door. “Lady Cranton is here.”

Cleo winced.

“Tell her I’m not at home,” Violet said.

A distinct look of distress washed over the butler’s face.

Violet grimaced. “She knows I’m here, doesn’t she?”

“I’m afraid so, my lady.”

“It can’t be helped I suppose.” Violet sighed. “Please show her into the parlor. Oh, and then ask the kitchen for tea and a tray of biscuits.” Violet glanced at Cleo. “You know how she’ll be if I don’t offer her something.”

Cleo shuddered.

“Anything else, my lady?” Andrews asked.

“A pot of coffee as well, I think.” Violet nodded. “That will do. Thank you, Andrews.”

The butler nodded and hurried off.

“You do realize, living in England for the next three years, seeing her will be unavoidable.”

“I hadn’t thought of that. Although that in itself is enough to make me change my mind,” Violet added and rose to her feet.

“Are you sure you want to talk to her alone?”

“Not really, but this is my house and I’m not going to put up with her nonsense in my own home.” She started toward the parlor. “But do say a little prayer for me, Cleo.”

“I daresay a single prayer will not be nearly enough.” Cleo’s words trailed after her.

Violet paused before the parlor doors, summoned every ounce of confidence she possessed, adopted a pleasant smile and pushed open the doors. “Good morning, Mother.”

Margaret, Viscountess Cranton, was as tall as her daughter with hair a few shades darker. That, Violet had always thought, was where the similarities ended. While Mother was still a fine figure of a woman, she was stern and unrelenting in her pursuit of what she deemed to be required or proper. Mother’s unyielding nature was evident in her manner and her speech and showed on her face. Mother, Violet had long suspected, had never been especially happy. She would have felt sorry for Father but he didn’t seem to care.

“Please God, Violet, have you at last come to your senses?”

“Delightful to see you again, Mother.” Violet smiled coolly. “I thought I’d see you before now. Lady Brockwell’s ball was the day before yesterday, after all.”

“I’ve been in the country. We returned last night.” Mother glared. “I demand to know what’s going on.”

“Do be seated, Mother.” Violet waved at the sofa, then settled in a nearby chair.

Mother glanced around the parlor, no doubt assessing the quality and cost of every item in the room. She probably hadn’t stepped foot in Ellsworth House since James’s ill-fated engagement party all those years ago.

“Well, go on.”

“I’m not sure what you want to know.”

“Don’t be evasive.” Mother’s brows drew together. “You know exactly what I’m asking.”

A discreet knock sounded at the parlor doors before they opened and Andrews rolled in a tea cart. Mother set her jaw impatiently. It would never do to be caught discussing private matters with servants present.

“Would you like me to pour, my lady?” Andrews asked.

“I’ll do it. Thank you, Andrews.” Violet smiled and nodded in dismissal.

Andrews took his leave, no doubt grateful to escape.

“Would you care for tea?” Violet said, even as she poured a cup.

“At least you haven’t forgotten everything you were taught.” Mother accepted the cup and added sugar.

“I assure you, Mother, I’ve forgotten absolutely nothing.” Violet poured herself a cup of coffee.

“Is that coffee?” Disapproval furrowed Mother’s brow.

“It is.” Violet widened her eyes innocently. “Oh, I do apologize. Did you prefer coffee?”

“Don’t be absurd.” Mother considered coffee a drink of the lower classes and therefore beneath her. “No doubt you picked up a taste for it in some godforsaken foreign coffeehouse.”

“No doubt.”

Mother cautiously selected two biscuits, as if she wanted to assure herself of their quality before indulging. Violet’s jaw tightened.

“Why are you here, Mother?”

“Instead of waiting for you to call on me?” Mother’s brow soared upward. “Who knows when that might happen.”

“Come now, Mother. I join you and Father and Caroline for dinner whenever I’m in London.” As much as neither Violet nor her mother enjoyed it, Violet always paid an obligatory call on her family, which usually included dinner. An ordeal no one especially enjoyed. Conversation inevitably centered around what a perfect daughter twenty-year-old Caroline was with her brilliant prospects for a match and the disastrous state of Violet’s own marriage. A failure that was obviously her fault. Truth was never especially important to Mother.

The fact of the matter was Mother had never forgiven Violet for being the subject of scandal, compounded by her not becoming the perfect Mrs. Branham, now Lady Ellsworth, she was expected to be. She should have been a force in society, a renowned hostess and mother of a respectable number of offspring. A daughter an ambitious mother could be proud of. And Violet had never forgiven her mother for leaping at the chance to marry her off. Not merely because of a relatively minor scandal but because she thought this was Violet’s only chance for an acceptable marriage. Which might well have been true but was beside the point nonetheless.

No one ever said aloud what the real problem was between mother and daughter. The true crux of the difficulty between them was simply that the day after her wedding, for the first time in twenty-one years, Violet Branham had at last found her courage, her voice and—thanks to James—her independence. There was nothing Mother hated more than a daughter she could not control.

“How is Father? And Caroline?”

“Your father never changes.” Mother shrugged. Father was a good enough sort, Violet supposed, although she barely knew the man. He might have had more of an interest in his children had they been born sons but as they were female he had abdicated all decisions regarding Violet and her sister to Mother.

“Caroline is about to be engaged to the son of a duke.” Mother paused. “Not his heir, mind you, but a younger son with three brothers ahead of him. Still, he has a significant income and one never knows what might happen in the future. Your sister could be a duchess one day.”

“We can only hope,” Violet murmured. One did wonder if Caroline’s prospective fiancé’s family should be warned as Mother would cheerfully do away with an entire line of succession to achieve her ambitions. If she couldn’t be a duchess herself, a daughter for a duchess would do.

“The engagement will be officially announced at a ball next month, as befitting such an august match. I expect you to attend.” Mother pinned her with a firm look. “Will you still be here?”

“My plans are uncertain at the moment.” She was not about to tell her mother she would be staying in England before she told James.

“Your plans are always uncertain.” Disapproval rang in Mother’s voice. “You wander aimlessly around the world and rarely return to England—where you should be.”

“On the contrary, Mother. It’s not the least bit aimless.”

“It’s not the way a proper wife should behave.” Mother’s lips thinned. “There have been rumors you know.”

“Yes, I know, Mother. You never fail to write me about every rumor or bit of gossip about my husband, for which I am most grateful.”

“The rumors are not just about him.” A warning sounded in Mother’s voice.

“Oh, good. I would hate for him to have all the fun.”

For a long moment Mother glared and Violet glared right back. There was a time when Violet would have backed down. Said something placating and apologized. It was easier and peace would be restored. She’d stopped that years ago when she’d realized capitulating to her mother would make no difference in their relationship but would make a great deal of difference in how Violet felt about herself.

“I assure you, Mother, any rumors about me are greatly exaggerated with no more than a morsel of truth in them at best.”

“I should hope so!” Mother studied her intently. “You and Lord Ellsworth were seen dancing together.”

“He’s an excellent dancer and he is my husband.”

“That has never seemed to matter to you before.”

Violet shrugged. “You wanted me to have a husband and I have one. You never particularly cared how he and I felt about one another.”

Mother ignored her. “And you left the ball together.”

“We are married and we do reside in the same house.”

“No one has ever seen you together before.” Mother’s eyes narrowed as if she were trying to see into her daughter’s very soul. “Have you and your husband reconciled?”

“It’s really none of your concern,” Violet said blithely.

“Of course it’s my concern. I am your mother. I have only your best interests at heart.”

Best interests? It was all Violet could do to keep her temper in check. “Really, Mother? When did you begin having my best interests at heart?”

“I have always put you and your sister above all else,” Mother said in a lofty manner, which might have been most effective had Violet been able to recall even once when that was true.

“Did you put my interest above all else when you forced me to marry a man who didn’t want to marry me?” And there it was. The charge she had avoided making for almost six years.

“You were ruined!” Mother’s eyes widened in indignation. “My insistence on marriage saved you from a life of being alone.”

“And what do you think my life has been thus far?” The words were out of Violet’s mouth before she could stop them. She wasn’t sure why she’d said that. She hadn’t been alone these past years. Far from it. She’d had Cleo and any number of friends abroad. Why, she was the least alone person she knew. And if she didn’t have a husband who cared for her, well, that was the price to be paid for independence.

“Your life would have been perfect if you hadn’t been so headstrong.”

“You know nothing about my life, Mother.”

“I daresay I know far more than you suspect.” Mother stood. “Has your husband finally put his foot down and demanded you return home and pick up your responsibilities as his wife?”

Violet rose to her feet. “My husband does not put his foot down nor would I allow him to do so.”

“That might be one of the problems.” Mother sniffed.

“You simply will not accept that you forfeited the right to ask me anything when you forced me into marriage.”

“Nonetheless, I am asking if you and your husband—”

“Why do you care? What possible difference does it make to you?”

“People talk, Violet, and they’ve been talking about you for nearly six years. It’s a source of constant humiliation for the entire family. Why, we’re lucky your scandalous life hasn’t affected Caroline’s impending engagement!”

“Well, he is only a younger son, Mother.”

“If you and your husband would just come to your senses and—” Mother gasped. “Dear Lord, you’re here to ask for a divorce, aren’t you?”

“That is no concern of yours.”

Mother sucked in a sharp breath. “There has never been a divorce in this family. The scandal will ruin us all. I insist—”

“For God’s sakes, Mother,” Violet snapped, “that’s quite enough. I am not asking for a divorce and yes, I am back to stay.” She drew a deep breath. Mother was an expert at the art of gossip and might well be useful at dissipating any untoward rumors about Violet and James’s apparent reconciliation. “After all these years apart, James and I have at last acknowledged we share the kind of mad, passionate love every woman dreams of! There now, are you happy?”

“Not at all because that’s utter nonsense and I don’t believe you for a moment.” Mother huffed. “One doesn’t stay away for years then wake up one morning to discover true love was there all along.”

“Actually, Mother...” Violet raised her chin. “One does.”

“My dear, darling wife.” As if on cue, James strode into the room, pulled her into his arms and gazed deeply into her eyes. “It’s been but a few hours and yet it seems like an eternity since I left your side.”

“Does it?” What on earth was he doing? Violet gazed up into his blue eyes, dark and endless and...amused?

“When we’re apart, I count the minutes until we’re together again.” He lowered his head to hers as if he intended to kiss her.

Violet’s breath caught.

Mother cleared her throat.

“Oh, I am sorry. I had no idea anyone else was here.” He released Violet, but slid one arm around her waist in a blatant display of affection. Blatant displays of affection were every bit as bad in Mother’s view as wives not being proper.

“James, you remember my mother.”

“Yes of course.” His arm tightened around her in a manner that could only be called possessive. It was oddly satisfying.

“Lord Ellsworth.” Mother eyed him suspiciously. “I should take my leave.”

“Delightful to see you again.” He nodded toward the door. “Andrews will see you out.”

“Violet, I expect your attendance at your sister’s ball.”

“Good day, Mother.”

“Good day, Lady Cranton,” James said and nuzzled the side of Violet’s neck as if Mother wasn’t there. A shiver ran down her spine. She really should protest but how would that look?

“Dear Lord,” Mother muttered and marched toward the door.

Violet steeled herself against the melting sensation of James’s lips against that surprisingly sensitive spot where her neck met her shoulder and waited until the parlor door closed behind her mother. Even then it was far harder to get the words out than one would expect. She drew a deep breath. “What do you think you’re doing?”