Page 7 of The Devil and the Heiress
He said it with such vigor that she was momentarily stumped. She couldn’t refute him, because she would not have Teddy now under any circumstances.
“I simply want what is best for you, darling,” he continued. “A secure marriage with a secure future. A home with a respectable social position for you and your children. Is that so very terrible?”
“Yes, it is if it means that my wishes do not count for anything.” She was disappointed that she had allowed her emotions to get the better of her, but even more disappointed that her parents were not satisfied now that they would most certainly be getting a duke for a son-in-law.
They wanted more. That more meant that she would be bait on a hook.
“Will you at least grant me the opportunity to present a suitor for your consideration? Believe me, Violet, no one wants to force you to do anything.”
Violet took in a steadying breath. She had learned from their ordeal with the Duke of Rothschild that outwardly thwarting their parents had gotten them nowhere. She would have to be smart about this, which meant she needed to get a handle on her emotions. In that spirit, she said, “Fine. Aslong as we both understand that I won’t be forced into anything, then I will cooperate.”
“Thank you in advance for your cooperation.” He smiled and indicated the rosewood chair. “Now, could we please continue?”
She sat, but as she worked, her mind was consumed with the issue. Her parents had their duke with Rothschild. They should be satisfied. But if it turned out they weren’t and insisted on her marrying, then escape would be necessary. Was she truly prepared to go to such an extreme? The glimmer of a plan began to form.
Chapter 3
His lordship regarded her with the same curiosity with which she observed him, cautious but bewitched, nonetheless. She was not his usual quarry, but this was not his usual hunt.
V. Lennox,An American and the London Season
Not only had Lord Ware been eyeing Violet’s cleavage all evening, but he was scowling at every man who dared to dance with her. The look did not suit him, making him appear a petulant adolescent with a hairline in imminent danger of receding. When the waltz she danced with Lord Atherton ended, she requested he escort her to the opposite end of the ballroom from Ware. And that was exactly how she had phrased the request. Much to Lord Atherton’s delight, if the curious tug at the corners of his mouth was any indication.
When he gave a stiff bow and left her, Violet smiled at everyone she passed, slowly making her way toward the terrace. Every one of these stately townhomes seemed to have a terrace. This one ought to, but between the bodies ahead of her she could only see a row of tall windows with no doors. Damn.
She turned on her heel and changed course toward a corridor that would lead her to the ladies’ dressing room.Anywhere for a few minutes of peace without Ware making eyes at her bosom. His head was already bobbing between the crowd on the other side of the dance floor in search of her. Spurred on by her girlish delight in thwarting him, she nearly ran from the room. A laugh broke from her throat when she left the room and loped down the deserted corridor, mindful of the way her shoes pinched her toes.
Wouldn’t it be lovely to meet Lord Leigh roaming these halls? He always seemed to be skulking about at these events. Never dancing. This would be the perfect scene to write with her heroine escaping to an assignation with Lord Lucifer. Her face burned hot at the mere thought, and she giggled again at her own foolishness. Aside from his physical attributes, she didn’t care for the man. All that wickedness couldn’t be healthy for a person.
Turning into the first open door she came to, she found herself in a salon surrounded by priceless artwork on either side. It was a room that called for graveness, so she stifled her laugh as she hurried through it. The next room was similar, but with one very important difference. There were already two people inside, and the very angry man said, “I cannot believe I allowed you to come tonight. You are an embarrassment.”
Violet pulled up short in the open doorway and meant to back out of the room before they could see her, but she realized the golden-haired woman was Camille, who was with her much older husband. He faced partially away from Violet, but his distinctive muttonchops made him hard to mistake for anyone else.
“I have nothing to do with your embarrassment, Hereford. You’re overreacting.” Camille crossed her arms over her chest and raised her chin, but her expression seemed stricken. Twin spots of color rose high on her cheeks.
“Do not tell me I am overreacting. My wife strives to be a strumpet. Not only do you traipse about London at all hours without a care for your reputation or mine, but themoment I allow you out of the house, you are throwing yourself at every man who dances with you. We are at a ball, Camille, not a brothel.”
Camille’s gasp was audible from across the room. “How dare you? I only danced, and there was absolutely nothing improper about our conversation.”
Hereford’s voice hardened. “I will decide what is proper and what isn’t. And this is not a conversation I will have with you here. You are going home for the evening.”
“Hereford, you’re being unreasonable.” She rolled her eyes. When he moved toward her, Camille took a step back. “I’ve done nothing wrong, and I’m staying here. I was having a lovely time until now.”
“You are going home. I will simply tell everyone you developed a headache.” He followed her retreat and took her arm in what appeared to be a viselike grip.
Violet flinched at the contact, wondering if it was a sign of further unseen violence. Uncertain what to do, but knowing she had to intervene, Violet stepped farther into the salon and said, “Camille?” Both heads whipped toward her. Camille’s expression was horrified, and Hereford’s merely a reflection of his anger, but at least he dropped his hold Camille’s arm. “Is everything all right?” Violet asked.
The very air stood still, simmering with tension as it waited for someone to act. Finally, Hereford turned back to his wife. “I shall go have the carriage summoned. Do not force me to come and retrieve you.” Ignoring Violet, he left through the far door, letting it slam behind him.
Camille’s face crumpled the moment he disappeared, her hands coming up to muffle her low sob. Violet hurried over and pulled her friend into her arms. “That was awful. Are you injured?”
Camille sagged against her friend for a moment, accepting the comfort before she pulled back. Giving her head a shake, she wiped at a tear that threatened to fall. “No, he didn’t hurt me.” Though the pale skin above her elbow-length gloves was pink from his grip, it didn’t appear as if it would be bruised.
“Does he hurt you, Camille? Are you safe with him?”
“He doesn’t harm me, not in the way you mean.”
“In what way, then?”
