Page 3 of Untaming Lady Violet
When he leveled a baleful glare back in the direction of the manor house, Violet sucked in a low breath. Tearing her gaze away from the hardened planes of the viscount’s face was too difficult, so she settled herself against the trunk of the tree, content with observing him from this safe distance.
Her fingers twitched as they dug into the oak’s bark.
Even angry, the man was incredibly handsome. Perhaps more so because of it. Violet could imagine the rich, chocolate-colored waves of his hair spilling over her palms, like reams of rough silk if she were to tug his head close to hers for a kiss.
It was one of her favorite fantasies.
“I can’t believe Mother is pushing this issue. And Celia, the meddling traitor...”
The viscount again swatted the branch against his thigh.
Violet’s gaze drifted helplessly over his impressive form as he turned the stick over and over in his palms. The viscount was an amazingly gifted artist, and his hands fascinated her. She couldn’t stop looking at them. They were large and strong and so incredibly talented.
That gift was rarely shared with those outside his family. Violet counted herself lucky to be among the few to see his canvases.
The pieces he created were breathtaking slices of his inner thoughts. Violet felt voyeuristic gazing at them, wondering if it was a violation of his privacy the first time Celia showed her his studio.
Now, she dreamily wondered how it might feel to have the viscount’s touch brush her skin. Would his fingers be warm and calloused from holding paintbrushes and bridle reins? Or cool and unblemished like Lord Gadley’s?
Lord Gadley.
A fine tremor of distaste shimmied down Violet’s spine. The man her parents would have her wed shared little in common with the viscount. Other than being of the male species and born of nobility, the two men were as different as night and day. Unfortunately, her parents had decided all solutions to their financial woes rested at Lord Gadley’s feet.
Violet recalled her father’s admonishment the morning she headed for Darby Meadows without them.
“Violet, it will be a stroke of luck on your part should you land Gadley. And a stroke of genius on mine. Remember our situation, young lady.”
“Oh, do try harder, won’t you, Violet? Won’t you try to be charming and less like an overstuffed ottoman waiting for someone’s propped feet when next he sees you?”Her mother’s tone echoed her father’s long-suffering exasperation.“It’s said he prefers a girl with a bit of spirit, but your father has extolled the virtues of a quiet, dutiful wife. One must hope the lure of our family name overcomes the reality of gaining a pretty, but dull, wife in the bargain.
Violet could only nod, eyes prickling with tears. She was always obedient when following her parents’ wishes, although secretly she hoped Lord Gadley never offered for her hand. Her unsuitability on the Marriage Mart was a failing Violet faced daily. Landing a wealthy spouse was her responsibility. One her father reminded her of with increasing frequency over the last six months.
Only once did Violet dare question the need to marry at all.
Her mother’s lips thinned while waving herself in an agitated manner using a red Chinese silk fan. The earl’s face turned a shade identical to the fan. The awful color did not stop spreading until it reached the tips of his ears.
“It is what dutiful daughters do for their families.”Father’s manner was blustery and indignant. “To further social standings. To repair old feuds. To gain financial freedom and repay debts.”
Repay debts. That part worried Violet the most. Those two words caused a lack of sleep over too many nights and left her acutely aware of her worth as a daughter.
Whether love was part and parcel or not, Violet must marry. Whethershewished it or not, she was a sacrifice.
The fact she did not want the man her parents selected was inconsequential.
Questioning their choice required courage she did not possess. Their motives remained a murky unknown and Violet felt queasy gaining further insight into her parents’ actions. Perhaps her ignorance was for the better.
She’d not thought of Lord Gadley at all during this brief respite from London, at least until this very moment. Instead of worrying over unwanted engagements, she spent the past few days immersed in books, enjoying the springtime of the Kent countryside, and rising as early as she pleased for breakfast chocolate and crumpets.
How easy it was pretending her life was not on a collision course with fate. Until the viscount below her began cursing the institution of marriage, she had ignored it. His one-sided argument was a rude reminder that Violet’s idyllic escape would soon be over.
Yes. Over. Along with any illusions of freedom. Lord Gadley would arrive at Darby Meadows. Father and Mother would follow. And an engagement would likely be announced shortly thereafter, provided she charmed the man into offering for her.
“Damn it all!”
The viscount’s curse drew Violet’s attention away from her depressing thoughts. When he raked a hand through the thick strands of his hair, she nearly sighed aloud at the romantically tragic figure he cast.
But then his pacing moved him out of eyesight.
Heart thumping fast, Violet leaned away from the tree so she could keep him in view.
