Page 56 of Untaming Lady Violet
Chapter 23
Henry Bowman twirled Violet around in a lively Scottish reel, passing her off occasionally to one of the Buchanan cousins.
Tristan leaned a shoulder against the parlor’s doorjamb. A scowl darkened his face as he watched young Lawrence swing her around until her laughter rang out above that of the other girls. When Lawrence let her go, Henry caught her back up again, her hands clasped tight in his.
It was damned hard not to stalk into the middle of the swirling couples and snatch Violet from their grasps. And while he stood sulking, contemplating this unreasonable fit of possessiveness for a woman he had no claim over, the duke took up a stance beside him.
The way Violet left him in the forest the day before still rankled a bit, although he wasn’t sure why. The confidence in her words, in her very essence, should have thrilled him. And while it did on some level, on another he could not dismiss how easily she walked away from him.
“Longleigh, the fierceness of your gaze is enough to strike fear in a man, even those unaware of the danger,” Richeforte said with a smile coloring his voice. “Why not just toss the lady over your shoulder, carry her out of here, and be done with it?”
“What the devil are you talking about, Richeforte?” Tristan spared the man an aggravated glance as he leaned against the wall beside him.
“The Everstone girl, of course. I simply wonder why you do not take matters into your own hands.”
Tristan said nothing, even when Nicholas chuckled.
“Ah! I am correct then, despite what my dear wife told me. You and Lady Violet have formed an attachment. I wanted to make mention of it earlier, but was unsure if your father is aware of matters. How long has this been going on?”
Tristan’s scowl grew even more savage. “Nothing is going on.”
Nicholas’s arms crossed over his chest. “Those heated glares of yours indicate otherwise. And do you see the unintended consequences? The gossips believe they are witnessing some type of quarrel between you and me.” The duke laughed beneath his breath. He then executed a slight bow for the benefit of two ladies whispering behind their fans while staring at them. “If you would only claim the lady, you can avoid all those unnecessary rumors.”
“Damn you, Richeforte. I’ve no intention of claiming any woman.” He’d already been forced to make that clear to Fiona Blackerby. The lady was more persistent than he’d given her credit. Earlier, he abruptly, but politely, left her in an alcove while she detailed how they might meet for a private rendezvous in the conservatory.
“Neither did I before Grace Willsdown decided differently. It’s no use denying it, for I recognize your expression. I wore the same not too long ago.” Nicholas’s emerald gaze swept the large parlor, softening when he spied his wife near the terrace doors. “Damnation, if I don’t wear it still. My sweet duchess bedevils me every moment. And how I adore her because of it.”
A reluctant smile eased Tristan’s frown. “That is understandable. Her Grace is an exceptional woman of great beauty and kindness. You are lucky to have won her. I say to devil with the gossips if they cannot comprehend my genuine happiness for you.”
“I know, my friend.” Nicholas rested a hand on Tristan’s shoulder. “I’m grateful we put that disagreement to rest.” His expression was somber. “Grace says Lady Violet has captured your heart, and I find myself in complete accord. I anticipate you will offer for her hand soon?”
“You are as bad as my own father,” Tristan grumbled. “Indeed, my entire family has conspired together in this effort to push me into marriage. I think it is an obsessive sickness with them, to be honest.”
“Happens to all of us, eventually. And in your case, Lady Violet is an excellent choice to spend the rest of your life with. Lady Celia adores her. She meets your parents’ approval, which is always a massive advantage. She’s gentle and sweet. It appears she’s as infatuated with you as you are with her. And her very nature screams for someone to take care of her. To take her in hand and offer protection. Which compliments your own desire to become a lady’s veritable knight in shining armor. Symbolically, of course. No one expects that you will begin jousting simply to win the lady’s hand.”
“And you’ve discovered all this in the short time you’ve been here at Darby Meadows?” Tristan could not help the mocking tone in his voice. It was troubling that Nicholas could see through him so clearly. Was he so transparent in his dealings with women? No doubt he enjoyed a good romp as well as any other man, but deep inside his soul, Tristan found Nicholas’s words frighteningly accurate.
Nicholas’s eyebrow arched. “It’s quite noticeable, really. Even now, while disparaging of the very idea you and Violet have formed a connection, you can scarcely take your eyes off her.
“Pardon my bluntness, but you are wrong, Richeforte,” Tristan retorted with a slight grimace. He forced himself to look away each time Violet spun past in another man’s arms. “Lady Violet is not the meek young lady she appears, and I’ve no interest in having her as a wife. Any perceived affection between us is simply for the purpose of dissuading Lord Gadley from taking her as a wife. You see, she and I have an agreement of sort. I am assisting her in avoiding marriage to the man.”
The stare Nicholas leveled on him was unflinching. “And what do you gain from such an unusual arrangement?” In a tone suddenly cold as ice, the duke murmured, “Answer carefully, Longleigh. Very carefully.”
“Do you think I would debauch an innocent?” Tristan demanded, then quickly added, “Do not respond to that. It is simply a ploy, Richeforte. That’s all. One devised for her sake only.”
“Then you are doing a poor job of it. Not once have you claimed Lady Violet for a dance. Or even procured a glass of lemonade for her. All you’ve done is stand and glare at the gentlemen pursuing her favor. How precisely will this work to dissuade Gadley from wanting to wed the girl?”
“You are a meddlesome bastard, Richeforte,” Tristan growled.
No one needed to know just how far he’d gone in debauching Violet, the liberties he’d taken. Scanning the crowd to hide his unease, Tristan caught his mother’s eye where she stood beside the earl.
Tristan forced himself to return her happy smile. The countess did adore Violet, to the point she regarded her as another daughter. That attention was the reason behind Violet’s many visits to Darby Meadows, her closeness with his family. Lord and Lady Everstone believed their only child safe from scandal while in Lady Darby’s care. She stood as chaperone in their absence. Indeed, much of the credit for Violet’s unsullied reputation was because of his mother’s influence.
A reputation he seemed destined to destroy simply because of his irrational desire for the girl.
Unexpected nausea roiled inside Tristan’s stomach, lurching high in his throat. The memory of everything he’d done choked him with guilt. Acrid bitterness washed through his mouth in a fleeting instant.
What he had done was monstrous. What he would do if given another chance was far worse.
