Page 80 of Untaming Lady Violet
Appearing perilously close to fainting, Lady Everstone retreated to her rooms, still sobbing into her handkerchief and aided by an unsympathetic Lady Darby.
Lord Darby had turned to Tristan before leaving the room as well, saying rather sternly that he expected his son would do the honorable thing.
Whatever that statement implied, Violet had no wish to find out. But surely, Lord Darby did not think Tristan would actually marryher.
“You will be free of me. And I will be free of you,” Violet said, hoping the sorrow deep inside her did not leach out through the words.
“Fiona wants you badly,” she continued. “So desperately that she will lie to have you. And had I not intruded in the conservatory; you would not be having this conversation with me now. If you would admit our relationship has reached the end of its tether, Tristan, we could move on. We knew when this began it could not last.”
“I am expected to let you go without a second thought,” A scowl marred his features, “so you may sacrifice yourself? For what purpose? For whose benefit? That animal who insulted you by calling you a whore? You know as well as I do that your father will not stop until you are someone’s wife and the debts his irresponsibility created have been paid.”
“They cannot force me into anything.” Holding onto that stubborn belief was probably naïve, but Violet did not care.
Tristan laughed., “They can and they will, Violet. Let me handle this in the manner I see fit.”
“Fiona was waiting in my room last night when I left you. She said before she could meet you in the conservatory to discuss your secret engagement, I intercepted you. And after throwing myself at you, you took what was freely offered. As any man would.” Violet’s smile was derisive. “She called me a whore, which is no worse than being a wallflower, I suppose.”
Tristan advanced on Violet so quickly she retreated from simple reflex. But the attempted evasion was of no use. Both her shoulders were within his grasp before she could gasp in surprise.
“Violet, utter one more word regarding Fiona Blackerby and her vicious lies, and I shall turn you across my knee,” he growled. “If kisses and caresses do not convince you of my interest in you, I’m positive a spanking will do the trick.”
“You would beat me?” Violet cried out.
“A spanking is not a beating.” Tristan pulled her in closer, tighter. “It will clarify matters for you.”
The heat of his body was scorching, and Violet realized suddenly just how exhausted he appeared; how bloodshot his eyes were. Notwithstanding his tussle with William, Tristan was disheveled, his cologne a faint memory beneath the remnants of new and old whiskey.
“I don’t deserve to be treated as property.” Violet’s chin rose higher. “Gadley swore he would punish me for any defiance. I see you are no different.”
“The difference, Violet, is your value to me. It is without price, and I will pay your father’s debt if it means saving you from William Gadley,” he muttered, cupping her chin in the palm of his hand. “And property or not, you would be safer with me. Do you understand what I am saying?”
“I do.” Unsuccessful in jerking away from his grasp, she glared at him. “Since I am now ruined for polite society, you shall pay to have me occupy your bed. And I must endure physical punishment as proof you prefer me as a mistress rather than Fiona as a wife. In the end, you would own me as you would a herd of sheep.”
The taunt was a reminder of his cruel words the night before, and he winced to hear them.
“St. Simon’s Cross, but you are the most stubborn woman I’ve ever come across,” Tristan swore roughly. “Have you not heard a word I’ve said?” He gave her a little shake.
“Of course, I heard you. You don’t love me.” Violet’s manner was one of stone. “And we’ve already established how foolish I am to have fallen in love with you.”
“Neither do you love Gadley, but that was no obstacle when you were to become his wife,” he shot back. “So, here it is, Violet. The only solution I can offer is to marry you. The question remains, however, if you will marryme.”
* * *
Violet dressedfor dinner that evening with grim determination.
She would not hide in her room. She’d done nothing wrong, other than following what her heart demanded. The only remorse she could muster was a result of falling in love with Tristan. Their intimate moments shared no part of her regret.
A soft knock interrupted Bridgett’s buttoning of Violet’s gown.
“Shall I answer, milady?” the maid inquired with a concerned glance toward the door.
Violet nodded. “If it is Mother again, you may let her in.”
Earlier, she’d been too raw and emotional to engage in an argument. She merely listened as Mother cried and wailed and, in the process, the jaw-dropping extent of their family’s debt was laid bare.
Violet could hardly believe the amounts were true. The knowledge made her physically ill. Worse was realizing her mother considered her nothing but a pawn used for gain.
Violet expected Father would remain emotionally detached. He’d never shown any affection for his own daughter, but discovering both parents cared not one whit for her wellbeing was a shock.
