Page 36 of Becoming Lady Dalton
Viola shook herself back to life like a swan in the Thames, fluffing its feathers before setting out for the opposite shore. She walked on, though not very far. Viola knew what she had to do. Samuel Cartwright was still alive enough to cause trouble for her if anyone found out about his continued existence.
A bell above the shop door tinkled with a cheer that scraped her nerves raw. “How can I help you, madam?”
Viola hesitated. Her sister would forgive her. But her sister’s husband... Tamed though he was, Edward was a new earl trying to prove himself capable of running an estate. Though no one had heard from Richard since the funeral, it didn’t take great imagination to think he would pop up to cause more trouble at the first opportunity. Edward didn’t need the burden of a sister-in-law helping herself to funds when he’d entrusted her with the Briarcliff account.
I will find a way to make this right, Viola swore. She needed time to figure out how to tell Matthew his father was still alive. The price of time was fifty pounds she didn’t have. This wasn’t the last demand he’d make of her. Samuel would ask for more and more. He would bleed her dry and leave her weeping until this time, he took her to debtors’ prison with him. Viola watched her body as though she was disconnected from herself. With luck, the man would die before anyone found out she wasn’t a widow after all.
You owe your husband a decent death. Nothing more.
“I should like to place an order against the earl of Briarcliff’s account. I am on the ledger as the lady’s borrower.” Viola skimmed the shop shelves in search of an object easily pawned. Dish wares and china were simple to exchange but had little secondhand value. She needed something portable that could be sold for scrap metal.
“Certainly. The Briarcliff family has been a valued customer for two generations. I had understood the new townhouse wouldn’t be ready for appointments until after the new year.” The shop clerk looked pleased to receive a new order.
“That is when the majority of the work will be finished, yes. Today, I’m beginning to look at examples for order.”
“Excellent, my lady.”
“It’s Mrs. Cartwright, if you please. I am not so fine as my sister.” Viola flashed a winning smile, though inside she was as dormant as a tree in winter. “This item here is a lovely gem. Will you tell me about it?”
She pointed through the glass case to a child’s silver spoon, cup and bowl set.
“Ah, my lady has excellent taste. We still produce our wares the traditional way. Our apprentices have seven years of training and pass an examination before they become full smiths. Unlike lesser quality goods manufactured since the repeal of the Apprenticeship Act,” he said darkly as he displayed the wares on a velvet cloth.
Viola turned the heavy bowl in her fingers, judging the weight when it was melted. Not worth fifty pounds, but close. Together, the three items might get her near the amount Samuel had demanded. Time. She wasn’t buying silver. She was buying time with her family. Asking for help would put her family at risk. No matter how much she loathed him, Samuel was sick, and he was her husband.
“It’s lovely. This is a gift for a friend of the countess. She asked me to find an appropriate bauble. This would make a very favorable impression.”
“The workmanship on this set is exquisite. A special set for a very special child.”
“Box it up, please.” Viola’s command was ash in her mouth.
“Would you like a special mark applied in honor of the child’s family?”
“No, thank you.” It was pointless when all she planned to do was take it down the street and pawn the thing to be melted down. Viola signed her name to a slip of paper and accepted the heavy box. The deed was done. There was no turning back.
19
“Is everything all right this evening?”Piers whispered the next evening. He wanted to wrap Viola close to his body and hold her there until their souls entwined. Much to his chagrin, Viola had spent the first half of the evening’s afternoon musicale and dinner party avoiding him.
This was not the sort of event he was inclined to attend. These events were the purview of elderly ladies who hosted early to avoid the scrum of more popular balls later in the night. Yet with Lady Margaret singing this evening, Evendaw had explicitly asked him to attend, thus furthering the unwanted fiction that they were courting. Piers had to put an end to the charade of their courtship, tonight.
He’d almost declined. But then, his putative friend had said, “Mrs. Cartwright will be there.” As if he’d known there was more to Viola and Piers than simple friendship. The one thing he wanted less than rumors about him and Margaret were rumors about him and Viola.
Viola glanced over and flashed a brief smile. “Of course, your lordship.”
“You are not my maidservant,” he bristled under his breath.
Viola chuckled. She’d known how he would react, the minx. Still, despite her display of lighthearted humor, it was clear that a weight pressed upon her. Piers wished he had the liberty to ask what the cause of her heavy heart, but Viola had made clear that was not his purview.
He wondered how much she’d been hiding behind her façade of happiness all these months. Piers struggled for words to convince her to confide in him, but they died without breath. He had no right to force a grown woman to do anything, and coaxing had gotten him nowhere with Viola.
Frustrated, he drew his spine straight and told himself that wasn’t entirely true. Piers had successfully pried all sorts of secrets out of Viola over the past couple of weeks. Some she’d offered up on her own, like the existence of her daughter. But her heart was still closed to him and as long as he didn’t know the reason why, Piers knew he’d remain unsatisfied.
“Lady Gracie and my grandmother have a bet going that you’ll propose to Margaret before Christmas.”
“You may tell their eminences that whoever bet I wouldn’t has won. The loser had best pay up.” Piers sipped claret. It was too warm, not quite reminding him of mulled wine, his favorite part of the Christmas holiday. Gwen would be happy to see her niece. She adored children. What utterly rotten luck the doctor had forbidden her to marry or have children.
“Lady Gracie owes Gran ten sovereigns, then.” Viola smirked.
