Page 57 of Becoming Lady Dalton
Matthew latched onto her like a barnacle as Piers and Edward hustled into the vehicle and slammed the door.
“Driver!” called Edward. The men shared the opposite seat. Viola worked one arm free from Matthew’s embrace to clasp her sister’s hand as the coach lurched into motion.
A cry went up.
“Bloodthirsty bastards,” Edward muttered under his breath.
“They were going to hang you, weren’t they, Mum?” Matthew asked. She would master her terror, for his sake. Though her heart pounded in her throat, Viola hugged him and kissed his head.
“No. They weren’t because I am not a thief.”
Harper squeezed her hand. The coach broke free from the crowd, and the horses picked up the pace.
“I can’t wait to see what the headlines say tomorrow,” Viola said wryly. The band around her ribs eased as safety beckoned. The past four days seemed unreal, like a nightmare from which she was beginning to awaken. “I don’t suppose I’ve done a very good job of restoring Briarcliff’s good name, have I?”
“Vi, don’t joke,” Harper begged. Even in the cramped darkness of the coach, Viola detected a new line of worry furrowed between her brows. “I nearly lost you. We all did.”
Viola scanned the faces she loved best in the world, her heart brimming with emotion. She didn’t have words. A tear tickled its way down her cheek.
“Impossible,” she scoffed. But her attempt at insouciance was belied by the wobble in her voice. “You won’t be rid of me that easily.”
And then, embarrassingly enough, she was crying. Edward, typically, had forgotten a handkerchief, and Harper was so wedged against the wall she couldn’t reach her reticule. Piers, though, offered a handkerchief. Viola accepted it gratefully. There was no ladylike dabbing at the corners of her eyes for her, oh, no. Viola soaked the thing in less than a minute.
“You’ve been through a great deal these past weeks. We know about Samuel,” Harper said when Viola had recovered her wits enough to speak.
“I went to visit Papa. Did you know he was sick?” Matthew interjected. His kicking feet got twisted up in Viola’s skirt. Her poor child. If only he would stop fidgeting long enough to let her comfort him.
“Yes, dear. I know. Was it a nice visit? Did you wear a mask?”
“Aunt Harpy made me.” He pulled a face. “Didn’t like it, though.”
“It’s Lady Briarcliff to you, young man, until you can speak your aunt’s name with respect,” Edward interjected gruffly.
“It’s all right, Edward, let the boy be,” Harper replied gently.
All the while, Piers observed her with a warm gaze like burnt sugar. Though his role in saving her from destruction was yet unknown to her, Viola knew he was the core of the effort.
Her hero.
She’d asked Piers not to sacrifice for her, but if he hadn’t ignored her wishes, she might be dead now.Wouldbe dead. Between her conviction and Sam’s illness, Matthew could’ve been orphaned this Christmas.
Viola owed him her life. It was past time she stopped running.
Yet there remained the matter of her ailing husband.
“Where are we going?” Viola asked. She supposed she was homeless, now that Baroness Landor had disowned her. She was therefore surprised when her sister responded, “To Landor House.”
Viola cast Harper a questioning glance.
“Our grandmother has had a change of heart, thanks to Lord Dalton’s intervention.”
“Please. We are amongst friends. My name is Piers, Lady Briarcliff,” Piers responded.
“I shall if you promise to do the same,” Harper said, then pressed a closed fist to her lips. “Stop the carriage.”
“Oh!”
Viola reached past her sister to open the window. Harper retched into the street, in the most unladylike display Viola could ever recall seeing.
