Page 83 of The Viscount and the Vicar's Daughter
She could not allow this lunacy to proceed any further.
That he should love her?
How was it possible?
She circled her arms around his neck and made not the slightest protest when he lifted her up against him so that her bosom was pressed against his chest and her toes curled in the air. This was how every girl dreamed to be kissed, completely taken in by this all-consuming and shattering craving.
Just this one time.
Just this one memory.
But the nagging worry would not leave her.
What if he truly did love her?
How far did he mean to take it? Marriage between them was unthinkable because of all the obstacles they would face, the most serious being the rift it would cause between him and his family.
She would never forgive herself if this happened.
But if those obstacles were overcome, could they build a life together?
Or would this moment of bliss wash away with tomorrow’s rain?
CHAPTER 14
“MRS. STRINGER, YOU’REback,” Alexander said as the noon hour approached the following day, surprised to find her in the kitchen with no sign of Viola. “Welcome. I hope you enjoyed your visit with your sister.”
She bobbed a curtsy. “Thank you, m’lord. I did. But I’m pleased to return to familiar surroundings. I hear Miss Ruskin’s cooking won raves.”
He nodded. “She was the bright spot of the house party.”
This was true for more reasons than merely her cooking abilities. He’d seen off the last of the diamonds and their families this morning, and should have been rather pleased with the outcome. If not for his turmoil over Viola, he would have been.
All in all, the house party had been a success. Lady Aurora had caught the eye of the duke’s son and Alexander would not be surprised if an announcement of their betrothal appeared in the London papers within a month’s time.
Lady Charlotte had captured Lord Hythe’s heart, although it was more likely the hefty dowry to be handed over by Duke Nevins upon the silly girl’s marriage that tipped the balance in her favor. Hythe’s estate was in shambles and he needed that infusion of capital to restore it. But his friend also did not seem to mind Lady Charlotte’s baby talk or her childishly coquettish manner. Perhaps it would turn out to be a happy match, especially if she remained in London while he was off in Yorkshire repairing his beloved holdings.
“Are you looking for Miss Ruskin, m’lord?” Mrs. Stringer asked. “She’s gone back to the vicarage.”
He tried not to appear surprised, for he had expected Viola to send word or stop by his study to advise him of that fact before making her departure. “I see. Of course, she must be eager to return to her father.”
Not wishing to appear too eager himself, he spent a few more minutes talking to Mrs. Stringer and the kitchen staff, commending them on a job well done. But he did not like the idea of Viola running off without saying a word to him.
He decided to go after her.
“Greaves, I’ll be at the vicarage if anyone asks for me. I shouldn’t be long, just want to make certain Miss Ruskin lacks nothing for her father.”
“Very good, my lord. What shall I say to Lord Trent if he asks for you?”
His family and Lady Withnall were to stay on for another few days, and he was looking forward to at least one or two relaxing afternoons and evenings with them. Of course, the food would be a step down after Viola’s amazing meals, but Mrs. Stringer was a good soul and her food was quite palatable. “You can tell him where I’ve gone and that I will return within the hour.”
He ordered his horse saddled and rode off toward the vicarage.
It did not take him long to spot Viola, for she was toting a bag of her clothes in one hand and a basket of her herbs, spices, and baking utensils in the other. They were obviously too heavy for the slight girl to manage on her own. But she was too stubborn to admit defeat and appeared determined to struggle home without anyone’s assistance. She was walking so slowly, it took him no time to catch up to her even though his horse was moving at a casual lope.
He frowned as he dismounted beside her. “Why did you not ask Wilson to bring you home in one of the wagons?”
She blushed, or perhaps her cheeks were red from exertion.
