Page 62 of The Viscount and the Vicar's Daughter
She frowned at him, her face quite beautiful in the silvery moonlight. “You ought to be taking this more seriously.”
“I am trying. Lady Charlotte talks like a baby. I think I would hang myself if I were stuck marrying her.”
Viola tried not to laugh, but a few chuckles made their way out. “She might stop if you asked her. I’m sure she plays it up because most men seem to like it. What about Lady Alicia? What do you find wrong with her?”
He did not wish to disclose the fact that Alicia was not a virgin. Not that he would condemn the girl for making one mistake, but she appeared to be the sort who enjoyed men and was not shy about giving them her body. She would never be faithful to him, assuming he made the mistake of marrying her. “I haven’t had much opportunity to speak to her. Perhaps I will spend a little time with her tomorrow. But not before I introduce you to my family. I will summon you shortly after breakfast, as you suggested.”
She nodded. “I had better return to the kitchen. We’re just finishing setting up for tomorrow, and then I must go to bed. It has been a long day for me.”
“I won’t delay you.” He gave her cheek a light caress. “Thank you, Viola. You’ve been the bright spot throughout. Sweet dreams.”
“And to you, my lord.”
She slipped out of his arms and hurried away.
He watched her leave, following her lithe shadow as she disappeared inside and left him standing alone in the dark of night. As he walked through the garden, he thought he heard someone in the bushes off to his left.
He diverted his course and went to inspect, but whoever had been lurking there was gone and it was too dark to make out any footprints.
He shrugged it off.
Perhaps it was one of the kitchen staff grabbing some air.
Or Lady Withnall snooping again.
Yes, she was the likely culprit.
He would not put it past her, for she was already onto Viola like a bloodhound on the scent.
He took note of his guests when he returned to the parlor, but they were all accounted for. Still, one of them could have run back in here just before he arrived. It mattered little. Even if he had been seen with Viola, who would care if he cavorted with his cook?
But George Haworth’s words came back to haunt him.
He had to be more careful for her sake.
What would he do if her reputation was tainted because of him?
CHAPTER 11
AFTER BREAKFAST PREPARATIONSthe following morning, Viola hurried to her quarters to wash up and fix her hair. She had been up quite early baking buns, some of which were sprinkled with cinnamon and others contained an apricot filling. These were to go along with the eggs, kippers, sausages, and oatmeal set out on the dining room buffet for the guests to enjoy as they came downstairs in drips and drabs for breakfast.
She tried not to appear on edge about meeting the viscount’s family. This was the first time she had been put to the test, having to prove her capabilities to others. As vicar’s daughter, the townsfolk of Ardley merely accepted whatever she had to offer. But this was very different, this need to impress members of the Upper Crust so they might recommend her for a position in an elegant household.
But as the minutes ticked by, no one came to fetch her.
Had Lord Ardley forgotten about her?
Well, he had his hands full with three diamonds to court under the watchful eye of his family, not to mention his other guests to entertain. They were now on day two of the party and some guests would start leaving by day four.
He had little time to waste.
She suppressed her disappointment, donned her apron and mobcap once more, and returned to the kitchen to begin preparations for the midday meal. “Miss Ruskin, is something wrong?” one of the girls assisting her in the kitchen asked.
“No, it must be the onions irritating my eyes.”
The girl said nothing, merely looked at her askance since no one had started chopping up onions yet. She took a deep breath, afraid she was about to burst into tears. “I’ll be right back.”
She ran out of the kitchen, making up some excuse about picking herbs in the conservatory. To her relief, she was alone in there. She found herself a shady corner of the sunlit room and allowed her tears to fall. “Viola,” she said between ragged breaths, “you are such a ninny.”
