Page 57 of These Violet Delights
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They are in the very wrath
of love, and they will together. Clubs cannot part
them.
As You Like It—Act 5, Scene 2
When the scene ended and the crowd began to lose interest and depart, Violet expected Alasdair to remove his hand, yet he must have been lost in thought or otherwise distracted, for he remained frozen there. She grinned and looked up at him, waiting for him to notice they were alone.
“Do you dance, Mr. Kerr?” she asked.
He blinked once, hard, and jerked his hand away from hers. “No,” he said. “Partners find my height troublesome.” Something at the other end of the gallery drew his attention, and he abruptly bowed, then strode away. “If you will excuse me briefly, Miss Arden.”
Violet didn’t have a chance to respond. The cold just on the other side of the gallery wall intruded, and she drew inside herself, wondering what had perturbed him so suddenly. She felt silly just standing and waiting for him to return, but shealso feared that any movement whatsoever would break the fragile spell of the night.
“Who was that gentleman?” Regina asked, slinking out of the shadows and to her side. Miss Ramos appeared at her other arm. Violet stared down at her shoes, nervous.
“Was he not the source of all the commotion?” Miss Ramos asked.
“Mr. Kerr’s family occupies the estate just north of here,” said Violet, trying to will the blood out of her cheeks and ears, for she knew the blushing gave her away. “There is some old enmity between his family and my aunt’s.”
“And he is to inherit?” Regina pressed.
“He already has.”
“And that inheritance was substantial?”
“It was.”
“Este, how stimulating,” Miss Ramos whispered, wiggling.
“How delicious,” added Regina. She tapped her pointed chin with one finger, then dug that same finger into Violet’s shoulder. “Who doesn’t adore a forbidden love?”
Violet rolled her eyes. “We aren’t in love, Regina.”
The two ladies shared a look over Violet’s head, then erupted with laughter, falling all over her and squishing her between them.
“Just have a care where your heart is concerned, dove, mm?” Regina prodded her again. “Protect it. When one has much and the other has little, it’s rarely a smooth path to happiness.”
As immediately as they had come, the two ladies were gone, linking arms and floating away into the growing swell of guests gathering near the auction tables. Ann was among those assembled there, glittering in jade-green silk, scattered jewels falling from the headband damming her thick blacktresses. Violet took a nervous gulp, realizing they would end the bidding at any moment. Noticing her all alone in the corner, Ann waved her over.
Violet went to her on numb feet.
“Congratulations, Violet,” said Ann, showing her a folded card. She thumbed it open just enough for Violet to see what had been written inside. It was the bidding card for her portrait sitting. “You’ve drawn the highest bid of the evening.”
“But how is that possible?” Violet snatched the card out of her hands, holding it up to her own eyes. Lane had given the first number, a kind gesture, but he was outdone by Alasdair Kerr. Another sum was proposed by Lane, but Alasdair had clearly grown impatient with the game and finished with a definitive fifty-pound bid.
“I might have urged my husband to move things along and keep them interesting,” Ann said lightly. “All for the good of the Florizel, of course.”
Violet laughed and flopped the card down to her side. “Of course.”
Somewhere in the crowd around them, Mr. Lavin could be heard weeping drunkenly with joy and relief. Ann’s golden eyes flashed at someone over Violet’s shoulder. “Ah! Mr. Kerr! May I commend you on your inspiring generosity this evening, sir? I daresay you have won yourself standing invitations to any events given by the Ladies’ Society for the Lonely, Abandoned, and Infirm. With men like you in attendance, we may solve all the ills in the county!”
Turning slowly to face him, Violet met his eye with great difficulty. How many lectures had she endured from her aunts warning that she would end up a sad, lonely spinster? Worst of all, she had allowed herself to believe them. Her heart felt fit to burst with pride; Violet Arden, beautiful, exuberant, andstrange, might amount to something after all. It would be in bad taste to take the card and wave it under Aunt Mildred’s nose; just knowing she had not embarrassed herself completely would have to be enough.
“I will leave you two to decide the finer details of your sitting,” said Ann, spinning away behind Alasdair, but not before giving Violet a wink.
