Page 12 of The Devil and the Heiress
“What will you do?” he asked quietly.
His irises were rimmed in a darker color, though the light was too low to tell if that color was blue or a darker gray. He seemed so earnest and concerned for her that she covered his hand with her own. That simple touch thickened the air, and heat swirled between them.
“I’m not certain.” And she could hardly think with him so close. Her heart pounded a frantic beat as her body kept wanting to sway into him. The effect he had on her was an immature infatuation, but she wanted more of it.
“If they disregard your feelings on the matter, then you only have two choices.”
“Run away.” She sounded a bit breathless.
“Yes.” Was it her overactive imagination, or did he sound breathless, too?
When he didn’t say anything else, she prodded him. “Or?”
“Marry someone of your own choosing.”
Surely, he didn’t mean him? No, she was imagining the connotation. “I-I suppose that might work, only there is no one that I want to wed. As I mentioned, I believe that a couple should have a mutual fondness and respect for each other. I could hardly escape one doomed marriage to rush into another one. It wouldn’t be wise.”
His lips thinned in what seemed to be disappointment. Had he really meant to propose to her? “Then it appears you have found your solution,” he said.
Was he right? Had it already come to running away so fast?
“Do you have a means of supporting yourself if you choose that option?”
Would her parents truly cut her off? God, if she ran, she would certainly have to be prepared for the possibility. “Yes... I have a small stock portfolio that my brother controls for me. He would allow me to have access to it, I’m sure.”
“How small?”
“I get quarterly statements.” But the truth was she hardly examined them closely. “I believe around twenty thousand dollars.”
“That’s rather significant,” he said, and his confidence gave her hope. Perhaps it would be enough. “But what if your brother sides with your parents? He could hold on to the stocks.”
“He wouldn’t, but I also have a small home in Manhattan left to me by an aunt. It generates an income.”
“Or you could sell,” he said.
“I suppose.” Though she wouldn’t want to. Aunt Hortense had been her father’s eldest sister. Unmarried, she had held a particular fondness for Violet, an affection Violet had returned. Many happy hours had been spent in her home. “But all that will come later. I have a small amount of cash to get me by in the short term should I leave.”
“I could help you.” His eyes were resolute but also tender with understanding.
“Thank you, but I don’t think such an extreme measure is necessary just yet. I’ll need to have a conversation with my parents to clarify things.”
His hand fell slowly from her waist. Despite herself, she felt at a loss when he did so. Instead of letting him go, shefollowed, covering his hand with hers when it came to rest on the back of the sofa. He stared down at their gloved hands, and she smiled, folding her fingers around his and giving them a squeeze.
“I appreciate your concern.”
Still watching where her hand rested on his, he said, “I do not know your parents well, but I do not believe they will be swayed away from their purpose.”
She could not seem to look away from the contact, either. As she watched, the pad of his thumb brushed gently across the base of hers in a slow back-and-forth motion that could be clearly felt through their gloves. A delicious shiver ran the length of her spine while heat pooled in her belly. She stared for so long that it seemed indecent, so she looked up into his eyes. He caught her, like a spider catches a fly in its web. Only she had no wish to get away. She liked being the object of his focus.
What if he asked for her hand instead of Ware? Would she be so quick to refuse him, or would she entertain the idea and allow him to court her? She knew the answer when excitement swirled within her. Perhaps if they kissed once—a chaste brushing of lips—then she could put it down as research for her poor Miss Hamilton. Neither she nor Violet had ever kissed a rogue. Teddy certainly didn’t count in that regard.
Without making a conscious decision, she leaned forward, swaying toward him. He stayed where he was, but his swift intake of breath made her pulse quicken. Before she could stop herself, she raised up on her toes and pressed her lips to his. They were surprisingly soft and warm. She didn’t particularly like scotch, but tasting it from his mouth would surely be divine. His heart pounded beneath where her hand had come to rest on his chest, indicating he was as affected as she was. A surge of exhilaration rushed through her veins, making her bold. The very tip of her tongue touched his bottom lip, drawing a sound from deep in hischest. His lips moved, parting beneath hers as his hand came back to her waist to hold her steady.
The sound of heels rushing against the carpet in the next room had her pulling back and turning in time to see Lady Helena March hurry through the door adjoining the salons. “Violet!” Her blue eyes were widened with concern when she saw them. “There you are.”
Violet had no idea how badly the scene appeared. It was very likely the woman knew exactly what they had been up to. Still, Violet couldn’t resist turning back to gauge his expression. The wanton desire she saw reflected in his eyes made the coil of pleasure in her belly clench tighter. He wasn’t touching her anymore, but the imprint of his hand still warmed her.
“Lady Helena.” Violet smiled, trying to appear nonchalant but knowing she probably failed. “Lord Leigh was showing me the...” She cast about for something, anything to focus on. “The Titian,” she said, referring to a painting on the wall near them.
