Page 14 of The Devil and the Heiress
Violet’s unease stayed with her the rest of the night, overshadowing any thoughts of her kiss with Lord Leigh. Her apprehension only increased on the carriage ride home. As usual, her parents were oblivious to her feelings. They were both in good spirits and said their good nights in the entryway before she hurried up to her bedroom.
Ellen, her maid, greeted her when she walked in. “Good evening, miss.”
“Good evening, Ellen.” Violet inclined her head as she tugged off her gloves. The maid had only been employed in the Crenshaw household since August had taken their shared lady’s maid home with her to New York. Though Violet liked her fine, she still thought of her as a stranger. After such a harrowing night, she simply needed to be alone with her thoughts.
Ellen hurried over and began working on the line of hidden fastenings down the back of Violet’s gown. After gently pulling it off over her head, Ellen set it aside beforeloosening the laces of Violet’s corset. When she could take a deep breath, Violet said, “That will be all for tonight, Ellen.”
“But the gown—” She indicated where it lay draped over the chair.
“You can see to it tomorrow. Leave it there.”
“I could at least unpin your hair, miss.”
“Thank you, but you can go on up to bed.” Violet had already turned toward the mirror and begun pulling the pins out herself.
Ellen nodded but paused in her path toward the door. “Are you quite all right, miss?” A crease appeared between her brows. “You seem a bit pale.”
Violet shook her head, having worn her calm facade for as long as she was able. “I-I’m only tired, I think.”
“Did you eat something that disagreed with you? I could fix you a tonic. In my village, my aunt was known for making over a hundred different ones, all guaranteed to cure a different ailment.”
Violet gave her head another shake. She hadn’t been able to bring herself to eat more than a couple of bites at the late supper served at the ball. “Thank you, Ellen, but I think rest is all I need.”
The girl nodded again and bid her good night before hurrying out the door.
Violet finished her hair and quickly changed into her nightdress and dressing gown. Her brain was moving too fast to even consider sleep, so she ended up pacing around her bed. She wished August was here, while at the same time feeling annoyed with herself for wanting her sister. August had been the one to try to save her a few weeks ago when this marriage talk had started, while Violet had assumed that her supposed engagement to Teddy would solve her problem. She would be twenty soon. It was time she started taking responsibility for her problems.
With that in mind, she tightened the belt on her dressinggown and marched down the corridor to Mother’s suite of rooms. She would find out in no uncertain terms if Lord Ware was the man her parents intended she marry. If he was, then she would figure a way out of it on her own.
There was no light coming from beneath the door. Perhaps she was still talking with Papa. Violet hurried down the stairs and to the drawing room. The door was cracked open, and light spilled out over the rug. The murmur of Mother’s voice, followed by Papa’s, had Violet slowing to a stop before they could see her. Checking that the hall was deserted, she leaned in to listen.
“You worry too much, Griswold,” said Mother. “Violet is the good one. She is placid and well-mannered. She will come to see that Lord Ware is the best choice. She trusts us.”
“I know you are right, my dear. I suppose I’m simply feeling softhearted. She isn’t even twenty, and she’ll be leaving us. First August, and now Violet who will be left here all alone.”
“She’ll hardly be alone. August will be near, and with the new office in London, we can stay here for months out of the year if we want.”
Whatever Papa answered was lost to the roaring in Violet’s ears. This was really happening. The marriage plan was starting all over again, and they had chosen Ware. She shouldn’t be surprised. Not one bit. And yet, she had hoped...
Turning, she hurried as quickly as she dared back toward the stairs. She was in no state to talk with her parents about this tonight. She was too upset, and anger never led to good decisions. As she passed the table with the silver tray that held their daily correspondence, her name written in a bold hand caught her eye. The letter must have arrived in the hubbub of preparing for the ball earlier in the day. Her hand visibly shook as she picked it up. A quick glance at the return address confirmed what she had already known; it was from the publisher in New York.
Rejection or acceptance?
She swiped the missive as if it were a secret letter and hid it in her skirts as she hurried up the stairs. The last thing she wanted to do was share this letter until she’d had time to absorb the contents. Locking her bedroom door behind her, she settled herself on the bed. The long-awaited letter trembled in Violet’s hand, and a portentous chill swept over her skin. Once again, her future awaited in a letter. Taking a deep breath, she tore into it, her gaze skimming over the words haphazardly, reading it in discombobulated phrases.
Thank you for your submission.
...interesting and revealing...
We regret to inform you...
...readers prefer serious and prudent topics...
...writing shows promise...
...consider submitting a manual regarding women’s interests...
They didn’t want her book. The paper slipped from her fingers and floated lightly to the floor. Unlike Teddy’s rejection, this one cut her deeply. Perhaps it was because they were rejecting not only her manuscript, but who she was. They wanted her to write books about etiquette or dinner parties. Nothing serious. Nothing real. Nothing that mattered to her.
