Page 57 of The Devil and the Heiress
Tears gathered in Violet’s eyes, but she refused to allow them to fall as she hugged the woman back. When she would have thought she’d prefer to bear this pain alone, she found herself grateful for Lady Helena’s comfort.
“Let us gather your things, dear,” she said in her typically efficient way. “We can be on a train for London this very afternoon.”
Violet nodded, unable to speak past the pain clogging her throat. Inside, she found that Mrs. Mitchell seemed very concerned, clucking like a mother hen as she hurried from one room to another, helping Violet gather her scarce belongings into her bag. Thankfully, the woman did not ask questions.
At the stoop, Violet said, “Thank you for your kindness, Mrs. Mitchell. Please convey my gratitude to Dr. Mitchell. I’m sorry I won’t see him to say goodbye.” The man had left early in the morning to attend the birth of a gentry woman in the next village and had not returned.
“Of course, I will. Please do write and let us know how you get on, lass.”
Violet agreed and allowed Max to help her into the carriage. She had no idea what Mrs. Mitchell had been told, and she dared not ask at the moment. The weight of her complete humiliation and devastation was all she could bear right now. The silence in the carriage was deafening. Tiny houses and shops and people going about their day passed by her window as they drove through the charming village she had temporarily called home. The entire time, she could feel the weight of Max’s gaze on her. He was disappointed, and he had every right to be. “I am very sorry for the trouble I put you through, both of you.”
Beside her, Lady Helena took her hand, holding it with both of hers and giving her fingers a squeeze of compassion. “We are simply glad to have you back safely.”
“Violet,” Max began, “I will make that bastard pay—”
“Mr. Crenshaw.” Lady Helena’s voice was sharp as a whip lashing through the carriage. “Perhaps we should wait to discuss particulars in London. Now is not the time.”
Violet hadn’t noticed the tension between the two of them before, but it was plain to see. Max’s eyes darkenedwith a storm she had rarely seen in her brother, and never directed at someone as kind and gentle as Lady Helena. Yet, there it was. For that matter, Lady Helena’s own gaze flashed with fire, but she banked it quickly. Max looked away first. Something had definitely happened between these two.
Lady Helena seemed to remember herself and gave Violet a reassuring smile. “We shall get you home to your own bed tonight, though it might be quite late.”
Dread twisted her belly into knots. “I’d prefer not to go home. I don’t want to face Mother and Papa just yet.” She didn’t know how she could ever forgive them completely for Lord Ware.
Max frowned but said, “We can go to a hotel.”
“Or she could stay with me.” To Violet, she said, “I am happy to have you for as long as you like. Whichever you prefer, dear.”
“Yes, thank you.” Violet squeezed her hand in gratitude.
“My thanks,” said Max, his gaze lingering on the woman.
Violet turned her gaze back to the window, where it stayed for the rest of the trip. She had made a foolish mistake by following her heart, and she very much feared that she would spend the rest of her life paying for it. No matter how angry she felt, a small part of her wondered: What if it had all been real? How was she supposed to know?
Chapter 21
Some would believe that his marriage to the fair Miss Hamilton even after his deed was uncovered was a sign of how deep his devilish proclivities ran; some, however, knew that it was his last attempt at salvation.
V. Lennox,An American and the London Season
There was no question of them not marrying.
Violet had known deep in her bones that would be the case. Although she had spent a great deal of her time on the train pretending that she would be fine, pretending that she could become a hermit and live her life out in a boardinghouse writing her novels, she knew that simply wasn’t true. She would not live her life as a pariah. The minor scandal that would have followed her only a short time ago when she was running away to a boardinghouse would have barely made ripples back in New York. Certainly, none that a Crenshaw fortune couldn’t calm.
God. It always came back to that, didn’t it? She was always to be reduced to the worth of her father’s bank account. Damn Christian. He hadn’t made it so, but he had given her a glimpse of how it would feel to be valued for something more. But it had only been a lie.
However, this scandal was much more serious than running away to a boardinghouse. While her parents hadcreated that ridiculous story about Bath that had kept the gossipmongers at bay for a while, Christian’s absence had been noted. Max’s arrival in London and subsequent disappearance had only fanned the flames. Then everyone had discovered the news about the carriage accident. This scandal would not die away without leaving a stain. She would have to face it. There would be no running away.
Max opened the gate leading from the mews to the back garden of Lady Helena’s Berkeley Square home. He used the back entrance, because Lady Helena had decided it would be best to not be home for the time being. Speculation was ripe about where Violet was hiding—Huxley brought in the paper every morning—but she was content to keep them guessing until the inevitable wedding.
“Max is here,” Violet said to Helena, who sat working at an elegant desk in the corner. Heart firmly in her stomach, Violet opened the door for him. He had come directly from a meeting with Papa and Christian at Montague Club. Their first meeting beyond an exchange of angry correspondence. She had noted that Christian had not once attempted to send her a letter or contact her in any way.
“Good afternoon.” He put an arm around her and kissed the top of her head as he had done since she was a child. “How are you feeling?”
She forced herself to smile and say, “Better.” Though it had been half a week since she had left Christian, she still vacillated between love and hate. It couldn’t have all been a lie, could it? Not those moments when he stared at her with such joy. One couldn’t fake that, could one? Or those times he had touched her so intimately. How could one convey so much tenderness in a touch and not feel it? But he was a practiced libertine and had perfected his craft, she would remind herself, and it was that very thinking that had gotten her in trouble.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Crenshaw.”
Max stared at the woman, his gaze roving downward asshe stood to greet him. Violet bit her lip to hide a genuine smile. Having been born with an invisible marriage bull’s-eye on his back, Max generally kept his distance from women in Society. Violet’s own friends back in New York tended to fall all over themselves in their attempts to meet him or compliment him. It was simply too bad that he would be returning to New York soon and would not be able to further his acquaintance with Helena.
