Page 8 of The Devil and the Heiress
Camille only shook her head, clearly struggling to find her composure. Violet felt helpless to do anything to help her, and she hated the way that set heavy on her chest. Camille was nearly the same age as her and should be enjoying herself back home in New York by going to parties with friends. She was far too young to have been married to a stranger nearly three times her age and shipped across the ocean with no family or friends.
Anger spurring her words, Violet said, “It’s obvious he cares very little for your well-being. Come home with me.”
Camille gave a short bark of laughter and shook her head. “You are right on that count. He was merely greedy for the money my father settled on me. I am an inconvenience he doesn’t need or want.”
“Then do it. Come home with me. He likely won’t even care,” Violet urged.
Camille put her hand on Violet’s shoulder and shook her head sadly. “You’re very sweet, Violet, but I can’t possibly do that. Everyone will know, and as much as I am unhappy, I cannot bring that disgrace upon my family. It’s not fair to them.”
“But it’s not fair to you, either.”
“No, but I did marry him. If I leave, he will see it as a personal affront. I simply have to figure out a way to make do.” The misery in her eyes when she glanced toward the door Hereford had exited through tugged at Violet’s heart. “Besides, your parents wouldn’t allow me to stay.”
“Then we can go away somewhere.” If Violet had to escape, it would be no hardship to include her friend.
“But where?” asked Camille.
Home to New York? No, they would be found easily,perhaps even before the ship left Liverpool. Even if they made it to New York, the scandal and gossip would give them no relief. Besides, Teddy wasn’t there waiting for her. They needed to go somewhere where they wouldn’t be found for a bit. Somewhere they could find relaxation and comfort.
“Windermere. I read an advertisement in the paper a few weeks ago about an estate there accepting boarders. It’s something of an artists’ house. Women only. We can go there together, and no one will know where we are.” Saying the idea out loud gave it some weight, as if it were actually a viable alternative. Violet had kept the advertisement because it had seemed like a very romantic place to dream about. But all of this marriage business made it seem much more of a possibility. She refused to end up like Camille.
Her friend gave her first genuine smile. “An artists’ house? How lovely.” Then she seemed to shake herself from her wistfulness as she asked, “Oh, dear, have you heard back from the publisher about your manuscript? I’m sorry I haven’t asked you before now. We haven’t seen very much of each other since you’ve been in London.”
Violet had sent in her finished manuscript weeks before they had left New York along with her forwarding address in London. Every day she waited felt an eternity. “I haven’t heard yet, but I hope to soon. And please don’t worry. We’ve both been busy.” Though to be truthful, Hereford had been angry that Camille had gone with August to a bare-knuckle fight in Whitechapel a few weeks ago and had essentially kept her prisoner in their home since then with very few approved outings or visitors. The little they had seen each other, Violet’s mother had been present, so they hadn’t been able to properly chat.
“I hope you hear soon. I’m certain it’ll be good news. And, Violet, I so appreciate your concern, but you don’t want to run away. You have the rest of the Season to look forward to.”
“I suppose, but it wouldn’t be a hardship.” Violet was almost surprised at how easy it would be to leave. She was enjoying herself, but she would enjoy spending time with her friend even more. “I’m afraid that my parents still have marriage to a nobleman in mind, so it might actually be a welcome escape.”
Camille stiffened. “What do you mean? Did something happen with Rothschild and August? In your letter you said that he followed her to America.”
“No, nothing’s happened. I assume they have reconciled and Max is having a devil of time keeping Rothschild off her on the crossing.” Violet teased in an attempt at levity.
Camille relaxed somewhat, but she still held an air of alarm. “That’s good, then. A duke in the family will get your mother onto Mrs. Astor’s guest list.”
Violet nodded. “That’s true, but Papa asked me to consider a few suitors.”
“Violet, no!” The blood drained from Camille’s face, leaving it as white as chalk. “You cannot let them force you into marriage. Not under any circumstances. Do you understand me?” She held Violet’s hand in a grip that was almost painful.
“It’s not my intention to marry.”
Camille faced her fully, getting closer and lowering her voice. “Violet, listen to me. There are things that happen between a husband and wife that you don’t understand yet.” A rosy blush bloomed across her cheeks as she spoke. Under normal circumstances it would have made her appear quite lovely, but coupled with her wide, fearful eyes, it was alarming. “The marriage bed for one. It is an indignity in the best of circumstances, but imagine being forced to bare every part of yourself to a man you despise, or worse, to a man who despises and resents you. To give your entire being over to him.”
An image of Viscount Ware came to mind. His eyes were nearly as cold as his touch. Thanks to an anatomybook she and August had stumbled upon years ago, and snatches of overheard conversations, she knew the basics of what went on between a husband and wife. She had never considered what it would be like to lie with Lord Ware in that way, but the very idea of it shook her to her core. Papa hadn’t said, but surely if he had been allowed to escort her tonight, then he was a contender for her hand. “And for two?” she asked, quite certain that she didn’t really want to know more.
“He controls your entire life. Who you visit, who your friends are, where you live, what you eat, the clothing you wear. Now imagine giving that power to a person who believes you to be beneath him. He marries you for your money, but deep down he remembers that you come from common stock and he resents being brought so low. Please promise me that you will only marry someone of your choosing? Someone for whom you feel affection?”
Violet couldn’t speak past the lump in her throat, and her chest ached with sadness for Camille and her obvious misery.
“Please, Violet? I need to know you understand.”
Violet nodded, forcing herself to say, “Of course. I promise.”
Camille pulled her in for a quick hug and then wiped at the corner of her eye once more. “Good. Let me know if you need any help, but I’m afraid it will likely have to be in the form of a letter. I have a feeling I won’t be allowed visitors for some time.”
She started to walk away, but Violet took her hand, fearful that she might not see her friend for a while. It was within Hereford’s power to withhold her from everyone for as long as he wished. “Please promise me that you’ll let me know ifyouneed help. We can go away. Anywhere.”
Camille smiled. “Don’t worry for me. It’s not that terrible. I am being a touch melodramatic, but I wouldn’t wish it for you.”
