Page 10 of Untaming Lady Violet
Me?
Surely not.
She moved with such haste Tristan feared she might lose her slippers again and go tumbling head over heels down the gentle slope. Brow creased with perplexing interest, he watched until the green of her dress melted into the strand of woods beyond the open meadow.
What an odd little creature you are, Violet Everstone.
And if the lady wished to be chased…
He might change his mind and oblige her.
Chapter 4
Upon reaching the Rose Parlor, Violet plopped down in a carved rosewood chair. Deep in thought, she traced the intricate pattern of the cream brocade upholstery with a forefinger.
After that mad dash across the meadows, she was completely out of breath, her heart pounding as she recalled the viscount’s words.
He would sit beside her at dinner. Engage in conversation. Laugh and smile with her while others watched. While people whispered and speculated.
Her anxiety steadily increased as she relived the unexpected encounter with Tristan. His body was so hard and muscular, yet when used as a cushion for her fall, she found herself perfectly content while scandalously sprawled across him.
Pressing a hand against her stomach, her insides tumbled topsy-turvy as she recalled how he smiled. Even though his voice was gruff, he had not seemed cross that a shoe landed on his head, followed by herself.
Thank goodness she’d been too impatient to don her customary walking boots this afternoon. Had one of those struck the viscount, it most certainly would have left a knot.
“Twenty gold crowns.”
Violet bolted upright. Celia Buchanan, the daughter of the Earl and Countess of Darby, trailed a finger across the door’s paneled surface as she entered the room. Flashing a wide grin, she repeated herself, “Twenty gold crowns. To know who or what placed such a smile on your face, dear friend.
Violet blushed. “Don’t be silly. I’m thinking of no one in partic—”
Celia held up a hand. “Ah-ha!” Shaking her head until dark, glossy curls bounced on her shoulders, she took a seat in a matching chair. “You were off on a wonderful adventure just now, in a faraway land of great pleasure and excitement. And, I wager it was not Lord Ghastly waltzing you about in circles.”
Lips stretching into a thin line, Violethumphedin exasperation. “Had I realized the constant misuse of it, I would not have told you the creation of that nickname.”
“But it’s so perfect!” Celia sighed, dramatically. “Truly, it couldn’t possibly be anything else.”
“I shall forget myself and say it aloud in his presence one day.” Violet bit her lip before remembering the slight injury. “My parents will disown me, of course.”
“Of course.” Celia nodded in calm agreement. “Then you’ll come live with us here at Darby Meadows. And have all the freedom your heart desires.”
“Unless you are of the male gender, no one is allowed that much liberty.”
Celia’s lips pursed at Violet’s observation. “Don’t be such a sourpuss. Not today. Not when the person you love most has finally arrived. The chance he will ask for your hand still exists.”
Standing abruptly, Violet made her way to the bank of windows overlooking the north lawn. Leaning against the heavily carved frame of the sill, she watched the groundskeepers trimming the masses of white rose hedges in meticulous fashion.
Preparations were being made for the May Day celebration and the subsequent ball on the Darby estate in three weeks’ time. Over the coming days, guests would trickle in, including her parents and the man they expected her to marry.
Even the Duke and Duchess of Richeforte would celebrate May Day at Darby Meadows. Returning from a honeymoon tour of the continent, they had sent word of their attendance before continuing on to Bellmar Abbey for the foaling season.
Violet’s stomach hurt when she thought of Grace March.
“Your brother hardly realizes I’m alive, Celia. It’s a foolish dream that he might ever consider me in a romantic sense. Besides, they say he is still in love with Grace. And I’m doomed to wed Lord Ghastly. I mean, Gadley.”
“Theyhave no inkling of what’s going on,” Celia answered brightly. “Oh, Violet. We both know Tristan was neverinlove with Grace. He only thought he was. He truly sees her now as he should have from the very beginning. As a sister.”
“Well, he certainly did not love Grace as one would a sister a few months ago.” Violet traced a wormwood trail in the windowsill with her fingernail. “The moment he laid eyes on her, he was enamored. I witnessed it myself at every turn. And it was painful to see.”
