Page 11 of Untaming Lady Violet
“You witnessed infatuation. Nothing more. Had it beentruelove, my dear brother would have ceased consorting with his various mistresses. He would not have been able to think of anyone or anything other than Grace, and that was certainly not the case. Tristan saw her as someone unlike any other girl in his orbit. A conquest, an oddity he could admire, but one he would never understand.” Coming up beside her, Celia reached out and tucked a flame-hued strand of hair behind Violet’s ear. “You see, Grace and the duke understand each other. They are perfectly matched andthatwas fate. Two wild at heart creatures that found love and contentment at last. Tristan would never have that with her.”
“No other woman will ever measure up to Tristan’s idea of her perfection.” Violet did not bother stemming the tears that sprang to her eyes. “You cannot tell me he does not regret losing her.”
Tristan might behave in a carefree manner, creating a façade of merriment and good humor after being rejected so cruelly, but surely, he was suffering.
“He could not lose her when he never had her to begin with, dear. Now, Father has reminded Tristan he must become serious about marriage. And Violet, with every ounce of my soul, I believe you are meant to be together. You knew it the moment you saw him. Now, we need Tristan to realize it, too. Before it’s too late and another captures his attention.”
A tiny shiver raced through Violet, remembering the first time she saw Tristan.
It was inside the Darby Meadows conservatory eight years before. Chasing Celia in a madcap attempt to retrieve a hair ribbon, Violet skidded down a gravel path and found a dark-haired, dark-eyed viscount instead. That particular day was rainy and cold, but her heart exploded with sunlight when she saw the smile curving his lips.
Having just turned eighteen, the viscount had come home from Cambridge. Upon his arrival, frustrated perhaps by the boring monotony of his travels, Tristan escaped to the conservatory. Seated on a stone bench, he busily sketched one of the potted lemon trees by the fountain in the building’s center. A jewel-toned butterfly perched on one of the blossoms, its wings slowly fluttering.
When Celia asked why he chased butterflies instead of choosing a steed for the fox chase scheduled the next day, Tristan’s firm, full lips tugged upward. Violet lingered in the background, staring unabashedly at the handsome viscount.
“Does the horse I choose matter all that much?” He had replied with good-natured affection for his younger sibling. “Little fiend, you will undoubtedly out-ride me.”
With Celia’s assistance, Violet haunted the viscount’s footsteps like a tiny ghost for nearly two weeks that particular spring. The girls spent hours discussing every look or smile Tristan haphazardly tossed Violet’s way.
Celia had not minded when her new twelve-year-old friend fell instantly in love with her older brother. And she never shied from expressing her insights on matters that oddly enough almost always came true.
That year, when goodbyes were being said, Celia clasped her friend’s tiny hands within her own and said something that forever changed Violet.
“Don’t worry, sweet little Violet. He will see you one day…” A faraway light sparkled in Celia’s dark brown eyes. “My brother may search, but he will not find happiness with anyone else.”
How Celia was so certain of that fact, Violet did not know.
Because for the past eight years, she remained invisible. Tristan never acknowledged her existence with anything other than a respectful distance.
Until today.
Today was different. Violet’s heart fluttered as she recalled her boldness.
Shewas different today in the woods. Today, she actuallyconversedwith the man. Laughed with him. Felt his body against her own.
Which made her wonder…
Why did he do something so strange? Why did he taste the blood from my lips? And was that truly hunger I saw in his eyes or wishful hope on my part?
“I wanted your name placed on the list of eligible young women, but Mother would not allow it.” Celia did not conceal the irritation in her tone. “She says it would violate the trust Lord Everstone has placed in my father when they act as your chaperones. It is complete poppycock. Oh, Violet! I don’t care what your parents say. You willnotmarry Gadley! It shall be tragic if you do.”
Violet half-turned from the window, gazing solemnly at her dearest friend.
“Have you been kissed many times, Celia?”
Her head tilting with the odd question, Celia grinned. “More times than is proper, I’m afraid. I’ve decided it will be much easier choosing a husband if there is some sort of measurement to determine suitability. Why do you ask?”
Violet blushed under the scrutiny. “If a man has the chance to kiss you, but chooses not to do so, would you consider that an indication of disinterest? I ask out of curiosity. In case I find myself in a similar situation and the gentleman does not …” Her words trailed off in embarrassment.
“I can’t imagine a man with such willpower exists, Violet. When the moment arises, you will find yourself kissed with such thoroughness it shall astound you,” Celia replied honestly. “You are the very essence of temptation, my dear. Few men can resist that once they are made aware of it.”
* * *
With an hourof free time before dinner, Celia insisted that Violet join her in the main salon. A variety of activities were planned for the guests, including card games such as whist or vingt-et-un.
More scandalous sport would take place as well, provided no one’s parents or chaperone ruined the fun. Many of these involved females either being kissed or surreptitiously fondled under the guise of harmless amusement.
Violet had never played such games before. The outrageous ones, that is. Wiping damp palms along the side of her dark, lavender-hued gown, she prayed for the nerve to actually participate.
