Page 16 of Untaming Lady Violet
At one point, he leaned close and murmured a bit of advice. “Ignore them as I do. They will gossip, regardless.”
Violet nodded, concentrating on not cutting off her own pinkie finger while slicing the roasted beef on her plate. It was very hard ignoring Tristan’s warm breath in her ear. It was as though a fire had suddenly roared into life along her nerve endings. She felt alive. More than alive.
The viscount’s devotion was both terrifying and exhilarating. Even the puzzled glances cast their way by Tristan’s parents could not diminish the heady pleasure of it. Seated directly across the table, Celia grinned in obvious delight every time she caught Violet’s eye.
Following dinner, Tristan escorted Violet back to the Emerald Parlor, holding her arm when she would have filed with the others into the elegantly appointed room. Other than a round of introductions, very little had taken place in the hour prior to dining. Those returning now chattered amongst themselves, agreeing the evening would prove a lively one.
“Shall I stay?” Tristan asked, his brow raised.
“Of course not.” However, Violet secretly wished he would. “There is no harm in a few silly games. And Celia is here.”
Tristan’s eyes darkened. Violet could not discern what he was thinking, but something about the tight set of his jaw made her stomach flutter. Like it was filled to the brim with butterflies. She thought perhaps he was unhappy leaving her there, a thought reinforced when he glared at the men entering the parlor.
A great deal more gentlemen were in attendance than before, Violet noted nervously.
Tristan tipped her chin with a forefinger, bringing her attention back to him. “Remember what I said, Violet.”
He did not elaborate. There was no need. She’d thought of little else but his fierce demand from the moment he uttered it. He knew the power it held over her, sure of her compliance to the point of arrogance.
Violet nodded, and Tristan spun on his heel, leaving her there on the parlor threshold.
* * *
An hour later,Violet trembled, prepared to bolt from the room.
“Don’t go, darling,” Celia pleaded. “We’ll find another...”
“Why must we change games simply because one person is too frightened of the outcome?” Lady Fiona Blackerby stated coolly, looking for support from other participants.
“Violet is one of the bravest girls on earth.” Celia squeezed Violet’s waist tight, her chin tipping upward as Fiona rolled her eyes. “But I’ll not make her play if she doesn’t want to, Fiona. Besides, I don’t like this game anyway. We shouldn’t play it at all.”
“She wouldn’t play Kiss the Four Corners. And now she balks at Squeak, Piggy Squeak?” Fiona tossed one perfectly curled lock of hair over her shoulder. Shooting Violet a hostile glare, she said, “One would think you’ve never played games outside the nursery before. It’s all harmless fun, my dear.”
“Permitting a man to… to… kiss and grope you?” Violet countered. The ferocity of her response surprised even Celia, judging by the raised eyebrows. “And not just one, but a multitude.”
“If there was just one participant, it wouldn’t be much of a game, now would it?” Someone chuckled. “It’s all very sporting.”
Others murmured similar thoughts aloud.
“How is it sport?” Violet demanded.
“So, there is a bit of fire beneath that meek exterior.” A gentleman standing disturbingly close laughed softly. A thread of excitement, mingled with something resembling admiration, laced his tone.
“It’s how the game is played,” Fiona snapped, as it became apparent Violet was the epicenter of male attention. “I understand your reluctance, considering your size, but if you won’t sit in the player’s lap and…”
“And be pawed and humiliated while making ridiculous noises? Risk being compromised while looking incredibly foolish?” Violet’s voice shook as Fiona’s taunt found its mark.
Violet decided it couldn’t be helped. It was just that she was so veryangry.With herself. With these men. And women. And even Celia, whose dark eyes flashed with pained regret even while she attempted dissuading others from this ridiculous game.
Fiona merely smiled, smoothing a hand down the front of her dress. She truly was a beautiful girl. Tall, willowy, and blessed with champagne blonde hair and a complexion rivaling fresh cream. She was the perfect counterpoint to Tristan’s darkness, her appearance so similar to the new Duchess of Richeforte that it almost certainly warranted Tristan’s attention. At least twice during dinner, his eyes strayed in the lady’s direction before he focused on Violet with a most charming smile.
Fiona Blackerby was everything Violet was not. Most notably, she would serve beautifully as an obvious substitute for Tristan’s lost love.
Violet’s chest expanded with unimaginable hurt. Maybe a little indignation that she’d been invisible for so long. Resentment that she’d allowed it.
“Violet.” Celia sounded a bit panicked. Perhaps because this evening of harmless parlor games was quickly disintegrating into something else. Or perhaps because she did not recognize the heat in Violet’s tone. Nor the spark in her eyes when their gazes locked.
“It’s all right, Celia. I’m rather exhausted, so I believe I’ll retire for the evening.”
