Page 40 of Untaming Lady Violet
“Yes, lead the way, Longleigh. I believe we could all use a drink.” Bowman laughed heartily, bowing toward Tristan’s father. “Lord Darby, it is rumored your brandy selection rivals that of the Duke of Richeforte. Having only sampled yours, I am unable to present an unbiased comparison. Richeforte should bring a bottle or two so that a proper assessment may take place.”
“Perhaps he will,” the earl replied absently to Bowman. “But with a pretty new wife, such trivial things may be far from his mind.” He watched Tristan’s reaction with a curious expression on his features.
Tristan did not miss the way Violet bit her bottom lip with his father’s off-the-cuff statement. The plump bit of flesh turned scarlet when she released it. If he had his way, he would soothe her with a kiss and the reminder he had no interest at all in the new Duchess of Richeforte.
“Will you join us, Father?” Tristan inquired, turning to the earl.
“Another time, son.” Darby dismissed Tristan with a wave of his hand, then turned to smile at Violet. “Violet, dear, I do hope you are enjoying your stay here. I was just saying to Lady Darby it’s been too long since you came to visit us. You are always welcome here, regardless of the season or event.”
What an odd thing for his father to say. Tristan puzzled over it as Lord Darby gave him a hard stare. “Tristan, join me in my study in an hour’s time.”
Whatever the earl wished to discuss, Tristan was fairly certain it revolved around Violet and the attention he’d shown her the past week.
And that definitely set his nerves on edge.
* * *
Others accompaniedthem to the main salon; the arrival of new guests warranted a welcome round of beverages. A lively mix of both men and women soon filled the space.
Violet deftly avoided William. Each time he reached for her, she slid out of reach. Tristan found her evasiveness quite fascinating.
“Ugh,” Celia sighed, taking up a spot beside Tristan. “I’d forgotten how disagreeable that man is. And I don’t know what’s gotten into him. In the past, he’s scarcely shown her any attention at all, but now? Now, he seems obsessed with touching her every chance he gets. Poor Violet. I imagine it feels similar to pursuit by a reptile of some sort. Although, I suppose I should refrain from voicing my criticism. The man will probably be her husband soon enough.”
Tristan clenched the glass in his hand tighter with his sister’s words. He did not need that reminder.
Gadley’s sudden interest in staking his claim was not so puzzling if one understood men’s predictable reaction to perceived threats. Obviously, the smug and infamously emotionless man had deduced Henry Bowman wasn’t the only gentleman interested in the shy redhead. Other men were now sniffing around her skirts as well.
Tristan included himself in that group.
“If only someone with a richer purse and an agreeable personality offered for Violet. Lord Everstone would surely consider an alternative.” Celia stared into the pale depths of the glass of lemonade a servant handed her. “But then again, perhaps he would not. For a year, Violet has been dangled in front of Gadley as if she were a golden carrot. He links his name to the esteemed Everstone crest, and in return, the earl receives a generous settlement for the rights to his daughter. It’s an unfair exchange, I think, with Violet coming out on the short end of things. He’s not shown a whit of interest in her all this time, and now…”
Across the room, William swallowed the dregs of his third brandy. Setting the glass down, he successfully snagged Violet’s elbow when she was distracted by Lady Fiona’s entrance. Drawing her aside from the other guests, he spoke rather sternly while she listened with a blank expression, her eyes downcast.
Violet’s docile nature left Tristan feeling nauseous and confused. Where was the spark he’d seen earlier when she granted him permission to explore as he willed beneath her skirts?
Violet shook her head in response to something William said, pulling free and wrapping her arms almost defensively around her waist. Seeing her unease stiffened Tristan’s backbone. And when her gaze shot across the room to lock with his, he physically restrained himself from rushing to her side.
Aware that her attention had drifted to the viscount, Gadley gripped her arm again, his mouth flattening into an ugly line.
Pain flashed across Violet’s delicate features.
“The bastard…” Tristan breathed.
“Tristan,” Celia warned. “Don’t. You’ve no rights when it comes to Violet.”
“You go to her, then. Quickly. Before I rip the man’s arms from his body.”
Celia nodded, setting down her glass. Without another word, she hurried across the room.
Tristan had no idea what Celia said as she slid an arm around Violet’s waist but William released her with a reluctant scowl.
In her usual charming way, his sister’s mannerism remained bright and cheerful while engaging the gentleman in conversation. Finally giving a tight nod, William stepped back so the two women could dip their heads in a private discussion. A moment later, Violet searched out Tristan, their eyes locking.
A smile of gratitude curved her lips, softening them and reminding him how sweetly they molded to his. She was still smiling as Celia led her from the salon.
William watched them go, his face hard, cold, and oddly determined, and Tristan wondered why that sent a shiver of unease up his spine.
* * *
