Page 85 of Untaming Lady Violet
His knuckles rapped on the wood again.
If she doesn’t answer in a few seconds, I will go.
Violet’s voice was low, muffled by the thickness of the oak between them. “Who is it?”
Tristan’s heart pounded as though he’d raced to London and back on foot. “It is me, kitten. Will you open the door?”
Her hesitation broke his heart. When had the breach of trust occurred? When precisely had she begun distrusting him? Was it that moment in his studio? When he denied his feelings for her…
The lock rattled before the door cracked open a tiny bit. He could see she wore a gown of white cambric. It fluttered around her with a billowy softness, like a cloud of angel wings. She held Carrot to her chest, and the kitten regarded him with an imperialistic, yet sleepy air. At least the beast wasn’t hissing at him.
“What do you want, Tristan?”
I want to tell you I love you. I want to tell you I need you. But I’m afraid, deathly afraid that you no longer love me. And while I deserve that, it will break me.
“I just encountered my sister roaming the halls at five o’clock in the morning, and she said you needed me. I thought you might be ill.” Disappointment with his own lack of bravery had Tristan’s jaw clenching tight
Violet tucked her chin closer to the top of Carrot’s head. “Oh. Well, I’m fine. Really. Just fine. Goodnight, Tristan. Or is it good morning? I’m a little topsy-turvy at the moment, so you must choose the one that applies.”
A funny hiccup escaped her as she went to close the door. But as light from the corridor lit her features, Tristan saw evidence of tears trailing down her pale cheeks.
“You’re crying. Why are you crying? Are you hurt? In pain?” Firing questions quicker than she could possibly answer, Tristan laid a palm on the door, preventing its closure. “Celia said something about Lady Everstone…”
“It is nothing. Speaking with my mother was a mistake, as some conversations inevitably are meant to be. Do not concern yourself, Tristan.”
“It is my concern,” he breathed. “I swore you would not have to see them again if you did not wish it. Was she cruel to you? Abusive? I’ll take a strap to her myself if she…”
“It was nothing I didn’t expect from her.” Violet sighed heavily, swinging the door open just a bit more. “You may as well come in before anyone sees you lurking in the corridor. And close the door.”
A single lamp burned low beside her bed, and she turned toward it without sparing him another glance.
Tristan hesitated before entering her bedchamber. Violet’s demeanor, one of distraction and heartache, concerned him a great deal.
She climbed into bed, still clutching Carrot, who purred so robustly the sound rumbled around the room.
“What did she say that upset you?” Damn her parents and their selfishness. A horsewhip applied with great enthusiasm would do the pair of them a world of good.
Violet sighed, waving a hand as if bruising the heart of their only child was a trivial matter. “That I am a horrible daughter. A weed that ultimately served no purpose. Mother says my lack of faithfulness and loyalty has doomed them, and I suppose it is true. I did not apply myself to finding a husband on the Marriage Mart. And when Lord Ghastly, I mean, Lord Gadley, presented a solution, I agreed; although, I resented them all for it. They placed our survival on my shoulders, but I am too weak. I couldn’t save myself, much less rescue an earldom.” The soft, golden light highlighted the confused anguish washing over her features. “But to be called those names, by my own mother. I wish it didn’t hurt so much…”
Tristan crossed the room.
This gentle, ravishing creature was tearing him apart with her quiet sorrow. He wanted to scoop her up in his arms and soothe all the pain away.
But his own words had sliced and wounded her as well. Instead of reaching for her as he longed to do, Tristan stopped at the foot of the bed.
“You are not to blame for their shortcomings, nor their despicable character, kitten. They’ve done nothing to deserve a daughter such as you. You are a treasure that has been wasted on them.”
“I don’t know what to do, Tristan,” she said simply. “Where I should go. Where I am to belong.”
“You may stay here at Darby Meadows until you decide your course, Violet. As badly as I want you for my wife, I will not follow your parents’ example and force you into it. My family all adore you. You know they welcome you staying here for the rest of your life.”
Plucking at the bed’s counterpane, a frown knitted Violet’s brow. “I would be a burden.”
“That’s not true.” Tristan could not help but come closer. She called to his soul, as deadly as a siren calling unwary sailors to a rocky shore.
“It’s not a long-term solution though, is it?” Violet met his gaze, her dark amethyst-blue eyes piercing in their intensity. “Will you stay away from Darby Meadows if I remain here?”
Tristan’s fists clenched. “Do not ask that of me, Violet.”
