Page 93 of Too Wanton to Wed
“You were good-intentioned.” Violet’s eyes saw too deep. “I cannot say what I would have done in your place.”
He pressed her fingers to his lips. “Nor can I say how I might have reacted in yours.”
“When daylight broke... ” She shook her head, her body trembling in remembrance. “Words cannot describe my horror. Nor is there enough pain in this world to contain my guilt at leaving the window unshuttered.” Her hands fell back to her sides. “I didn’t mean to. Like you, I simply didn’t think of it. My head was so full of so many other questions... ”
He wished she had not let go of his hands. It was as if she were saying no.
Violet closed her eyes. “When the brightest minds in England had not heard of such a sickness, I began to wonder. When you admitted you had lied to me all this time, I figured you’d lied about everything, or at the very least exaggerated the truth beyond all propriety. If you suffered the same disease as your daughter, it clearly was not as bad as you had claimed. I’d meant to go straight to London, but I’d already missed the post. And with my face nailed on every wall, my head was filled with so many fears of not surviving the night, that I never once considered the dawn.” Her lip trembled, but she looked him in the eyes. “Oh, Alistair. I will never, ever forgive myself for allowing Lily to be harmed.”
“As I will never, ever forgive myself for driving away the two people I hold most dear. If I had not done so, none of us would be in this position today.”
She smiled sadly. “I fault you for lying, but I do not blame you for Lily’s burns. It is not your fault.”
He took her hands once more. “In that case, I cannot blame you for not knowing which lies were based on truth, or for rightfully worrying about your own neck.”
“Where does that leave us?” She held tight to his hands. “Two faulty people, wallowing in guilt?”
“Count again. We’re three faulty people, wallowing in guilt. Three makes a family.” He hoped. He pulled her close. “I’m sorry, love.”
She gazed up at him. “Me, too.”
He tilted his mouth toward hers. “I’ll forgive you if you forgive me.”
“Deal,” Lily shouted from behind her tester.
Alistair jumped. He counted his daughter in all his plans, but had forgotten she was right there, listening. And likely watching.
“He wasn’t talking to you, imp!” Violet called back. Her eyes had regained some of their sparkle.
He held her closer. She would not sparkle if she did not feel something for him, too. This was his chance.
His words hesitant, but his heart buoyant, Alistair allowed himself to hope. “Violet Whitechapel—”
“Smythe!” Lily yelled indignantly.
“Actually, it’s Whitechapel,” Violet corrected with a trembling half-smile. “Sort of. Do you think you could pipe down for a moment or two over there?”
“Sorry!”
“Violet Whitechapel-Smythe,” Alistair began again, unable to hide his smile. A sudden rumble interrupted. He frowned. They both turned their heads to the sound. A rabble of muffled voices could be heard on the other side of the sanctuary walls.
He frowned. His servants never gathered around Lily’s domain. Not to mention the fact that they were undoubtedly hard at work washing linens or fetching cold water.
Something heavy thudded hard against the exterior of the sanctuary.Thunk... Thunk ... Thunk.The noise grew louder. And faster.
Alistair dropped Violet’s hands in alarm. “They’re throwing bricks.”
She stared up at him, her eyes wide. “What? Who?”
“Villagers.” His hands clenched into fists. “Led by that nescient smithy.”
“Why?” She glanced over her shoulder, alarmed.
He sent his gaze skyward to beg his heavenly Father for deliverance. “They think Lily is a vampire, or at least a creature from hell.”
She flinched as another brick hit the wall above her head. “I thought you changed their mind. Don’t the adults at least know vampires aren’t real?”
“They did,” he said quietly, as another brick rattled the covered windows. “Until this morning.”
