The Song of Love

by Platt, Meara

  The sun had broken through the clouds and was now shining down on Violet’s hair. Those dark, silken curls looked ready to burst from their pins. He’d probably knocked a few of them loose as his fingers had been buried in her hair.

  She was nibbling her lip, driving him wild with the play of her teeth against her plump, lower lip. “You are welcome to join us.”

  He was going to refuse, but she continued. “After all, we are betrothed. Even though it is a secret betrothal for the moment.”

  After that kiss? He’d marry her today if it were possible to obtain the special license within the hour.

  “But I know what Lord Forester’s visit is about, and I don’t wish to keep his purpose from you.”

  “What purpose?” Was there something more between her and Lord Forester? It couldn’t be anything romantic. Violet was no accomplished flirt and would never be able to pretend affection for two men at once.

  But he’d seen Forester with her in Lady Dayne’s moonlit garden last night. Although Violet held no romantic feelings for him, there was no mistaking Forester’s amorous intentions toward her.

  “It is about my singing.”

  “Your singing?” Oh, hell. Was he about to be dragged into a music recital? At this hour? He’d need three or four drinks to numb his ears. Not that he would mind hearing Violet sing, but the others?

  “I think it is important that you join me,” Violet said, casting him a pleading look.

  “Of course.” Bloody damnation.

  Hortensia was still looking at him as though she wanted to bludgeon him, but this appeared to be her natural look.

  He walked inside with Violet and was instantly glad he’d agreed. Forester was not happy to see him, and his sister appeared more than slightly alarmed.

  This wasn’t about warbling a few tunes among friends. “Why are you here, Forester?”

  “I might ask the same of you.” He turned to Violet. “Lady Rawley and I wished to speak to you in private, but I see we’ve come at a bad time. When may we call upon you again?”

  “Tomorrow afternoon. You’ve already been invited. Did you receive Aunt Sophie’s invitation to come to tea tomorrow?”

  “No, we must have gone out before it arrived. We’d love to attend.” Lady Rawley smiled at Violet, but there was an undercurrent of tension in her manner that put Romulus off. What did this pair want with Violet?

  “We’ll see you tomorrow then,” Forester said, bowing over her hand and giving Romulus the curtest of acknowledging nods.

  Romulus crossed his arms over his chest and frowned at Forester’s retreating back. There was something he disliked about the man. It wasn’t jealousy, he would have been more polite if it were simply a matter of that.

  Of course, he would never encourage another man’s pursuit of Violet, but he could understand why another man might want to court her. She was lovely. Sweet. Intelligent. Perfect. But his gut was roiling, and the little hairs on the back of his neck were standing on end. This man was not competing for Violet’s affections.

  This man was not to be trusted.

  Romulus did not yet understand the reason for his unease, only that alarm bells were ringing in his head, and he did not want Violet anywhere near Forester. “You mustn’t see him again, Violet.”

  She laughed off his request. “Don’t be silly. We’ve already invited Lord Forester and his sister to tea. They’re old friends. I cannot take back the invitation. Nor would I wish to take it back.”

  She frowned at him. “What is it you don’t like about him?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Violet now looked as though she wished to bludgeon him. “You don’t know? Yet you expect me to cut an old friend out of my life, just like that?”

  He may have been a bit heavy-handed, but he was only thinking of her safety. “Yes.”

  He caught the disappointment in her eyes and knew he had confused her with a request that seemed illogical. “Please, Violet. I’m not an ogre. Nor am I a jealous, possessive hound. There is more going on here than you realize.”

  “Such as?”

  “As I just said, I don’t know yet. But I need you to trust me.” He ran a hand through his hair in exasperation. Why ever would she agree? She’d known Forester for years and him for two days.

  “Trust,” she said after a thoughtful pause. “This is the key to everything, isn’t it?”

  He nodded. “It is.”

  She gazed up at him with hurt reflected in her eyes. “Then why do you not trust me to make the right decision?”

  Chapter Ten

  Why do you not trust me to make the right decision?

  Violet’s question troubled Romulus, and continued to trouble him as he strode into his brother’s townhouse later that afternoon. He’d tried to explain his reasons to Violet, but they’d sounded weak even to his own ears. “I’m an experienced naval officer,” he’d told her. “My instincts are finely honed to sense danger.”

  His instincts weren’t merely warning him that Forester was no friend to her, they were shouting it at him.

  Her anger had abated somewhat, but she was not happy with him. “I shall offer you a compromise,” she’d said with a calm and logic he had to admire. “Let me hear what he has to say, and then I’ll talk to you about it. But I must be the one to decide what I must do.”

  He had opened his mouth to protest, but she would allow no more and frowned at him. “Trust goes both ways, Romulus. How can I marry someone who doesn’t trust me?”

  That remark still stung.

  He trusted Violet.

  Blessed saints, there was no guile or malice in her heart.

  But Forester and his sister?

  He’d check the silver after a supper party to make certain they hadn’t walked off with any pieces.

  “Rom, you’re looking awfully morose for a man in love,” his brother teased as Romulus entered the study and sank into one of the soft leather chairs beside the fireplace. James had been seated at his desk, but rose to join him.

  His cousins, Tynan and Marcus, were standing with their shoulders propped against the fireplace mantel, each with a glass of brandy in hand.

  They grinned at him as he sat down.

  “The tadpole is in love?” Marcus teased, referring to him by the name given to the youngest Brayden boys. James, Marcus, and Tynan were the eldest and all of them earls. James was Earl of Exmoor. Tynan was Earl of Westcliff, and Marcus was Earl of Kinross.

  Not only were they older, but sometimes insufferable because of their titles. Not that they ever treated him as lesser, but they could never resist playfully taunting him and the younger Brayden boys because that’s just what older brothers did.

  Marcus’s brother Caleb was known as squid because he fell in the middle, between the eldest three and the youngest four. They all still referred to Caleb as squid even though he was General Brayden, and in command of England’s finest royal dragoon units.

  “Shut up, Marcus,” Romulus grumbled, “or I’ll tell your wife you were teasing me. Lara will have you sleeping in the outhouse for a week.”

  Marcus laughingly groaned. “She would do it, too. I don’t know why she’s so fond of you tadpoles.”

  Romulus, Finn, Joshua, and Ronan, said tadpoles, were all close in age and the youngest of the Brayden boys…now men, but not in the eyes of their older brothers.

  “What’s going on, Rom?” Tynan asked, frowning. “How can we help?”

  “I need advice.” This was also the Brayden way, the eight of them always ready to help each other out.

  Romulus flinched as James moved from behind his desk and limped toward him. None of them said anything as he carefully lowered himself into the chair beside Romulus, keeping his bad leg outstretched since he couldn’t quite bend it.

  James’s suffering tore at their hearts, but James would only get angry if he caught any of them pitying him. “You need advice on how to handle a woman?”

  He nodded, annoyed the three of them w
ere now grinning at him. But he was ready to take their teasing because he needed answers. “Violet thinks I don’t trust her.”

  James chuckled, but it was one of commiseration, for he’d likely experienced the same when first meeting his wife, Sophie. “Is she right? Do you trust her?”

  “Yes, of course I do. It’s her so-called friends I’m worried about.” He then went on to explain about his gut feeling. “If Forester’s unannounced visit was so urgent, then why did he and his sister run off like scared rabbits the moment they saw me?”

  “Perhaps it was a harmless attempt to court Violet,” Marcus said. “You’re his competition, and you must admit, we Braydens can be quite intimidating.”

  “The man is a snake. There’s nothing noble in his intentions.”

  “But you also just told us Forester approached Violet in Lady Dayne’s garden last night and backed off when she told him to unhand her. Perhaps he’s just inept at courtship, and you’re putting him on edge. The ill feeling you sense may be aimed only at you, Rom.”

  “I hope so. I’ll rip him apart if he sets a hand on Violet.”

  His brother and cousins exchanged amused glances and then responded by chuckling again.

  “What’s so funny?” Romulus rose to pour himself a brandy and offered one to James.

  But James declined. “It warms my heart to see my little tadpole of a brother in love.”

  He offered to refill the glasses of his cousins, but they also declined, their grins still fixed on their faces.

  Romulus sighed. “Hell, James. Stop calling me a tadpole. Do you know what I am to Violet? Her test frog. So, I suppose this tadpole is now grown up. Violet has this book her sister gave her, supposedly a scientific explanation of the sensations of love and how to arouse a man’s desires to–”

  “Blessed saints! What did you just say?” James was smiling so broadly, his face looked about to crack in half. “And her family is allowing her to read this book?”

  He nodded. “She claims it’s scientific and she is testing the theories out on me. Nothing lewd or suggestive. It’s quite interesting, actually. Harmless so far.” He shrugged. “But it is about love, and we all know matters can get out of hand rather quickly. If it does, I know she’ll be safe with me rather than with some other hound.”

  “Or frog,” Marcus teasingly muttered.

  “A hound like Forester?” Tynan remarked.

  He nodded again. “Her entire family knows the depraved workings of my mind when it comes to Violet, especially after the bee incident.”

  James chuckled. “Frog. Hound. Bee. You’re collecting quite a menagerie.”

  Romulus frowned at him. “But how can any man be trusted around her? She’s so beautiful. Warm, generous, smart. She’s also so damn innocent, I can’t help worrying about her.”

  She still had no idea the power she held over him. One look and she set his blood on fire.

  “I hardly spoke to the girl,” James said, “but she did not strike me as silly. Sophie likes her, too. I trust Sophie’s judgment on such matters. Did you ever consider that women may be smarter than us when it comes to matters of the heart?”

  Romulus rubbed a hand across the back of his neck in consternation. “Violet is young and inexperienced. She’d be the first to agree she knows nothing about men. But perhaps she is cleverer about this Forester matter than I am.”

  Marcus nodded. “She did agree to talk to you about her meeting with Forester after it happened. Lara would toss a plate at my head if I dared tell her who she could or could not talk to.”

  “Seems Violet knows how to handle both you and Forester just fine.” James cast him a discerning glance. “I think you ought to do as she asks. Trust her.”

  Marcus and Tynan agreed.

  “Very well, I shall.” But it still left him with a sick feeling in his stomach.

  *

  Violet hoped this afternoon’s tea would pass without incident. Jameson Forester and his sister, Valerie, had accepted the invitation to attend. However, Violet had also invited Romulus and was worried the two men would butt heads again.

  Romulus was the first to arrive.

  She greeted him with a smile, her heart leaping within her chest at the first sight of him, for he looked incredibly handsome. “You will behave for my sake, won’t you?” she asked, her gaze pleading.

  He took her hand in his and bowed over it. “Yes, Violet. My brother boxed my ears and told me not to be an interfering arse. So, I’ll be polite and quietly grind my teeth while Forester and his sister take you aside.”

  She breathed a sigh of relief. “I will tell you what happens. I don’t mean to keep anything from you, not even if they swear me to secrecy.”

  “Thank you, that puts my mind at ease.”

  When he released her hand, she placed it gently on his arm. “It is important that we trust each other, and just as important to also be willing to share our thoughts and feelings.”

  “Feelings?” He groaned.

  “Yes.” She rolled her eyes and grinned. “This is how we build our intimate bonds. Trust is vital, of course. But so is friendship.”

  “You’re spouting that book again.”

  “And you are showing signs of behaving like a dominant male baboon. I’ve been doing a lot of reading lately. My cousin Lily is presenting a monograph to the Royal Society on the social structure of baboon colonies. The Fellows have not heard it yet, but they’re in high dudgeon and have already got their robes in a twist about it.”

  He gazed at her in amusement. “Isn’t this the Farthingale way?”

  She laughed. “Yes, we never seem to do things quietly. Lily is brilliant. She claims men exhibit the same traits of aggression and possessive territoriality as male baboons. She also claims the baboon colonies are set up quite similarly to our societal order. Of course, the Fellows in the Royal Society are up in arms over her assertion and want her banned from stepping foot in their hallowed halls ever again. But she is right, whether or not they admit it. Do you see how you are tense and gritting your teeth at the mere mention of Lord Forester? This is because you view him as an interloper who is attempting to steal the female you covet. Namely, me. You are angry and intend to chase him out of your territory.”

  Romulus groaned. “Is this what thousands of years of civilization has come to? A book about love and a treatise on the baboon traits of men?”

  Violet overlooked his sarcasm. “I won’t judge the members of your sex too harshly. After all, it seems to be the male low brain function that also brings about our advancements. The homes we live in, the buildings that form a city, the carriages we ride in. The farms that create our food. The fabrics of our clothes.”

  “Women contribute as well,” he remarked.

  She nodded. “Yes, it is a shared effort. But The Book of Love claims it is a woman’s instinct to nest, to maintain a home for her children. We are not the builders, the scientists, or warriors, at least not yet.”

  He placed a finger under her chin and tipped her face up so that their gazes met. “Violet, what are you hoping to find in these books? Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad you enjoy reading,” he said when she opened her mouth to protest. “But you obviously want to be something more than my wife or the mother to our children. Are you worried that I will hold you back?”

  Although she tried to hide it, he saw the uncertainty in her eyes. “I don’t wish to diminish the importance of those roles. Good heavens, we Farthingales are all about family and home. But once we marry, you would be a husband, a father, and a naval commander. So why can I not be a wife, a mother, and something else? My cousin Rose is a talented artist and runs her own business. You probably dine on the plates she designs or take tea in her teacups.”

  “I’m sure my cousin Marcus has had a few thrown at his head,” he said, unable to resist the jest.

  Marcus was a decorated army general, his fame and popularity perhaps on a par with Wellington. But his wife knew just how to keep him in his place
. Lara had only tossed a plate at his head the one time, but no one was ever going to let Marcus live it down.

  After all, that’s what loving cousins were for, to tease and torment each other. But they would close ranks and defend each other to the death if an outsider ever threatened any of them.

  “Lily is a brilliant scientist,” Violet continued. “Laurel is one of the finest horse breeders in London. My Oxfordshire cousins, Belle and Honey, help run one of the largest perfumeries in England.”

  She sighed and shook her head. “Honey and Belle aren’t married yet, but the others are. They are good wives and mothers, and dote on their families.”

  “Which brings us back to that something more you wish to be.”

  “Yes, only I don’t know yet what it is. I expect it will involve my voice since it is a good singing voice.” She glanced at him and laughed. “Honestly, Romulus! You are cringing again.”

  “No, I’m not. Never about you.”

  He cast her such a warm, affectionate look, she could not take offense. Although it was obvious he did not like singing. He seemed to be a reasonable man. They would work it out.

  They spoke no more about the matter as other guests began to arrive.

  The house was filled with the scent of currant scones and the lemon, ginger, and apple spice of the assorted cakes elegantly set out on the parlor tables. Mrs. Mayhew and her kitchen staff had been hard at work all morning to prepare the treacle cakes, maids of honor stuffed with apple jam, and other delights on display.

  While Violet helped her Aunt Sophie greet the new arrivals and ensure all was in order for the afternoon tea, Romulus occupied his time speaking with Lady Dayne and later with Lady Withnall. Of course, the room went silent at the first sound of the thuck, thuck, thuck of her cane, for the little harridan instilled fear in everyone present, even those who held no dark secrets.

  Violet was proud of Romulus when he stepped forward to engage her in conversation, showing no fear. Well, there was little to fear now that they had resolved to marry. If Lady Withnall decided to spread word of the bee incident, any scandal would die out as soon as she became Mrs. Brayden.