Her climax was, it seemed, all that Max needed. With a moan that sounded more anguished than ecstatic, the escalation of his thrusts increased until, with a final cry, he collapsed on top of her, slick with sweat and breathing heavily.
For a long moment he lay there, spent. Heavy, and she loved it. Until, finally, he rolled off her and lay beside her, still breathing heavily.
“Zounds, Violet, that was the best tupping I’ve ever enjoyed,” he gasped, drawing her laughingly within the crook of his arm.
Violet smiled. What else could she do? She was happy in a sense. He cared for her. She knew he did, and that his feelings went deeper and were more sincere than she’d experienced from any man.
She was happy that she’d given him pleasure, and that he’d given her the opportunity to give pleasure to his aunt in a less sullied sense. Miss Thistlethwaite had shown the kind of simple affection that was only a far-distant memory for Violet.
But it had been an important reminder of the goodness of ordinary people when Violet only existed in a world where hearts, minds, and bodies were traded for coin.
“Violet, you’re crying.”
He sounded genuinely distressed as he raised himself on one elbow and touched his forefinger to the dampness that streamed down her cheeks.
“Please, I want us to be happy together this last night.” He tucked his hands beneath her knees and sat up, cradling her like a baby. “Is it the restrictions? The corset? Did I hurt you?” Feverishly he began to unlace her until the heavily boned garment fell away.
And while Violet could breathe more easily, it did nothing to bring her comfort.
“You know perfectly well while I’m crying. You’re leaving me. You’re going away, and I’ll never see you again.” She gasped in a breath and put her hands to her eyes. “I can’t pretend not to feel what I do feel so deeply for you, Max.”
He pressed her face against his chest and stroked her hair. “Violet, I don’t know what to say. I’ve been honest with you from the start.”
She scrunched up her eyes, forcing a smile as she opened them, pushing back to look at him. “These are not recriminations, Max. Yes, you’ve been honest from the start, as I have.” She tried to breathe evenly but her emotions would not allow it. “Oh, you’ve not misled me at all.” She raised a hand to stay his words. “I know you have to leave me. I just…” She heaved in another shaky breath. “I just didn’t think I’d grow so fond of you.”
“Fond of me, are you, eh? Well, I’d hope so in view of all this.” He tried to make it into a joke, but he sounded strained. And was quick to realise even he couldn’t make light of the affair.
He swallowed. Gravely, he said, “I’ve just gained my freedom, Violet. After Mabel left me at the altar, I visited you to celebrate the fact that at last my life was my own.”
“Yes, Max. You told me that. Before you even undid my top button, you told me exactly why you were paying me to do what you’d never felt able to do before—sow your wild oats. I understand you.” Wearily, she ran a hand across her forehead. “I know you could never ally yourself to a woman like me because of what I am.”
“No, you’re wrong, Violet. I’d be proud to do so…if the circumstances were right. If I wasn’t going away…”
She shrugged. “Well, I daresay I couldn’t have borne being the secret part of your life and only able to enjoy you when you drew back into the shadows.”
“Lord, I’d not take a wife and a mistress, Violet. Surely you understand that about me!”
She laughed. “Oh, so you’d have to decide whether to make me wife or mistress then. I think I know your grandfather’s views on that.”
“He’ll have no say over the decisions I make for my future. No Violet, you know how I feel about you, surely you do.” He tapped his heart, his expression earnest. “I’ve never felt so strongly here about anyone.”
“But you’re going away.”
He couldn’t look at her. “You know it’s what I’ve intended since the beginning,” he said softly. “My boat sails in two days, and I will be aboard it, heading towards freedom and adventure.”
She wilted in his arms. “While I shall be Lord Bainbridge’s mistress before the week is over because he offers me the most security I could hope for—and that’s thanks to you, Max, for piquing his jealousy. So, something good has come out of all this.”
“Violet?” He clearly was disconcerted by her flippancy as she gently disengaged herself from his embrace and swung her legs over the edge of the bed.
She turned, smiling. “Thank you for the most marvellous three weeks of my life, Max. You’ve given me more than I ever expected.”
Chapter 14
“My Lord, is there anything final you wish to pack in your trunk before I seal it?”
It took his valet three attempts to gain Max’s attention, and then Max could manage only a cursory shake of his head as he reclined upon the sofa doing absolutely nothing for, in truth, he could not quite whip up the enthusiasm he’d expected he’d be feeling for his impending journey. “If I think of anything during my short trip up-country, I’ll send a message.”
“You’re leaving town, my Lord? Am I to accompany you?”
It was hardly surprising Baines sounded so surprised. Max had only just hit upon the idea himself.
His studied the signet ring on his right hand. His father’s. His father had been a young blade in his time, so the rumours went. What would he be advising Max?
And would it be advice Max would consider for even a moment? The more Max heard about his reprobate father, the less he wanted to be associated with a young lord renowned for his drink and womanising.
His grandfather, by contrast, was the scrooge of the family. He certainly was not the man upon whom to model himself.
He noticed Baines was still waiting, and that he seemed rather tense. Max waved a languid hand towards the window; its curtains pulled back to reveal the gloomy day outside.
“I’ve just had news that our sailing is to be delayed by twenty-four hours. Apparently, there’s a storm nearly upon us.”
“Yet you propose to go up-country?”
Max sighed. “Either that or drive myself mad waiting here. You know very well all my energies these past three weeks have been directed towards boarding that ship.”
He sent Baines a sharp glance at his silence, then chuckled. “I admit there have been diversions.” With a sigh, he rose and walked rather aimlessly towards the rain-streaked window. “But that is in the past, and now my future beckons. My wonderful future without my grandfather or anyone else telling me how to live my life,” he added, more to himself. He wished he could feel more excited about it.
Forcing a more robust note, he added, “Without the eternal yoke of constraint, I shall throw myself into a surfeit of adventure. And Grandfather will be able to do nothing about it.”
“About what, Max?”
Surprised, and considerably disconcerted, Max turned to find Mabel in the doorway advancing towards him, a look of equal surprise upon her face. She looked a little less orderly than usual with her skirts rain-spattered, and the blooms that adorned her bonnet clinging limply to its brim.
“Why, Max; aren’t you supposed to be on your wedding tour? But of course,” she added, a look of understanding crossing her face as she glanced through the window at the grey sky. “Your sailing has been delayed. Where’s Violet?”
Max sent an anxious look in Baines’s direction and indicated with a nod that he was dismissed. He took a few steps towards the cluster of seats arranged in front of the fire and indicated for Mabel to sit.
“Not here at the moment,” he said, taking a wingback chair opposite her while his mind spun. Mabel would learn the truth one way or another, but as she was none the wiser now, the longer he could keep her in the dark the better. Mabel could be surprisingly indiscreet at times and would be seeing his aunt shortly.
“Visiting her grandmother,” he added, with only a split second required fo
r inspiration.
“Goodness, yes; the tyrannical Miss Lilywhite of Ruislip, though that’s a bit of a distance, is it not? And why did you not accompany her?”
With raised eyebrows, she went on, “Your aunt was telling me all about the woman, and she sounds grim. Does she not approve of you?” Mabel untied her bonnet and began smoothing her hair as only a very close friend would do in company. “That wind made quite a tangle of it when it blew my bonnet right off my head. Would you please see what you can do to set things straight at the back?”
Obediently, Max rose and went to stand behind the sofa where Mabel sat so he could render the assistance she requested. It was not a surprising thing to be asked in view of their familiarity over so many years, yet he’d never run his hands through her hair.
“What do you want me to do?”
“Goodness, Max; it should be perfectly obvious. Just tidy what needs tidying. Violet is no doubt going to ask you to do this a thousand times, so I suppose you can take directions from me so you won’t be such a disappointment.” She twisted her head to look impishly up at him. “Sweet and pliant that I am, let this be a reminder of how lucky you are that between us, we’ve finally got your future on the right path.” She sighed and stared ahead while Max tucked some errant strands into her coiffure, and she chattered on. “Now we just have to find a husband for me.”
Max grunted. He wasn’t attending to her last phrase, but rather the words that should have been prophetic regarding his future with Violet.
“I am so glad you found her, Max, even if it was in a shop.”
In the midst of repositioning a hairpin, Max blinked as her words entered his consciousness. He’d been too busy imagining it was Violet’s lustrous dark locks he was smoothing and fashioning.
“A shop.” How he wished it had been a shop. Longing speared him. If Violet were sitting in front of him right now, he’d be burying his face in her hair, unable to resist the temptation of allowing them to roam more adventurously. Maybe they’d find themselves in bed, though at this hour with the servants about it was more likely he’d take her on a jaunt somewhere she’d enjoy. He’d have liked to have shown her his London.
“You’re lucky times have changed, even in a few short years, Max. Of course, your grandfather lives in the past. He’ll still be furious when he learns the truth, but the fact is that it is less uncommon for a shop girl to marry someone like you—especially if she’s very beautiful, like Violet, of course. Peers are even marrying actresses these days. Well, Violet’s grandmother is perfectly respectable, so it’s not like she won’t be received.”
Max stilled, the truth warring within him. He’d not expected Mabel to be so open-minded. He exhaled. No, she still could not be trusted with the facts. And besides, Violet’s grandmother might be a figment of Violet’s imagination. He wasn’t sure how much pure truth she’d told him. He certainly believed the terrible story of her parents’ murder, but what grandmother of any social credibility would do what Miss Lilywhite’s had apparently done? While he wanted to believe Violet with all his heart, in every respect, he had to cling to this one doubt as exoneration for him leaving her.
And leave her, he must. He was desperate to flee England with its stifling constraints and forge a different life from the one his grandfather had carved out for him.
Of course, if he had been looking for a wife, he would have contemplated Violet. Despite everything.
But he wasn’t, and he needed to pile up the excuses as to why his original course was still the best and only course for him to follow.
“So, when are you expecting Violet? This evening I’d imagine if you are to board tomorrow. I must say, it is taking a risk, but then Violet strikes me as a girl who’s not averse to a bit of adventure and risk-taking. Not like me at all.” Mabel sounded quite sanguine. Max decided it was safer to remain standing behind her so she couldn’t see his face.
Mabel sighed happily. “Oh Max, she is just perfect for you. She is so striking in looks, and bold and brave, which is just what you need. And she’s kind, too. Your aunt simply adores her. I do hope I’ll see her before the two of you set sail.”
Max reached round to hand Mabel her bonnet. “Sadly, you won’t, as I’m heading up to Ruislip this evening to bring Violet back,” he said. “She’s not expecting me to come, but that’ll make her smile, eh?”
Mabel agreed, but the smile that came to Max’s mind was Violet’s.
And that was the reason he had to leave London. Otherwise, the memory of Violet’s smile would drive him mad and he’d go and visit her.
And, at this very moment, almost, she was setting herself up as Lord Bainbridge’s mistress. Probably packing up her worldly possessions just as he was.
Mabel glanced at the dark clouds through the window.
“Surely Violet is halfway home already? Ruislip is a goodly distance.”
“I’ll ride,” Max said. “If I leave now, I’ll get there before dark and we can take the carriage back together in time to embark.”
There was a certain catharsis in action. Not that Max knew, exactly, where he’d go. Certainly not to Ruislip.
“Sorry Mabel, but I must leave now. Do make yourself at home for as long as you like. And give Aunt Euphemia my regards when she’s back from Cornwall. I promise I shall write to you both.”
Half an hour later and he was nearly on his way. Mabel was horrified to see that he was dressed in riding attire when she insisted on farewelling him on the top step.
His horse had been brought round; the eager white mare flicking its ears in the drizzle as she stamped her hooves and snorted in the frosty air. He’d miss the old girl, but there would be compensations in that magical land across the sea.
For a moment, he closed his eyes and tried to imagine the grassy African veldt that had beckoned so powerfully only weeks ago. When that didn’t materialise, he conjured up the sparking gold and diamonds that might be the result of a lucky strike in the diggings—once he got there.
But the only gold or diamonds he could envisage were those he’d love to see adorning Violet’s creamy white throat.
“You’ll catch your death, Max.” Mabel hugged herself and stamped her feet to ward off the cold as she stood on the top step. “Violet will understand if you don’t come to fetch her. Let her return in the carriage.” She sighed and added a little wistfully, “Though I daresay you can’t bear to be away from each other a moment longer.”
Max nodded. “Goodbye, Mabel.” He held out his hand to his old friend and was pleased when she moved to embrace him. He wanted to know there was no bad blood between them since he didn’t know how long it would be before he saw her again.
But her words stayed in his mind. He couldn’t bear to be away from Violet at this moment, it was true, but he couldn’t be with her, either. It would be fatal to see her again, which was why he’d had to resort to some vigorous exercise in this ridiculously inclement weather. Anything to keep himself occupied while he whiled away the time until he could board his ship.
Without any notion of where he was going, he set off in the direction of his grandfather’s estate, though of course he had no intention of going there.
But he had to go somewhere and so he headed west. A brisk, hour-long canter in that direction might work off his agitation and he could return later that night to a hot bath, a fortifying whiskey, and then bed where he’d spend his final night under English skies.
He’d have all of tomorrow to make any final preparations, as long as he was at the docks by four in the afternoon.
It was a relief to leave the traffic behind him and to at last be amidst meadowed fields and quiet woods.
He imagined Violet readying herself for Lord Bainbridge, a thought which made him feel physically ill. He hoped the additional funds he’d deposited into her account would make her think more kindly towards him.
Not that he feared on that score. Violet had been remarkably accepting. Some females in her position would have gone all o
ut to stick their claws in as deeply as they could. They’d have used reproaches and pretended Max had gone back on his word.
Violet, of course, had made it clear how much she wanted him to stay, but she’d done it so sweetly. If Max had had any intention of remaining in England, he would have stayed with her.
She was the most beautiful…and the most beautifully natured…female he’d ever come across.
The steady drizzle by late afternoon, and the effort it took to avoid the muddy puddles, whose depth he could not gauge, should have taken all his attention yet still his mind wandered back to Violet.
How he wished he could think of something else. It was too dismal to dwell on her sad life and how much she’d lost.
He passed a hovel on the outskirts of a village and a couple of scrawny, ragged children, each with a dead rabbit slung over his shoulder. Violet was lucky compared with them, he reminded himself. There were thousands of young women in her position and Max, tenderhearted though he was, couldn’t play philanthropist to them all.
He’d reasoned this out many times.
Yet, he did wish he could finish up with one last, fitting gesture before he left English soil. A gesture that would bring a little joy and solace to Violet. Something that came from the heart, but which suggested no weakening on his part.
The thought presented itself to him quite suddenly when he saw the name carved into a stone with an arrow pointing in the direction he was travelling, though he was about to turn back.
Ruislip.
It wasn’t so great a distance further. In all likelihood, it’s where he’d intended to go from the outset, if he was prepared to admit it.
By the time he reached the turnoff for Ruislip, Max wasn’t at all sure it was a good idea to follow his inclination to deviate via the village. What could be gained by it other than a cursory glance at the house where Violet claimed to have spent her last few years? The house of an unloving grandmother who was fast losing her mind, according to his aunt’s reports. Max certainly had nothing to say to her.
Wedding Violet (Fair Cyprians of London Book 4) Page 12