The Lady Travelers Guide to Happily Ever After

by Alexander, Victoria

  “A fair number I would imagine, my lord.”

  “An understatement, Andrews.” James snorted. “And inevitably when you find someone who does speak your language and agrees to translate, he absconds with the money you’ve paid him and leaves you on the wrong train.”

  Andrews winced.

  “In Italy, I changed trains in Naples, Rome and Milan. Did you know Italian trains are notorious for never being on time and it’s impossible to count on connections?”

  “No, my lord.”

  “Somehow, I ended up in Switzerland.” James shook his head. He still wasn’t entirely certain how that had happened. “There I encountered a group of elderly female travelers from Sheffield on a Thomas Cook tour. They took me in hand and accompanied me to Paris. From there, I managed the trip to London.”

  A muffled laugh sounded from the open doors of the parlor.

  He narrowed his eyes. “Is that...?”

  “Lady Ellsworth has been waiting for you,” Andrews said. “She returned over a week ago.”

  Good. This would save him the effort of tracking her down. But the very fact that she was here... For the first time in two weeks, something that might well have been hope surged in his veins.

  “Did she?” He braced himself. “And was she alone?”

  “No, my lord.”

  James’s heart sank.

  “She was accompanied by Mr. and Mrs. Davies. They too were quite concerned as to your whereabouts.”

  “Has Lord Welles come by?” he asked casually as if it was of no importance.

  “No, my lord.”

  And wasn’t that good to know.

  “The only callers since Lady Ellsworth’s return have been Mr. and Mrs. Davies, and Mrs. Higginbotham and her friends.” Andrews cast a quick look in the direction of the parlor, leaned closer and lowered his voice. “Lady Ellsworth has been beside herself awaiting your return. She insisted Mr. Davies hire detectives to locate you, but as no one had any idea what route you might have taken, the idea was dismissed. All Lady Ellsworth has done since her return is pace, mostly in the parlor and the library. The maids fear she’ll wear out the carpets.”

  “I see.” That too was good to know.

  James adjusted his cuffs and straightened his tie—not that it made a significant difference. He no doubt looked every bit as weary and bedraggled as he felt. Still, Violet was here, which could only be a good sign. Regardless, they’d been apart longer than the time allotted in the will. Not that his legacy mattered anymore. Violet was the only thing he wanted. The only thing worth having. But he was through trying to prove it to her.

  He strode into the library and right past her. Violet rested against the open door, her eyes twinkling with amusement. She had obviously heard every word.

  “Welcome home.” She grinned and closed the library doors.

  “You find this amusing, do you?”

  Her eyes widened. “It is amusing. But I’m not laughing because I’m amused. I’m laughing because I’m relieved that you’re finally back.”

  “What are you doing here?” He strode across the room to the whiskey decanter, mercifully nearly full.

  “I live here,” she said in an offhand manner. “And I was waiting for you.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I was worried. I wasn’t entirely confident you could find your way home.”

  “Like any respectable retriever I managed.”

  “And because I was wrong.” She stepped toward him. “Dreadfully, horribly wrong. And you were right.”

  “Oh?”

  “You don’t intend to make this easy for me, do you?”

  “Making this easy for you has no great appeal at the moment.”

  “I see.” She took his glass, tossed back the contents, then returned the glass. Obviously she was nervous about this. Good. “First, I owe you an apology.”

  He refilled his glass. “I know.”

  “I should not have doubted you. Even for a moment. And I don’t,” she added quickly. “Nor did it take me long to realize that. You, however, were already gone.”

  “It seemed a good idea at the time. Sacrificing everything to guarantee the happiness of the woman you loved. A grand gesture, that sort of thing.” And then he’d spent the endless journey home trying to figure out where everything had gone wrong and what to do next. He hadn’t been more than an hour out to sea on the first trip to Brindisi when he realized he was being an idiot. That he was doing exactly what he’d accused her of—running away. That regardless of his honorable intentions, this was akin to giving up.

  “I thought it endearing of you.” She paused. “And stupid.”

  “Stupid is perhaps the kindest thing you can say. I will admit I was blinded by the realization that no matter what I did, you might never trust me. Even so, my leaving Greece was not well thought out. I’m not sure what got into me.” He raised his glass to her. “I blame you.”

  “It was possibly my fault,” Violet admitted.

  “Possibly?”

  “Very well.” She squared her shoulders. “It was entirely my fault.”

  “I have come to some conclusions on my endless journey home.”

  “As have I.”

  “Then this will be fun.” He sipped his whiskey and studied her. “I am in love with you.”

  VIOLET NODDED COOLLY, but relief washed through her, dispelling the fear that had gripped her since she’d returned to the hotel. “You said that in Greece.”

  “What I didn’t say is that I have always been in love with you.” He swirled the whiskey in his glass and stared at it for a moment, obviously choosing his words. “All this started when I kissed you six years ago and I realized—”

  “Yes?”

  “Let me finish,” he said sharply. “When I kissed you, I had intended it to be nothing more than a kiss. The kind of kiss I’d shared with any number of girls. But when I kissed you...”

  “Bloody hell, it’s you,” she murmured.

  “You remember that, do you?”

  “I shall never forget it. I thought you were disappointed as you expected me to be Marie.” She drew a deep breath. “I was crushed, heartbroken really. I thought you had finally realized I was the right woman for you.”

  “I did.” He met her gaze directly. “When I kissed you, I was struck by the sure and certain knowledge that you were the right woman—the only woman—for me.”

  She stared.

  “It terrified me.” He blew a long breath. “I didn’t know what to do. I had already come to the conclusion that I wasn’t ready for marriage. I had no idea I wasn’t ready for love, either. So I ignored it and did exactly what you do—I ran. Only my way of running was to put figurative distance between us—that idiocy about living separate lives. Then you left and for a long time I put you out of my head. Or tried, anyway. It’s remarkable how alcohol and disreputable behavior can help you forget how badly you’ve messed everything up.”

  “Go on.” She held her breath.

  “It wasn’t until I began taking on the responsibilities I always should have shouldered, and Uncle Richard began his campaign to reunite us in earnest that I started to suspect how I felt about you, how I had always felt. But I didn’t know what to do. How to fix things between us. You never wanted to see me again.”

  “Well, yes, I said that, but—”

  He held up his hand to quiet her. “I know now I should not have let that stop me and yet it did. In not knowing what to do, I did the worst thing possible.” He shrugged. “I did nothing.” He pinned her with a hard look. “Those days are over.”

  She swallowed hard. “Are they?”

  “Because of the length of our separation, we have now lost Uncle Richard’s legacy. I shall seek employment immediately and we will have to find a new residence.” He looked around the room, r
egret in his eyes. “I shall miss this place, but in the end, it is only a house. The property, the fortune, none of it matters without you.”

  She started to speak then held her tongue. Best to let him finish.

  “I understand you have a trust that has become a tidy fortune.” He paused. “That is your money to do with as you wish, but you will not use it for our support. That is my responsibility.”

  She nodded. Perhaps someday she would tell him how her money had been lost and then found. On the trip home, Cleo had spent hours going through the papers Gerard had given her and had discovered Violet hadn’t lost anything, her funds had simply been the subject of clever manipulation by the comte, apparently at Uncle Richard’s posthumous direction. Clever, diabolical old men.

  “I will not spend the rest of my life trying to prove myself to you.”

  “Nor do you need to,” she said quickly.

  “I do, however, plan to spend the rest of my life making you happy or trying, anyway.”

  An ache settled in her throat and she nodded.

  “I daresay I shall continue to make mistakes.”

  “Terrible decisions and dreadful mistakes?”

  “I hope not but I can’t guarantee that I won’t.” He shook his head. “I have a lot of experience with terrible decisions and dreadful mistakes.”

  “I imagine it’s a difficult habit to break.”

  “I am sorry about losing everything.”

  “You were trying to be my hero.”

  “Not very well, I’m afraid.”

  “On the contrary, James.” She swallowed against the lump in her throat. “I once told you I had stopped believing in heroes.” She gazed into his eyes. “You made me believe.”

  After a long moment, a slow smile spread across his face. “I’ve worn you down, haven’t I? Worked my way back into your affections.”

  “Don’t be smug, James. After all, I do love you.”

  He reached her in one stride and pulled her into his arms. “We shall have a wonderful life, Violet. Filled with love and laughter and the family we shall have together. I am sorry that it will not be quite as affluent as we are accustomed to, but we will be rich in all that matters.”

  “Yes, well, about that.” She hesitated to choose her words. “We have both made terrible decisions and dreadful mistakes. My greatest was not realizing I bear as much responsibility for the past six years as you. I wanted you to fight for me, but I failed to fight for you. So I did—in a manner of speaking, anyway.”

  “Oh?”

  “When Mrs. Higginbotham, Lady Blodgett and Mrs. Fitzhew-Wellmore called, I told them how travel did not agree with you and how dreadfully ill you’d been—entirely true, I might add.” She wrapped her arms around him. “I might also have implied that you had taken to your bed. Here.”

  “You lied to sweet old ladies?” he said slowly.

  “Nonsense. I didn’t lie. I implied.” She tried and failed to look innocent. “And I had excellent legal advice.”

  He laughed. “So much for the moral upper hand.”

  “Nor do I feel the least bit guilty about it.” She sniffed. “Uncle Richard’s stipulations were for no other purpose than to bring the two of us together. They have done so. He would see no reason for you to lose everything now. Nor do I.”

  He laughed then hesitated, his gaze sober. “Welles said you were grateful to me and that’s why you agreed to abide by the will. Is that true?”

  “Of course it is.” She leaned close and brushed her lips across his. “You gave me the world and for that I will be forever grateful. Now, I expect you to give me so much more, as I plan to give you.”

  “About the clause in the will—”

  She pressed her fingers to his lips. “I don’t need to know. I thought I didn’t have the courage to trust you. What I didn’t have was faith. At least not in the beginning. Now...” She gazed into his blue eyes, her heart thudding with pure joy. “You are my hero, Giacomo, and you always will be.”

  He smiled. “The game is over, my darling Violetta.”

  “Shall we call it a draw?”

  “Oh, I’m fairly certain I won.”

  “Did you?”

  “Without question.” He pulled her closer and whispered in her ear, “Bloody hell, Violetta, it’s you.”

  EPILOGUE

  Nearly six years later

  “EVEN AFTER ALL these years, I must confess it still bothers me.” Poppy sighed and gazed out at the children playing in the gardens from her seat on the terrace of Ellsworth House.

  Effie and Gwen traded long-suffering glances. They joined Lord and Lady Ellsworth and an assortment of their friends every year in late spring to mark not their official anniversary but the anniversary of their reunion. And every year Poppy allowed her conscience to pop up like a unrepentant dandelion.

  “You know the letter Richard wrote was very specific about how I was to oversee the stipulations in the will,” Effie said. Again. “His real purpose was true love. Richard had no desire to take away his nephew’s birthright.”

  “Still, we ignored the fact that they had been apart more than the allocated time.” Poppy’s brow furrowed. “Not that they knew we knew of course, but it wasn’t at all difficult to figure out.”

  “Poppy dear.” Gwen leaned forward and met her friend’s gaze firmly. “The end is all that matters, not how we came to be here. Would you change this if you could?”

  “No, I suppose not.” Poppy smiled weakly.

  “I didn’t think so.” Gwen settled back in her chair and watched the children tumble about the lawn. It seemed there was one or two more every year between Lord and Lady Ellsworth and Mr. and Mrs. Davies. There was nothing like seeing the future in the faces of children to lead one to reflect upon the past.

  And every year, life itself was more poignant, more precious. All three friends were well into their eighties and their time was nearly at an end. It was pointless to deny the inevitable. They talked about it on occasion. Rather more frequently than perhaps was wise, wondering about reunions with those who had gone before them. Poppy with her beloved Malcomb, Effie with her dear William and Gwen with Charles, the great love of her life. Death would be well worth it to see his face again.

  “It’s been great fun, hasn’t it?” Effie said abruptly, as if she knew what Gwen had been thinking.

  “What has?” Poppy asked.

  “Oh, all of it. Founding the Lady Travelers Society.” Effie chuckled. “Selling the Lady Travelers Society. Traveling to Egypt. The people we’ve met. The schemes we’ve hatched. The matches we’ve had a hand in.”

  “The hearts we’ve brought together.” Poppy smiled with the memories. “All those people we’ve nudged—”

  Effie snorted. “Pushed.”

  “—toward happily ever after. All those lovely endings.”

  “Goodness, dear, happily ever after is never the end.” Gwen smiled, her mind’s eye skimming over the past—these women who had been her sisters. Those friends they had helped. Charles far in the distance.

  “It’s only, always, just the beginning.”

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