“Says the man with two young children to raise.” Baxter couldn’t help but remind him.
“Yes, well, I’m in the process of searching for a governess so I can ship the lot of them to the country.”
“Your niece and nephew are delightful, well-behaved children. I can see how much they already mean to you, regardless of whether you want to admit it.”
“I don’t know how to raise them properly. I’m the worst person to do so, and I set a poor example. But they never seem to behave for the servants. Which is why I’m in search of the right governess. More difficult to find than you’d expect.”
“I can understand that you need a way to direct their energy, but don’t send them away. They lost their parents and need you.” Baxter should think that was obvious.
Beaumont only shook his head. “They’ll be better off if they only see me at holidays.”
Odd, but he didn’t seem pleased by the idea.
As the afternoon began to wane, everyone made the preparations to leave. The ride back to London was quiet, the young ones sleeping soundly on the drive.
They dropped off Viscount Beaumont and the children, the viscount insisting they continue to their homes in his coach. Though his friend might protest his unexpected burden, he was gentle with his niece and nephew. Baxter hoped he changed his mind about sending the children to the country with a governess. Beaumont needed them as much as they needed him from what Baxter could see.
Baxter took the liberty of bringing Violet close to him on the tufted bench as they drove the short distance to their houses. She settled against him, and it felt as if she belonged there.
When the coach drew to a halt, he asked, “Would you come inside before you return home?”
“Only for a moment. My family will be expecting me.”
He assisted her to alight, and they entered his house. All was quiet in the drawing room, though a bright fire warmed the room. “Mother and Father must be upstairs,” he said.
“I’m sure the stairs are still difficult for your father.”
“I wanted to show you what I brought back from India for Mother for Christmas.” He withdrew a small box from behind a large vase on one of the shelves and handed it to her.
“What is it?” she asked. At his nod, she lifted the lid and moved aside the tissue nestled inside. With careful movements, she drew the crystal piece from the box. “It’s beautiful. She’ll have her own Christmas star.”
Baxter stiffened. He hadn’t thought of the design as being a star. But Violet was right. It looked much like the Christmas star he’d wished on so many weeks ago.
For a life as big and bright and as full of hope and joy as the star.
As he stared into Violet’s lovely blue eyes, he had to wonder if his wish might be coming true in an unexpected way.
Chapter Eleven
The Stavertons’ holiday ball was that same night, the evening before Christmas Eve, and Violet had been looking forward to it for weeks. Even more so now that she knew Baxter would be in attendance.
She should be tired after their outing to gather evergreens but with her heart singing, how could she be? She loved that Baxter had shown her his gift for his mother. Somehow, she felt like his doing so meant something special.
After dressing in a new gown, a rich green that spoke of Christmas, she considered her appearance in the mirror, hoping she looked her best. She adored the needlework on the bodice of the gown and couldn’t resist running a finger over the intricate stitches.
She knew Baxter wouldn’t be at her side the entire evening. Far from it. He had many others to speak with and friends he hadn’t seen since he’d left for India. Spending too much time with her would only create gossip. But with luck, she’d dance with him again. She tingled with excitement at the idea.
Tomorrow, they’d decorate his parents’ home. His father was feeling well enough that he was planning to spend the day downstairs. She intended to ask him to join in the fun by helping make a special bough for the mantle. He’d enjoy participating, she thought, which caused her to smile.
Yet she was also keenly aware that each day that brought Christmas closer also brought Baxter’s departure closer. She could hardly bear the thought. Calling upon the Adleys after he left would be bittersweet. Yet she couldn’t abandon them when they might need her most once he’d gone.
She closed her eyes and drew a deep breath, hoping to shove aside the worries and bury them for a few more days. Worrying over what was to come wouldn’t make it go away. Enjoying the time she had with Baxter was all she could do.
With her cloak over her arm, she descended the stairs and entered the drawing room to find her father waiting, a drink in hand and a smile on his still handsome face.
“Good evening, Father.” She moved forward to kiss his cheek.
“Don’t you look lovely, Violet?” He set aside his glass and took both her hands. “You are an embodiment of Christmas cheer.”
Compliments from her father always made her feel special. “Thank you. May I say how very handsome you look this evening?”
He executed a bow in his black suit and white shirt, his smile hinting at the rogue he must’ve been in his younger days.
“Are we ready?” her mother asked as she came into the room. She frowned at Violet’s dress. “Are you certain that gown is a wise choice for the evening? It is very...green.”
Hurt stabbed at Violet, but she reminded herself that her mother rarely liked anything her daughters wore. “I think it’s quite festive.”
Her mother looked resigned if doubtful. “If you insist.”
Not for the first time, Violet wished her mother was more accepting of others. She knew Lettie had struggled with the lack of approval as well.
“We should go, shouldn’t we?” Violet asked as she looked at her father.
He winked at her and offered his arm. They were soon in the carriage and drawing to a halt before the Stavertons’ mansion. Candles glowed in all the windows, and the front door was festooned in greenery.
After greeting their hosts, her father went in one direction, her mother another, leaving Violet searching for support. She knew Lillian would be here and looked for her. It was moments like this when she was reminded of her lack of courage. Standing alone in her green dress, she felt uncertain and vulnerable. She was used to being near her older sisters or friends, but none were in sight this evening.
With a deep breath, she focused on not giving in to the desire to find a wall to hover by. She lifted her chin, determined to be brave.
“Miss Fairchild,” Lady Alice greeted her as she came to stand beside her.
Of all people to speak to her, why did it have to be Alice? Was this some kind of test? Violet forced a smile, determined to take the higher road. “Enjoying the ball?”
“I am.” Alice’s gaze skimmed Violet’s gown, a puzzled look on her face as though she was amused.
“Good evening, ladies.” Baxter’s deep voice had never sounded better to Violet.
He looked especially handsome this evening, his dark hair a bit longer than it had been upon his arrival, his green eyes as entrancing as ever. That gaze shifted from her to hold briefly on Alice then back again. “You look lovely this evening, Violet.”
“Thank you.” She wanted to reach for his arm, knowing his touch would ease her nerves. Instead, she settled for a genuine smile, hoping he would appreciate it.
“Baxter.” Alice held out her hand, expecting him to take it.
Which of course he did. It was the polite thing to do. No need for Violet to feel a sharp pang of envy just because Alice was doing the very thing Violet longed to do. Suddenly, smiling felt terribly ineffective.
“It’s so good to see you again.” The light in Alice’s expression suggested she was very pleased.
That had Violet biting her lip. Alice was truly an attractive woman and confident. So confident that she stepped close to him, effectively cutting off Violet.
“I wanted to
speak with you for a moment,” Alice said, drawing Baxter forward. “In private.”
“Will you excuse us for a moment?” he asked Violet.
Violet nodded, drawing a deep breath as the pair walked away. A few moments later, she saw them on the dance floor.
In that instant, Violet realized she hadn’t learned anything over the past few weeks. She might have found a temporary purpose by assisting the Adleys but nothing more. They didn’t truly need her. Had never needed her. Nor did Baxter.
She was still the same person who lacked the courage to take action. She’d just allowed Alice to walk away with Baxter without so much as a protest.
The realization stung. Painfully so.
Yet fighting for his attention seemed like the wrong path. If Alice was who he wanted, if she was the person who’d truly make him happy, then Violet would wish them well and step away from him and his family.
He deserved happiness. She knew how much he’d sacrificed when he’d left behind everything familiar to start a business in India. Snippets from his parents, as well as Baxter, had revealed that. Happiness seemed a fitting payment. But it wasn’t in her power to provide it.
All she could do was stay out of his way. The last thing she wanted was for him to feel uncomfortable because she insisted on seeing through with her ridiculous plans for Christmas.
The lump in her throat had her swallowing hard. She glanced down at her gown, wondering if for once her mother was right and it was too much.
How she wished Lillian or Lettie or one of her other sisters were here. A glance about showed Baxter and Alice still on the dance floor, their steps matching perfectly. Baxter smiled, bending his head toward Alice as though wanting to catch every word she uttered. They looked like an ideal couple together.
With a shuddering breath, she turned away, her hopes for what might have been dashed. She shook her head, needing to be honest with herself. Far more than her hopes were damaged—her heart was broken. Staying here to watch the scene unfold served no purpose.
With quick steps, she found a passing servant and asked him to tell her mother that she wasn’t feeling well and had returned home.
In short order, she sat in the cold carriage, alone, wishing things had turned out differently. The pieces of her heart felt jagged and painful, and she knew beyond a doubt that they wouldn’t ever fit back together again.
~*~
“I had to ask if it was true,” Alice said as they turned on the dance floor, one brow raised, an excited light in her eyes.
“What might that be?” he asked with some trepidation. Anything that had Alice this animated couldn’t be good. He’d thought to answer her question and return to Violet’s side, but she’d walked directly to the dance floor.
“That your business has attracted the interest of Bertie,” she continued. Ah. That explained her excitement. Her obvious interest didn’t change the realization that he no longer cared for her or what she thought.
“Prince Edward had an interest in a few things I was able to acquire for him.” In fact, the prince’s attention and influence had opened a new path to Baxter’s business he hadn’t anticipated. One that might allow him to continue the import side from London rather than living in Bombay, based on the message that had been waiting for him upon his return home from his outing with Violet. There were still many details to consider, but the opportunity held great promise.
Not that he intended to share any of that with Alice. The only people he wanted to tell, once his plans became clear, were his parents and Violet. But he didn’t want to get their hopes up yet.
Alice smiled knowingly, as though she suspected him of being modest. She shifted closer as they spun, her body bumping deliberately against his, something that would no doubt start gossip if the wrong person saw it.
He refused to become entangled in her snare, so he just as quickly drew back, stiffening his arms so she couldn’t repeat the move.
Anxious to return to Violet, he searched the edges of the dance floor for her, hoping she waited for him, but he couldn’t see her from where they danced.
“I was sorry to hear your father has taken ill.” The small smile on Alice’s lips disturbed him. “I do hope he’ll recover.”
Baxter didn’t appreciate her tone. Somehow it suggested that she hoped quite the opposite. He well remembered his father had told him that he didn’t care for her.
“Actually, he’s expected to make a full recovery as he merely slipped on the ice.”
Her smile slid into what looked suspiciously like a scowl. “I do hope now that you’ve returned, we can renew our...relationship.” She eased her thumb against his palm in a suggestive manner.
Why did the gesture make him feel dirty rather than desirous? Did she think that he didn’t see through her interest in him now that he had money and the attention of the prince?
As Baxter took the next turn with Alice, he realized he didn’t admire the color of her eyes—they were completely the wrong shade of blue—nor the way she looked at others—as though they were beneath her. What had he ever seen in her?
He made an unexpected turn, swinging her toward the edge of the dance floor. “I’m afraid I just remembered something to which I must attend.”
Indeed. He’d remembered the fact that he’d rather dance with Violet.
“What?” Alice’s obvious displeasure confirmed his feelings. She was not for him.
“I’m not interested in renewing our relationship. Our lives have taken different paths, but please know that I wish you happiness.” He kept himself from adding that he didn’t think she’d find it.
He only wanted to focus on his own. He walked away, in search of Violet, only to realize she was nowhere to be found.
~*~
The next morning, Baxter studied the pile of greenery Samuel had brought into the drawing room ready to be hung. He’d expected Violet to have arrived by now. He hoped all was well, but with each minute that passed, he felt certain it wasn’t.
He’d been disappointed when he’d realized she left the ball the previous evening, but knowing he’d be with her today had taken the sting out of it.
Where could she be?
A knock on the front door made him smile. He strode toward the foyer but didn’t hear her feminine tones. Watsford closed the door, a message in hand.
“Was that Miss Fairchild’s footman?” Baxter asked.
“Indeed, sir. He’s delivered a message for your mother.”
“I’ll take it to her.” Baxter resisted the temptation to open it himself and hurried up the stairs to where she and his father sat in the sitting room.
He waited impatiently for his mother to read it.
“Violet sends her apologies but is feeling under the weather. She won’t be joining us.”
Disappointment speared through Baxter. “She seemed fine at the ball.” Though he supposed that would explain her abrupt departure.
“How disappointing,” his father said. “She’s going to miss the festivities she worked so hard to plan.”
Something struck Baxter as wrong. Terribly wrong. But he could hardly march over to her house and demand to see her, regardless of whether she was ill.
As the day dragged on, he considered doing just that. He, Watsford, and Samuel hung some of the evergreen boughs for the sake of his parents, but he lacked Violet’s vision for the task. In truth, he detested doing it without her as it only made him miss her more. They brought in the small tree and set it in front of the window, but he couldn’t bring himself to hang the strands of cranberries on it.
Nothing was right without her.
His mother and father joined him, declaring their efforts a success. Yet even their spirits seemed dimmed by Violet’s absence.
That left him no choice. He donned his coat and hat then strode to the Fairchild’s residence and knocked on the door.
“Miss Violet Fairchild, please,” Baxter said and handed him his card.
The footman walked away, l
eaving Baxter to wait in the empty drawing room. To his surprise, not one item in the room suggested it was Christmas Eve. No greenery, no holly, and certainly no mistletoe.
A girl hesitated in the doorway, a young version of Violet with slightly sharper, gangly edges. “Are you Mr. Adley?” she asked. “Mr. Baxter Adley?”
“Yes, I am. I’ve come to call on Miss Violet Fairchild.”
“I’m her sister, Holly.” The young girl scowled as she studied him. “She says she’s not feeling well.”
Did that mean she was truly ill? Yet something in the way Holly had emphasized “says” had him hesitating. “I’m sorry to hear that. We were expecting her to call upon us this afternoon.” He hoped Holly understood his meaning.
“She came home from the ball early last evening, terribly upset.”
“Oh?” Baxter frowned. “Do you know why?”
“She mentioned Lady Alice was in attendance.”
His thoughts caught on the moment he’d stepped away with Alice, leaving Violet alone. How stupid of him. He should’ve understood how that made Violet feel.
A churning ball formed in the pit of his stomach. He should’ve realized how his allowing Alice to draw him to the dance floor would’ve looked to Violet. But he thought she understood he’d return. How he wished he’d asked her to wait for him. A terrible sinking feeling formed in the pit of his stomach. Had Violet thought he’d chosen Alice over her?
Oh no.
“I need to speak with her,” Baxter said. “It’s imperative that I do.”
The scowl returned to Holly’s face. “I don’t believe I can do anything to help with that.”
He searched for her meaning. Obviously, Holly wanted to help, but her loyalty remained with her sister. “Could I assist in some manner?”
“Possibly.” Her pleased expression suggested he was on the right path.
What he really wanted to do was march upstairs and knock on Violet’s door rather than play this game. As that wasn’t possible, what could he do?
She glanced over her shoulder again as though wanting to be certain she wouldn’t be caught speaking to him. “It might take a gesture of some sort to convince her to listen to you.”
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