A Viscount for Violet: The Blooming Brides Book 4

by St. Clair, Ellie

  A Viscount for Violet

  The Blooming Brides Book 4

  Ellie St. Clair

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Epilogue

  THE DUKE SHE WISHED FOR

  Chapter 1

  Also by Ellie St. Clair

  About the Author

  ♥ Copyright 2019 by Ellie St Clair - All rights reserved.

  In no way is it legal to reproduce, duplicate, or transmit any part of this document in either electronic means or in printed format. Recording of this publication is strictly prohibited and any storage of this document is not allowed unless with written permission from the publisher. All rights reserved.

  Respective authors own all copyrights not held by the publisher.

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  Cover by AJF Designs

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  Also By Ellie St. Clair

  Standalone

  Unmasking a Duke

  Christmastide with His Countess

  Happily Ever After

  The Duke She Wished For

  Someday Her Duke Will Come

  Once Upon a Duke’s Dream

  He’s a Duke, But I Love Him

  Loved by the Viscount

  Because the Earl Loved Me

  Happily Ever After Box Set Books 1-3

  Happily Ever After Box Set Books 4-6

  Searching Hearts

  Duke of Christmas

  Quest of Honor

  Clue of Affection

  Hearts of Trust

  Hope of Romance

  Promise of Redemption

  Searching Hearts Box Set (Books 1-5)

  The Unconventional Ladies

  Lady of Mystery

  Lady of Fortune

  Lady of Providence

  Lady of Charade

  Blooming Brides

  A Duke for Daisy

  A Marquess for Marigold

  An Earl for Iris

  A Viscount for Violet

  1

  1813

  Violet closed her eyes and sighed in contentment. There was nothing quite like the thrill of anticipation when beginning a new story.

  Finally. She had spent the morning determined to finish her household tasks as quickly as possible so she could sneak away to spend at least an hour here, in one of her quiet places. She opened the book in front of her, inhaling the scent of the ink upon the crisp pages.

  She had visited the small book section of the general store just yesterday. She had convinced her father to part with a few coins, emphasizing the need to bolster the shelves of the sitting room in the family’s inn. Her father had reluctantly agreed after Violet demonstrated the number of boarders who frequented the room and perused the shelves for something in which they might be interested. She had been sure to pick up a few volumes recounting historic battles or exploits of various explorers, but she had also snuck in a gothic novel and a book of sonnets to add to her collection.

  She opened the novel now with a swirl of emotions.

  On the one hand, there was seldom a romance she didn’t enjoy. On the other…

  She wasn’t sure if it was the marriages of her sisters or her own recent misplaced emotions and attraction, but Violet was beginning to despair that the closest she might ever come to finding true love herself would be through the heroines in the pages of her books.

  For one thing, she was likely never going to leave this sleepy town, as much as she loved it, and for another, the boarders who arrived here hardly even acknowledged her existence, besides the fact that she put food in front of them and cleaned their rooms.

  She sighed. She was being as dramatic as her sister Iris. Back to her book.

  Violet tucked a piece of hair behind her ear and leaned back into the cushion she had placed on the bench in the corner of the garden behind the inn. If there was one thing her mother paid attention to, it was her flowerbeds, and Violet certainly reaped the benefits of it. She was the only one who ever seemed to spend any time in here, besides her mother, and she loved the colors of the blooms and the scent of the sea that continually hung in the air around the inn.

  She set the book on her knees, but just as she began to read, a voice filled her ears — one she had been listening to her entire life and at this moment in time, she would dearly love to ignore.

  “Violet! Violet, where are you? Oh, I know you are in here, I saw you enter the gardens. Don’t pretend you can’t hear me.”

  Maybe if she ignored her long enough, Iris would truly believe she was elsewhere. But no. In moments, her sister was standing in front of her, hands planted on her hips, though Violet kept her eyes on her book.

  “Violet, I know you would much rather read than listen to anything I have to say, but this is good news,” Iris said, and Violet finally lifted her eyes to her sister, who stood there looking as vivacious as ever, a lavender dress draped over her generous curves, a smile on her red lips.

  “Yes?”

  “Daisy has arrived!”

  “Oh, wonderful!” Violet exclaimed, true joy filling her. All three of her sisters had married in the past year. Daisy spent most of her time with her husband in London, Marigold at her husband’s estate in the relatively close Cambridge. Iris and her husband were living at the inn as he remained in hiding, for his identity was known to the French, on whom he had spied.

  “No need to rise, Vi,” she heard Daisy say, and Violet ignored her and surged to her feet. “We shall come to you.”

  “Oh, Daisy, I am so glad to see you!” Violet said, rushing into the arms of her eldest sister, seeing Marigold trailing along behind. Her stomach was still flat, but Violet could practically see the look of joy on Marigold’s face as she had just found out she was expecting. “It seems like it has been so long.”

  “It has, hasn’t it?” Daisy asked. Then she waved a hand to the other nearby benches. “Shall we sit for a moment?”

  “Of course,” Violet said, putting her book down underneath her, unable to ignore the slightest tinge of regret that she hadn’t had time to begin it. Later, she promised herself as Marigold’s dog, Clover, raced into the garden and brushed against her feet. “Tell us of London and all of your magnificent estates.”

  And so they did. Violet hoped they wouldn’t ask of all that had recently occurred at the inn, but Daisy had questions.

  “I hear there was quite a bit of excitement recently,” she said, and Iris and Violet exchanged a look before Iris nodded.

  “I suppose it is to be expected when the inn continues to welcome men recently returned from war,” Iris said before beginning her retelling. She dragged out the story much longer than necessary, but Violet was grateful she left out some of the details.

  “I don’t understand,” Daisy said. “How did the French spy, Comtois, know so much about Iris’ husband, Lord Westwood?”

  “I suppose because he was a spy,” Iris said after an awkward pause. “That is what he does.”

  “That is not it at all,” Violet countered, unable to look at her sisters. “It was because I told him.”

 
“You what?” Daisy asked.

  “He flirted with me a bit, and I stupidly fell for his charms,” Violet said, biting her lip. Iris and Marigold already knew the particulars, having been there, and Violet was loath to revisit her stupidity. But she wouldn’t lie.

  “It wasn’t your fault, Vi,” Marigold said with a gentle hand on her arm. “Any of us would have fallen for him.”

  “Iris didn’t,” she said. “She saw through him the entire time.”

  “Yes, well, I have a sense for that kind of thing,” Iris said, but Violet shook her head.

  “And I clearly have none.”

  “That is certainly not the case,” Marigold countered, but Violet was well aware that her soft-hearted sister was simply trying to console her.

  “Marigold—”

  “Girls? Where are you?”

  “It’s Mother,” Daisy said. “We’d best be going in.”

  “Time to make dinner, I suppose,” Violet said with a sigh. She’d thought she had carved out a bit of time for herself, but with the arrival of Daisy and Marigold and their husbands, there would likely be much more work to do.

  “Actually, Mother said that tonight we would have the new maids see to dinner,” Iris said with a triumphant grin, and Violet looked at her incredulously.

  “Are you sure about that?”

  “I am,” she said. “Perhaps our parents are beginning to realize that the four of us will not be here to run the inn forever.”

  Violet bit her lip but said nothing as the sisters began for the house.

  “Here,” Daisy said, placing a hand on Violet’s arm. “You nearly forgot this.”

  She put the book into her hand, giving Violet’s fingers a little squeeze as she passed it over. “I’m sorry we interrupted you,” she added with a smile, and Violet shook her head.

  “I would much rather spend time with you,” she reassured her as they filed into the sitting room where their parents awaited.

  “Oh, how wonderful it is to have you all home together once more!” their mother, Alice, said once they had settled themselves on the rather worn grouping of furniture. The room would have otherwise been rather drab, but for the bouquets her mother had brought in from the garden and placed in vases on some of the mismatched end tables. “And I hope your husbands will join us soon. We have much to discuss with them, but first, we’d like to speak to the four of you.”

  The sisters nodded, looking at one in another with some question in their eyes. This was rather odd. Their parents were typically out of the ordinary, but this seemed more out of character than usual.

  “You know that we have relied on the four of you to do much of the work around here.”

  Iris snorted, and while Daisy stared at her with a warning glare, for once Violet agreed with Iris. Their parents would have been out of business years ago if it wasn’t for her and her sisters.

  “Yes, Father,” Marigold said, always the one attempting peace.

  “Well, with three of you married now — Iris, I know you are still here, but you will be leaving eventually — we’ve had to think of what we might do with the inn. We would like to stay here for a while at least but… it may prove difficult, financially. Which is why our solution is so perfect.”

  “You are going to sell the inn?” Violet cried, then brought a hand to her mouth to stem any further protest. Why should it bother her in the least if that was the choice they made? It wasn’t as though she particularly enjoyed any of the tasks she undertook here. It was interesting that the thought should bring her melancholy instead of joy. She supposed it was because the inn was home. It was where she had grown up and was all she knew. If they didn’t have the inn — if she didn’t have the inn — then what did she have? What would she do with her life?

  “I’m not sure if sell is the right word,” her mother began, but then their father chimed in and got right to the point, as he always did.

  “While we have certainly been blessed by the four of you, we also realize that we cannot gift the inn to any of our daughters,” he said, though Violet would have countered that point. Why couldn’t they? “Having no son, I was never sure what our plan would be. But as you know, my good friend George Anderson’s sons have always felt like my own.”

  Violet wasn’t entirely sure of that either. She had met them a few times throughout her life, but the Anderson family lived quite a distance away in Leicester, which wasn’t exactly conducive to much time spent together.

  “His eldest is going to follow in his footsteps running George’s inn, but his second son is also interested in staying involved in the business. George wrote to me with a proposal.”

  He chuckled, and Violet shared looks with her sisters, as they were not entirely sure what was humorous about the situation.

  “Linus is not only looking for an inn of his own, but he is also looking for a bride.”

  Oh, dear. Now her father’s chuckle made a little more sense.

  “I would be happy to have him take over our Wild Rose Inn, but I would also like to keep the inn within the family. There seems to be quite an easy solution to all of this. Violet,” he looked over at her. “I wouldn’t agree to this without your acceptance, but this may be perfect. You could stay in Southwold, marry Linus, and you would never have to leave the inn you love so much. What do you say?”

  All eyes turned to Violet, who sat on the edge of the ugly floral-printed sofa, stunned at her father’s request. Why he thought she so loved the inn, she had no idea, and what did it say that he didn’t think her capable of finding a husband on her own? It wasn’t as though she had been searching long. She had only recently come of the age when it would be prudent to begin considering marriage. Why, Daisy had been five years older than Violet’s current age when she finally married.

  “I, ah… I’m not entirely sure,” she said slowly, and of course, Iris had something to say about the situation even if Daisy did not.

  “Oh, Father, you cannot ask Violet to do such a thing. Why, we haven’t even seen Linus for at least ten years. He was terrible as a child. He could be a beast for all we know! How do you know Violet even wants to stay here? You know she has always wanted to see the world beyond Southwold. And besides all of that, this is ridiculous. You are simply giving away the inn?”

  Their father colored and looked down.

  “Well…” he muttered. “As it happens, I do owe George some money, so he suggested this was one way to forgive all of that.”

  “You borrowed money from him? And now you’re going to sell off Violet in return?” Iris asked, her cheeks turning ashen, reflecting all that Violet was currently feeling inside.

  “I was not asking what you thought of this, Iris,” her father said with more ire than he usually portrayed, and they all simply stared at him in surprise.

  Violet took a breath.

  “Iris does have a point, Father,” she said. “Though I now understand why you have asked this of me. Perhaps… perhaps I could spend some time with Linus and determine then if I would be willing to marry him?”

  She was well aware that she might never find a husband otherwise. Would it be better to be married to a man she hardly knew, than to never marry at all?

  That remained to be seen.

  2

  Owen Ridlington watched the four women file into the house from the garden. It was interesting how they could all be similar yet also quite unique individuals. He had been aware of this family for some time — since the Crown had first been looking for a place such as this, where soldiers and the like could convalesce or hide as the case may be. The owner, Elias Tavners, had been more than accepting of the idea, a former soldier himself and one who clearly longed for days gone by.

  They had never expected that the inn would be compromised.

  August Williams, the Earl of Westwood, had inadvertently changed that.

  “Lovely women, are they not?”

  Speak of the devil. Owen had sensed the man approaching behind him but had hoped if h
e ignored him, he would leave him be for the moment. Lord Westwood wasn’t a bad sort. He was good company, could tell quite a tale, and was welcoming of all. He was just somewhat… inept.

  “They seem to be,” he agreed, and Lord Westwood chuckled.

  “I have no issue with you saying so of my wife, if that is what you are concerned about,” he said, but Owen shook his head at the mention of Iris.

  “Not at all,” he said. “I have a job to do here, and no time to be watching the women pass by.”

  “Your job — to watch over me.”

  “Which has now extended to all who are here at the inn,” Owen added. “Those who followed you may have told others of your whereabouts. The inn could be in jeopardy now.”

  Lord Westwood had been a spy within the French courts. He had not ascertained much, but it seemed someone had discovered his identity. He was pulled out of France to this inn in Southwold but nonetheless, he was found. There were currently British operatives who were attempting to determine if the secret was safe or not, and Owen could hardly wait for the day they could both take their leave. It wasn’t that he didn’t like Southwold or The Wild Rose Inn. He was simply bored.

  “I know what you are thinking,” Westwood said, and Owen looked over at him, hoping the man did not. “That if I had been a better spy, you wouldn’t be here right now.”

  “That’s not it at all,” Owen countered, though it most certainly was. “I simply am looking forward to returning home when the time comes, that is all.”