The Lady's Fate (The Reluctant Grooms Volume II)

by Anne Gallagher

  “Oh, Violet. I am sorry you are not finding the gaiety I had hoped.”

  Violet took up her friend’s hand. “Forgive me, Lady Penny. I did not mean to sound like a guttersnipe. The evening is very gay. I am overwhelmed by the attention, that is all.” She had known a long time ago, she wouldn’t like this life and even though she had tried to overcome it, her first instincts had been correct. This was not what she wanted.

  “Come then, let me take you to my aunt. She will protect you from unwanted suitors.”

  On the way to the dowager corner, several people stopped the young duchess and gave her compliments on the success of her first ball. Violet stood waiting, and watched as they fawned and flattered her friend. She doubted any of them were sincere. As one talk became overlong, Violet noticed an elegant lady with red hair enter the ballroom on the arm of an older gentleman. Her long patrician nose looked down on those who spoke with her until she saw Haverlane. The pinched look vanished and in its place, a calculated smile. Violet watched as Haverlane headed toward who was undoubtedly Lady Georgiana Baxter.

  Of course, how could she have forgotten Lady Baxter? Violet wondered if she could plead a headache and go home. There was no reason to stay now.

  Wanting to hide, Violet walked to the chairs in the back of the room reserved for the oldest of the matrons. Slipping unobtrusively into one behind several of the women, she chanced to overhear a conversation surely not meant for her ears.

  “Who is their father?” a lady dressed in plum asked.

  “He was Master of the Gardens before he was lost at sea. The Earl of Duncan,” said a woman wearing a turquoise turban.

  “Well, the mother is certainly a proud one. Dare I say I do not think I remember seeing her before,” this remark from a lady holding a lorgnette to her eyes.

  “Do you not remember who she is, Lavinia?” Turban Lady asked. “Rose Sherridan, old Corey’s granddaughter. Twas a great scandal when she left her family to marry Duncan. She thought he had money. The old Earl disinherited her, and they barely had two shillings to rub together. When Duncan never returned from his ill-fated trip, poor Queen Charlotte took them up in her household. Not a penny to their name and five daughters to raise. Depend upon it I have not seen her in almost twenty years. I do not know how she expects to get them married off without a decent dowry.”

  “Well, obviously someone has become their benefactor,” said Lorgnette Lady with a tone that suggested impropriety. “Look at the gown the blonde is wearing. For someone without a penny, that dress cost a small fortune.”

  Violet stood up, unable to listen any longer. All three women turned and stared at her. Before she could run away, Lady Olivia grabbed her hand.

  “Yes, Eugenia,” the dowager said to the woman with the lorgnette. “My niece has been most kind to both of Duncan’s girls. You should do well to look to your own granddaughter. Surely, you could have found a better modiste. The gown she wears looks like it was made from flour sacks.”

  Lady Olivia led Violet away from the gossipmongers. “Do not pay any attention to those crones. They married their money and now they have it, have forgotten what it is like to be without.”

  “Thank you, Your Grace,” Violet said. She swallowed the lump in her throat. “You are very kind.”

  “No, I’m not. I have power and know when to use it to my advantage. Those hags will never speak of you again unless it is with great compliments. Now, come along, I hear the musicians tuning a waltz. We need to ensure he sees you. You do not wish to make him look for you.” The old woman dragged Violet to the edge of the dance floor.

  “Who, Your Grace?” Violet hoped it was not Viscount Craddock again. His aggressiveness on the dance floor had almost done her in.

  “Here he comes.” Lady Olivia nodded to her left. “Now smile.”

  Violet pasted a non-committal smile on her face and turned. Haverlane walked toward them. Her heart nearly burst through her chest at the sight of him. His smile was genuine, seemed filled with great affection, and focused solely on her.

  “I believe this is our dance, Violet.” He held out his hand.

  She had forgotten all about their dance when she had seen Lady Baxter. Violet placed her fingers in his, grateful they were steady. She thought she might swoon.

  He bowed to Lady Olivia. “Your Grace, shall I enquire if your usual dance partner is available?” His voice held a playful note.

  “Haverlane, do not you dare.” She chuckled. “I shall take it upon myself.”

  “Come then, Violet. Let us leave Lady Olivia to her own devices, shall we?” He placed her hand on his arm and led her onto the dance floor. He bowed, she curtsied, and then he took her in his arms.

  The music began and Violet closed her eyes through the first turn. She breathed in his delicious scent and stifled a giddy giggle. Too much happiness bubbled inside her.

  “You are breathtaking tonight, Violet,” he said.

  She faltered in her step. His hand on her back pulled her closer.

  “I thank you, my lord.” Afraid he would see how much she still loved him, she dared not look him in the eye.

  “Are you enjoying yourself?”

  “I am now,” she said. In his arms, there was no other felicity in the world to compare.

  He smiled. “And you were not previously?”

  She looked at him then.

  “Pray, tell me what is wrong?” he asked. “Are you not finding your first ball to your liking?” He seemed genuine in his concern.

  “No, my lord,” she said. She could never be duplicitous with him.

  “Why ever not? You do not want for dance partners.”

  “As much as I enjoy it, my lord, I find it extremely taxing. My mother will not let me rest. I seem to forget the names of the gentlemen I partner, and some of the things they say I do not understand. As for the women, well, I should best leave that topic unsaid.” Violet sighed. She should not have burdened him with her unhappiness.

  Haverlane drew her closer still. Were it not for this dance, she would have no good memories of this night.

  “Has someone treated you cruelly?”

  “No, my lord.”

  “Is that all that vexes you so? I hate to see you looking so despondent.”

  “I overheard a conversation that was not meant for my hearing, that is all.”

  “I see. And what was the conversation?”

  She may as well tell him the truth. He was bound to hear it eventually.

  “Contemporaries of my mother dredged up the past and my lack of family connections. I had hoped they would forget, but my hopes were in vain. I’m sure it will only be a matter of time before the whole of Society knows our condition. Last year, Lilly escaped the scrutiny by taking up with Welbey so quickly. Unfortunately, my turn with His Highness has garnered all sorts of speculation on who I am. Regrettably, I have brought this on myself.”

  “Violet you must not think of yourself so ill. I have heard nothing but the highest praise for you.”

  “For my dancing or my gown. No one has bothered to ask my opinion. There is little depth in conversation, except for His Highness, and now you. I have seen nothing but fawning and false flattery.” Violet closed her eyes again wishing they were dancing far away from there. “I do not know how you can live like this.”

  “I do not live like this anymore. It has been some time since I danced this way.”

  Violet glanced up to find him smiling at her. Too late, she also saw Lady Baxter standing on the edge of the dance floor watching their every move.

  “No, my lord, I’m sure you have not.” Her words filled with sarcasm and bitterness and she could not help them.

  Haverlane released his hold just enough to look at her face. “Violet, I must say, you are not the girl I once knew.”

  “No, my lord. My eyes have opened to the world like Pandora’s Box. I see nothing but avarice, disdain, and selfishness.”

  “Surely, you must still believe there is hope.”


  “Not anymore. All my hope has vanished.”

  The music ended and Haverlane returned her to Lady Olivia’s side. He bowed over her hand, kissed it, and was gone.

  “You do not look as I imagined you would,” Lady Olivia said.

  “Lord Haverlane said the same thing,” Violet said. “If you would excuse me, Lady Olivia, I believe I need a quiet place to sit.” Violet left the dowager staring after her. Slipping past footmen carrying trays of champagne, she headed downstairs. Violet heard her mother call for her, and paid no heed. On the first floor, she enquired of Quiggins if she could have access to the terrace for a quiet moment.

  “I believe you would find the conservatory a more welcome respite than the terrace, my lady. There are others walking the gardens.”

  “You are most kind, Mr. Quiggins, thank you,” Violet said.

  Quiggins led her down a short hall and through a small room off the back of the mansion. He opened the door for her and handed her a candle. “I’m sure you will find this much more to your liking. Would you care for a refreshment?”

  “No, thank you Mr. Quiggins, I should only like a little peace and quiet.”

  Quiggins bowed and closed the door behind him.

  Violet walked slowly through the plants. Miniature roses bloomed and Violet breathed in their glorious scent. She trailed her hand over a basket of ferns. At the end of the room, she found a wicker-work chair and gratefully sank into it. She placed the candle on the small table. Violet wanted nothing, but to hide for the remainder of the evening. Her mother would be vexed with her disappearance and Violet didn’t care. Officially, she had reached her majority and her mother had no say in what Violet could or could not do any longer. If Violet wanted to flee the country, she could. A foolish thought, she decided. She didn’t have two shillings to her name.

  Dancing with Haverlane had only brought her misery. Being in his arms was nothing, if not Heaven, and she would never stop loving him. Only now, there was Lady Baxter and Violet knew she could never compete with her beauty, or her money. Tears slipped softly down her cheeks.

  How long she remained thus, she didn’t realize until she heard the door open. She wiped her face and stood. She prayed it only a servant seeing the candle.

  “Violet? Are you all right?”

  Haverlane! He could not see her like this, mooning over him like a milk-starved calf. Panicked, she extinguished the candle.

  “Violet, I know you are here. I spoke with Quiggins.”

  His footsteps came closer.

  “I am here, my lord. I only wished a respite from the festivities.” She tried to sound light-hearted.

  “Is that all?”

  “Yes of course, my lord.” She could never tell him what truly burdened her heart.

  He loomed over her in the darkness. “You left the ballroom so suddenly. I could not help wonder if I made you upset with our talk on the dance floor.”

  Violet’s heart began an unnatural rhythm. If someone found them in the darkness together, the scandal would devastate them both. How foolish she had been to distinguish the candle. She stepped to his right and found the small path to the door.

  “No, my lord. It was nothing you said.” She walked slowly, her hands in front of her in the semi-darkness, the only light from the candles in the ballroom upstairs shining through the windows in the glass ceiling. “As I explained, I am not used to all the scrutiny. Hearing those women speak of my parents in such a way brought up memories of my father I had not thought of in years. I did not realize how much I truly miss him.” She bumped into a large container and stumbled. Strong arms steadied her then turned her to face him.

  “I am sorry. It must be agony for you to not know what happened to him.”

  “I am sure he must be dead. There is no other explanation for his not returning.”

  She tried to escape his embrace, but he held her arms.

  “Violet, I came here for a specific reason as I could not have all eyes upon us upstairs. I want to give you your birthday present.”

  “My lord, there is no need. You did not have to go to the trouble.”

  “Oh, but I wanted to. Turn around.” He spun her back to him.

  His hands draped something light around her throat and then his hands were on the back of her neck. She put her fingers up to a small piece of jewelry hanging from a chain. “What is this?”

  He turned her to face him again. “You shall see it soon enough. If anyone should ask, I think it best to say it is a gift from Lady Penny. People would not understand our relationship.”

  “My lord, I do not understand our relationship.”

  “Let me show you, perhaps then, you will.”

  His hands framed her neck and she felt his lips upon hers. Lightning currents raced through her body. Every hair stood on end. His lips moved over hers and a roaring flame replaced the electricity. She placed her hands on his chest and felt his heart thumping through his waistcoat. His hand moved across her back and held her to him, warmth, and tenderness seeping into her soul. She wound her hands around his neck and pressed her body to his, wanting him to feel her own devotion.

  She thought dancing with him had brought her all the happiness she could feel. This kiss belied description of mortal words. Joy. Bliss. Ecstasy.

  He nuzzled her neck, her earlobe. “Violet, you have me undone,” he whispered.

  He brought his lips back to her mouth. She prayed he would never stop. His hand moved to the hollow of her throat, his fingers caressed her neck. She had never felt such glorious abandon, such wanton wickedness.

  “Oh, Violet I should never let you go.”

  His words prompted her to break away from him. “My lord, please. You must. Think of the consequences.”

  Haverlane took a step back and ran a hand through his hair. “Yes, the consequences.”

  Violet shook her skirts for want of something to do. “I should return to the ballroom. I am probably missed. I thank you for the kindness of your gift.” She turned and began to walk away.

  He took her arm and crushed her to him once again. His lips burned her cheek, her neck, and when he found her lips once more, she gave in. She kissed him with every ounce of feeling she possessed. She longed to whisper, I love you, but remained silent. She knew he would never return them.

  A noise scared her out of his embrace. “My lord, I must go. To be seen thus would ruin your reputation.”

  He laughed, a hollow sound ringing through the greenhouse. “It is not my reputation that worries me, Violet. But you are right. You must go. I shall see you upstairs.”

  She left him standing in the middle of the conservatory, a faint shadow in the hothouse. Following the short hall, she found a footman standing by a door. She asked for a withdrawing room. She must be a sight! The footman escorted her to one on the other side of the stairs.

  In the small room, Violet peered into the looking glass hanging on the wall. Haverlane’s gift was exquisite. A small cabochon amethyst lay in the center of a small gold circlet. It touched her immensely to realize he was the only person to remember her birthday with a gift. With the exception of Lady Penny and the gown she wore, not one member of her own family had thought of her.

  Her hair had thankfully, stayed in the coils Camelia had arranged, however she found a slight rash along her neck and cheeks. Haverlane’s whiskers, she deduced, or perhaps the turbot from dinner, she wasn’t sure. Violet splashed cold water on her face to minimize the slight burn. It didn’t help. What would she tell her mother? It was not imperceptible enough to be overlooked.

  Violet glanced down at her gown. Dirt lay along her hip, where she bumped the pot of flowers trying to flee Haverlane. Oh, no. Now what would her mother say? Brushing it off with a piece of damp flannel only made the matter worse. She needed to find an excuse, a plausible enough reason to explain why there was dirt on her dress. But there was none that would not lead to questions she could answer.

  She opened the door to the withdrawing room a
nd found Lady Baxter standing there with a glass of red wine in her hand. Before Violet could excuse herself, Lady Baxter threw the wine on Violet’s lovely new silk!

  “That should keep you out of his arms for the rest of the night,” Lady Baxter hissed. “I do not know what game you are playing, but I shall tell you now, you will not win. Haverlane is mine. Do not be so foolish to think you will tempt him with your virtue. It will not work. This is just a warning. Stay away from Haverlane or you will be sorry.” Lady Baxter turned and walked away.

  The vileness of the threat Lady Baxter imposed left Violet trembling. She looked down at her ruined gown, shocked at the malevolence of such an act. Tears sprang to her eyes. Violet knew she had no claims on Haverlane. They had shared nothing but a few kisses, which no one knew of, and one dance at one ball. There was no attachment on his part. She had nothing to offer in return.

  Yet his words rang in her ears. I should never let you go.

  Quiggins approached her. “Lady Violet, are you all right?”

  “It seems I have spilled my wine,” she said with a shaken smile. She wiped her tears. “I think there is nothing for it but to depart. Would you be kind enough to send a footman for my wrap and find a hackney to take me home?”

  “Of course.” He bowed and looked toward the stairs.

  “And please give Lady Penny my regrets. I should not like to take her away from her guests, nor disgrace her ballroom in my dirty state.”

  “Yes, mum, of course.” Quiggins left and Violet stepped back into the room and closed the door. She sat in the chair, half-bemoaning her state, half in ecstasy remembering Haverlane’s kiss.

  A few minutes later, Quiggins brought her wrap and escorted her to a waiting carriage. The horses were swift and she was home before the hall clock struck the hour of twelve. No one awaited her arrival and Violet reached her bedroom in silence. She peeled off her now ruined gown, climbed into her nightrail, and lay in the dark thinking of Haverlane.