Victoria Alexander - Lady Traveller's Guide To Happily Ever After

Her demeanor then was attributable to justifiable anger. Last night, it was obvious she was not the same girl he once knew. The difference in her manner was apparent in the set of her chin and the look in her eye. The way she carried herself said without words this was a woman confident of her own worth. This was a woman who would hold her ground. She had changed in other ways, as well. He didn’t remember her red hair being so glorious or her green eyes so captivating or her figure so enticing. There was somehow more to her now. As if she had once been a pencil drawing and was now a painting in oil. She was vibrant. Alive. Remarkable. And far lovelier than he remembered.

“Apparently you are not the only one without a choice,” she said sharply, her eyes flashing with annoyance. “If I do not accept my role in this little farce, I will have virtually nothing to live on. Isn’t that right, Mr. Davies?”

“Yes. Furthermore, there will be no more money for traveling—”

“Yes, yes, I understand that.” She rose to her feet. “Mrs. Higginbotham was right. There will be questions.” She pinned Marcus with a hard look. “Come prepared to answer them.” She nodded curtly and strode out of the office.

James stared after her.

“I thought you said she was timid?” The vaguest hint of awe sounded in Marcus voice.

“She’s changed.”

Marcus chuckled. “Apparently.” He paused. “You’re going to have to stay on her good side, you know, if you want to pull this off.”

“Yes, I know. She’s not overly fond of me.”

“From what you’ve told me, she has good reason for that.” Marcus sat down. “This will certainly require a great deal of effort on your part. It won’t be easy for you.”

“Your confidence in me is heartening.” James retook his seat.

Marcus pulled open a desk drawer and pulled out a bottle of fine Scottish whiskey and two glasses. He filled one and passed it to James.

“I shouldn’t. She’s probably waiting for me in the carriage.”

“Or she’s taken the carriage and left you to fend for yourself.” Marcus chuckled. “I wouldn’t put it past her.”

“Nor would I.” James sipped the whiskey. Nothing like good whiskey to put a thing in perspective. Although perhaps not today. “What am I going to do?”

“There’s nothing you can do but abide by the terms of the will. I assure you, I have studied it thoroughly. As I said, my father and his brothers are very good.” Marcus considered his friend for a moment. “She’s quite lovely and you’ve always had an inexplicable charm for women. And she is your wife after all. Is there any possibility that you and she—”

“No. Maybe.” James shook his head. “I don’t know. It’s been a long time.” Even so, the memory of their wedding night—memories of Violet—had always dwelled in the back of his mind. No doubt the reason why he hadn’t been with another woman in a very long time. “Uncle Richard thought Violet and I were destined for one another. That in my avoiding marriage to the wrong woman I had somehow ended up with the right woman. This is his way of forcing us together.”

“He was nothing if not determined.” Marcus paused. “May I ask you something?”

“Why not?” James settled back in his chair.

“If I recall correctly, quite some time ago, in an inebriated state of maudlin self-pity, you told me Lady Ellsworth was the biggest regret of your life.”

“And?”

“And you said that on more than one occasion.”

“You must admit, it’s a rather significant regret.” He shrugged. “I ruined her life.”

“Yes, you’ve said that, as well.” Marcus eyed him thoughtfully. “You’ve also said you were young, stupid and about to be engaged to the wrong woman.”

“Hence the regret.”

“Understandable.” Marcus nodded. “But among all those things you’ve said about your ill-fated marriage, there’s one thing you’ve never said.”

“And what is that?”

Marcus met his gaze. “You’ve never once said it was a mistake.”

JAMES INSTRUCTED HIS driver, then climbed into the carriage. “I didn’t think you’d wait for me.”

“That would have been rude.” Violet smiled pleasantly. “I am never rude.”

“I wouldn’t think you were,” he said slowly.

“We have a decision to make.”

“I don’t see that we have a choice.”

“Of course we do,” she said. “There are always choices, some better than others. From what Uncle Richard has said about you in the last few years, you seem to have a talent for business. Should either of us decide not to abide by the terms of the will, you would have to seek employment.”

He had no doubt he could find employment of a sort. But if he’d learned nothing else about the world of business he had learned who you were was every bit as important as your skills or intelligence. A disinherited earl would not be especially sought after.

“I would indeed.” He shifted in his seat. It wasn’t just the fortune—although its loss would be painful—but losing the properties that had been in his family for generations twisted his soul. The country estate where his father had taught him to ride and to swim, as had his father before him. The London house Uncle Richard had made James’s haven. The places James had always called home. “My life would certainly change. As would yours.”

She hesitated. “Yes, of course.”

He had the oddest feeling there was something she didn’t wish to say.

“Although, as your husband, it would be my responsibility to provide your support.”

“You would have to find good employment.” She eyed him thoughtfully. “You’ve been very generous through the years.”

He shrugged off her comment. Generosity apparently went hand in hand with guilt.

“Was that at Uncle Richard’s urging?”

Did she think so little of him? He couldn’t blame her if she did but it was annoying nonetheless. “Would it matter if it was?”

“Perhaps not.” She paused. “But it is something I have always wondered.”

“You could have asked my uncle.”

“I’m not sure he would have told me,” she said with a sigh. “He was very fond of you and rather proud of the man you’ve become.”

Good to know. “No, your financial support had nothing to do with Uncle Richard.”

“I see.” For a long moment she was silent. “You’re asking for three more years of my life. It’s a very long time.”

“Perhaps it is better to think of it as two years, eleven months, one week and three days after all.”

“Not really.” She pinned him with a hard look. “You do realize the significance of two years, eleven months, one week and three days, don’t you?”

He scoffed. “Of course I do.” What the hell was she talking about?

“Oh?” She studied him closely. “Can you tell me why Uncle Richard stipulated two years, eleven months, one week and three days?”

“Of course I can.” At once the answer struck him and he wondered if Uncle Richard was looking after him from above. He leaned forward and met her gaze firmly. “Five years, ten months, two weeks and six days is—as of today—how long we’ve been married. Two years, eleven months, one week and three days is exactly half that. The stipulation was that the length of time be based on the date of today’s meeting.” He shrugged. “If you had returned to London sooner, the requirement would have been shorter.”

“Very good, James.” She nodded coolly. “Given your reaction in Mr. Davies’s office, one might have thought you didn’t realize that.”