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

“Your life would have been perfect if you hadn’t been so headstrong.”

“You know nothing about my life, Mother.”

“I daresay I know far more than you suspect.” Mother stood. “Has your husband finally put his foot down and demanded you return home and pick up your responsibilities as his wife?”

Violet rose to her feet. “My husband does not put his foot down nor would I allow him to do so.”

“That might be one of the problems.” Mother sniffed.

“You simply will not accept that you forfeited the right to ask me anything when you forced me into marriage.”

“Nonetheless, I am asking if you and your husband—”

“Why do you care? What possible difference does it make to you?”

“People talk, Violet, and they’ve been talking about you for nearly six years. It’s a source of constant humiliation for the entire family. Why, we’re lucky your scandalous life hasn’t affected Caroline’s impending engagement!”

“Well, he is only a younger son, Mother.”

“If you and your husband would just come to your senses and—” Mother gasped. “Dear Lord, you’re here to ask for a divorce, aren’t you?”

“That is no concern of yours.”

Mother sucked in a sharp breath. “There has never been a divorce in this family. The scandal will ruin us all. I insist—”

“For God’s sakes, Mother,” Violet snapped, “that’s quite enough. I am not asking for a divorce and yes, I am back to stay.” She drew a deep breath. Mother was an expert at the art of gossip and might well be useful at dissipating any untoward rumors about Violet and James’s apparent reconciliation. “After all these years apart, James and I have at last acknowledged we share the kind of mad, passionate love every woman dreams of! There now, are you happy?”

“Not at all because that’s utter nonsense and I don’t believe you for a moment.” Mother huffed. “One doesn’t stay away for years then wake up one morning to discover true love was there all along.”

“Actually, Mother...” Violet raised her chin. “One does.”

“My dear, darling wife.” As if on cue, James strode into the room, pulled her into his arms and gazed deeply into her eyes. “It’s been but a few hours and yet it seems like an eternity since I left your side.”

“Does it?” What on earth was he doing? Violet gazed up into his blue eyes, dark and endless and...amused?

“When we’re apart, I count the minutes until we’re together again.” He lowered his head to hers as if he intended to kiss her.

Violet’s breath caught.

Mother cleared her throat.

“Oh, I am sorry. I had no idea anyone else was here.” He released Violet, but slid one arm around her waist in a blatant display of affection. Blatant displays of affection were every bit as bad in Mother’s view as wives not being proper .

“James, you remember my mother.”

“Yes of course.” His arm tightened around her in a manner that could only be called possessive. It was oddly satisfying.

“Lord Ellsworth.” Mother eyed him suspiciously. “I should take my leave.”

“Delightful to see you again.” He nodded toward the door. “Andrews will see you out.”

“Violet, I expect your attendance at your sister’s ball.”

“Good day, Mother.”

“Good day, Lady Cranton,” James said and nuzzled the side of Violet’s neck as if Mother wasn’t there. A shiver ran down her spine. She really should protest but how would that look?

“Dear Lord,” Mother muttered and marched toward the door.

Violet steeled herself against the melting sensation of James’s lips against that surprisingly sensitive spot where her neck met her shoulder and waited until the parlor door closed behind her mother. Even then it was far harder to get the words out than one would expect. She drew a deep breath. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“I’M CONVINCING YOUR mother as to our reconciliation.” James kissed that delicious juncture of neck and shoulder. Her scent—an arousing mix of jasmine and spice—wrapped around him and it was all he could do not to pull her tighter against him. “As she is one of the most notorious gossips in London, it seemed an excellent idea.”

“Well, she’s gone now.” Violet pushed out of his arms. “You can stop that.”

He grinned. “I rather enjoyed it.”

“You would.”

Given the charming flush on her cheeks and the look in her eyes, so did she, although she’d never admit it. Still, it was interesting. His grin widened.

“Nonetheless, it was entirely inappropriate. This is a farce, James. Nothing more. You do need to remember that.” Her voice was firm even if there was the tiniest breathless quality to it. That too was interesting.

“Did you say that just to annoy your mother?”

“Probably.” Her brows drew together in confusion. “Say what?”

“That you and I had reconciled. That after all these years we share a mad, passionate love.”

“Surely I didn’t say anything of the sort.” A blush washed up her face. Oh, he liked that. “Did I?”

“Your words exactly.”

“One says all sort of things when one fails to give due consideration to one’s words.” She blew a long breath. “Yes, I suppose I did say some of it to annoy her. But really, what one says in the heat of—”

“Passion?”

“ Annoyance cannot be taken as irrefutable.” She cast him a questioning look. “So you remember my mother?”

“She continues to haunt my dreams.” He shivered. James would never forget how adamant Lady Cranton had been that they marry. How angry she’d been at him—justifiably—but how angry she’d been at Violet, as well. It wasn’t at all fair. As if any of this had been Violet’s fault.

“There is nothing my mother finds more scandalous or improper than mad, passionate love.”

“Actually, I was wondering about the rest of it.” He adopted a casual tone. “About staying in London. With your husband.” He held his breath. “Did you say that part to annoy her, as well?”

“No. I had already come to that decision.” She squared her shoulders. “I like my life, James. Three years seems a small enough price to pay for my independence and my freedom.”

“So you’ll do it for the money?” he said slowly. Relief mixed with a tinge of disappointment. Surely he couldn’t expect her to do it for any other reason. Still...it had been a long night and he’d done a great deal of thinking. All about her. Or rather, about them. Although he’d never not thought about her in one way or another through the years.

In the beginning, he’d gone on with his life as if he’d never married at all. In truth, his drinking, carousing and meaningless encounters with women had increased after Violet left. James blamed it on guilt. It was easy to forget what a cad be was, how he had ruined her life, if he was inebriated or had an anonymous woman in his bed. After he passed the second anniversary of his marriage, the appeal of raucous behavior, random women and drunken stupors began to fade. It was around that time too that Uncle Richard had been struck by a violent but blessedly brief illness and James had begun learning what was required to follow in his uncle’s footsteps. Upon later reflection, he acknowledged that was the true beginning of adulthood.

Violet raised a shoulder in a casual shrug as if money was as good a reason as any.

His brow rose. “You needn’t act as if you were doing me a great favor.”

“Oh, but I am doing you a great favor.”

“You have as much to lose as I do.”

She met his gaze directly. “No, I don’t.”

“Oh?”