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

Through the years Violet did wonder what might have happened if she had refused to marry him. If she had stood up for herself.

She certainly did the morning after their wedding night when she learned he intended for their marriage to be little more than a pretense. When her heart had shattered. Violet had truly thought, up until that moment, there was the possibility they might make the best of this. They had been friends of a sort. If she had, in the back of her mind, wanted more, well, that was a silly thought. But she absolutely would not stay with a man who didn’t want her.

A week later, Violet engaged a companion—Mrs. Cleo Ryland, a delightful widow only a few years older than Violet—packed her bags and headed to Paris. James had provided her with the resources she needed to see everything she had ever read about, everything she’d ever dreamed of seeing. If he did not intend to be her husband, she intended to take full advantage of his generosity.

She had earned it.

“IT’S BEEN A long time since we danced together,” James said mildly.

He had danced with Violet any number of times before their marriage as he couldn’t dance exclusively with Marie. There were rules about that sort of thing. Violet and other friends and acquaintances were always with James and Marie and the couple was quite properly never alone. Marie wanted a dashing, handsome husband with a respectable title and a tidy fortune to provide her an unsullied position in society. She was not about to let so much as a hint of impropriety jeopardize that. In Marie’s eyes, James was a perfect fit.

“It’s been a long time since we’ve spoken.” Violet summoned a nondescript smile.

“Pride is a cruel mistress, Violet.”

“One of many mistresses, no doubt,” she said lightly. Regardless of how rarely she was in London, gossip about his numerous liaisons inevitably reached her, thanks to her mother and a handful of well-meaning friends. She’d ignored them for the most part. He had his life and she had hers.

“Regardless of what you might think of me, I meant that with all due sincerity.” He paused. “I am trying to admit to my past mistakes.”

“And then what?”

“Then atone for them.” He met her gaze directly.

She drew her brows together. “I’m not quite sure what you’re trying to say, James, but I am certain the dance floor in the middle of Lady Brockwell’s annual ball is not the best place to do it.”

“On the contrary, my dear.” He grinned and for a moment she saw the man she’d married. “We would make Lady Brockwell’s ball the talk of London.”

“Oh, I’d rather not. I’ve never particularly liked her.”

“Are you staying at Ellsworth House?” he asked.

“I always do.” She paused. “You had warning, I sent a telegram from Lisbon.” Whenever she headed toward London she sent a telegram to Andrews, James’s butler, to give the household notice as to her impending arrival. And give James the time he needed to escape.

“Thoughtful of you as always.” He cast her his most charming smile. “Now, may I escort you home?”

“I’m not sure I am ready to leave.”

“Forgive me if it sounded like a question. It wasn’t.”

She raised a brow. “Is that an order, then?”

He hesitated then grimaced. “Of course not. Sorry, I’ve never dealt with a wife before.”

“Not one of your own, you mean.”

His eyes narrowed slightly, as if she had pushed him too far. Good.

“And I’ve never dealt with a husband. But one dance and then we’re off?” She shook her head. “Won’t that set them all to talking? Why are Lord and Lady Ellsworth leaving so early? What do you think they’re up to? That sort of thing.”

“Probably, but only until the next interesting tidbit comes along. Should be no more than a day or two.”

It really was pointless to argue with him. And they did have things to talk about that were best discussed in private. She wasn’t sure she was prepared to do so tonight, however.

The music ended and he tucked her hand in the crook of his arm and steered her in a relaxed manner toward the door, stopping here and there to exchange a word with acquaintances. As if there was nothing at all out of the ordinary for Lord and Lady Ellsworth to be in the same room together let alone departing as a couple.

Once they had settled in the carriage, Violet let out a resigned sigh. “You do realize my mother will hear of this and will probably be calling on us by morning.”

“My apologies.”

She chose her words carefully. “I’m not sure I would have attended the ball if I had known you were going to be there.”

“Whereas I knew you were going to be there and thought it better to greet you in public.”

“Oh?”

“I wasn’t sure you’d come,” he said abruptly. “To London, I mean.”

“I am here because of Uncle Richard, of course,” she said coolly, ignoring the catch in her throat. “I was so saddened to hear of his passing. I wish I had come to see him again.”

Uncle Richard had never thought it necessary to vacate the premises upon her visits home. He and Violet had spent long hours together during her stays, playing cards or chess, attending plays or lectures, and discussing whatever happened to pass through their minds. He’d been ill for some time but on her last visit a year ago, she’d thought he had improved. He was the only person who had ever accepted her for who she was rather than who she used to be or who she should be. Sorrow stabbed her at the thought of never seeing him again.

“You didn’t come when he died two months ago.”

“It seemed pointless.”

“I assume you received notice from his solicitor about tomorrow’s meeting?”

She nodded. The letter had insisted she return to London as soon as possible, as per Uncle Richard’s instructions. It was followed by a telegram confirming her attendance at tomorrow’s meeting. “Do you know what it’s regarding?”

“Uncle Richard’s final wishes.” He shrugged. “Beyond that, I have no idea.”

“Then we shall both be surprised,” she said under her breath.

While it did strike her as an ordinary conversation, tension fairly bounced off the walls of the carriage. Idle chatter seemed absurd. There was so much of importance to say, issues that needed to be resolved. And yet here and now, she couldn’t bring herself to say anything. What did one say to a husband one hadn’t spoken to in nearly six years? Silence was far wiser at the moment. But it was past time. One of them had to be honest enough to do what needed to be done. It was more than likely to be her. Goodness, hadn’t she been working up her courage for years? Still, it might be better to hear what the solicitor had to say. Another day or two would make no real difference.

James helped her from the carriage and escorted her into the grand house near Grosvenor Square. Andrews greeted them, handed her wrap to a footman and promptly vanished, no doubt within calling distance should he be needed. The butler was the very soul of discretion. Regardless, Violet suspected he and any number of other servants were observing them from some unseen location.

“I usually have a glass of brandy in the library before bed,” James said in an offhand manner. “Would you care to join me?”

“I’m afraid I’ve had a very long day. I would prefer to retire for the night.” She smiled politely and turned toward the stairs. Coward , a voice whispered in the back of her head. A civilized brandy in the comfort of Uncle Richard’s library would be the perfect opportunity for calm, rational discussion. Regardless, she simply wasn’t ready. She’d assumed she wouldn’t see him until they met in the solicitor’s office. She never imagined she’d see him, dance with him, tonight.