Violet glanced toward her niece, who looked far too pleased with this turn of events, and then over at Greystone.
“If you are quite certain, Greys.” She waited for her cousin to change his mind. “Greys?”
“Even with only one good arm, Mr. Cockfield will suffice as a partner.”
Violet closed her eyes in resignation but opened them again in time to see Greystone’s butler execute a perfectly noble bow over Posy’s hand. While the other dancers assumed their positions, Violet lowered herself to the pianoforte, frowning. Of course, it wasn’t unheard of for a servant to step in under such circumstances. She’d looked to the manservants herself, but…
Mr. Cockfield was not just any servant. He was an overly familiar, impertinent, and arrogant one.
Violet shuffled through her papers, donned her spectacles for reading, and then set her fingers to the keys. She had to concentrate most of her attention on her playing but was able to peek over her glasses occasionally to watch the dancers. Miss Jones and Lord Chaswick seemed to be joking with one another, and Greystone, an expert dancer, moved like a dream with Miss Diana.
Violet’s gaze didn’t linger on those couples, however, as it was her duty to keep watch of Posy.
And unfortunately, as she watched Mr. Cockfield dance, she grudgingly conceded that Greys had been right. Because even with his right arm immobilized in a black sling, the dratted good-looking butler effortlessly steered Posy through the dance.
Violet might have found the slightest satisfaction if only he’d bumped into Chaswick or Greystone once or twice—or one of the potted plants at the edge of the dance floor.
If she were inclined to pettiness, that was—which she wasn’t.
She was, however, relieved to see nothing untoward in his manner with Posy—nothing that even hinted at anything inappropriate.
Violet glanced down at the keys to keep from embarrassing herself by missing some notes, annoyed for feeling even the slightest attraction to a servant. It wasn’t right. It wasn’t at all proper. Hearing her niece’s laughter, Violet glanced up again and pressed her lips together.
Posy had already been allowed to become far too caught up in this—whatever it was—with the butler, so much so that she seemed to have lost all interest in the eligible bachelors she met at any of the ton festivities they’d attended.
And seeing as Greys and her aunt had turned a blind eye to the situation, Violet was going to have to take matters into her own hands.
She would speak with Mr. Cockfield, appeal to his sense of honor. And if that didn’t work, she would simply insist he keep his distance from her niece.
She might threaten to have him sacked if he did otherwise.
Violet pounded out the ending notes of the waltz with more enthusiasm than was necessary. And after playing the final note, her skin pricked with awareness. She didn’t need to look up to know that he was watching her; it was as though he could read her mind.
Heat flushed her cheeks—from her exertions playing, of course—and despite her efforts, she failed to keep herself from glancing up.
She had not been mistaken.
Simon released Lady Posy and then escorted Greystone’s guests out of the ballroom to the front foyer, where he then waited, along with Chaswick and Greys, while Lady Posy confirmed plans to go shopping with the baron’s sisters later that week.
But Simon’s thoughts were elsewhere as he contemplated the expression he thought he’d seen on Miss Faraday’s face while she’d played,
And after closing the door behind them, rather than return to his small office where he had steward’s reports to go over, Simon made his way back to the ballroom.
When he arrived at the open door, he didn’t enter immediately. Instead, he looked on as Violet Faraday fussed with her belongings at the pianoforte.
If not for that blasted bet, he would put the poor woman out of her misery. She was quite convinced that he was dallying with her charge and, believing such, her disapproval was not misplaced. No servant of his would ever be allowed such liberties—no self-respecting servant would dare to take them.
Besides that, both of his sisters knew better than to fraternize thusly with any of the members of his staff. If he ever observed so much as the suggestion of impropriety, he’d put an end to it immediately.
Mainly because such a relationship was not at all fair to the subordinate. Friendship, common courtesy, and respect were one thing; anything beyond that became problematic.
Unfortunately, as matters stood, Miss Faraday would have to remain in the dark as to his true identity.
Because not only did he have his own secret to keep, he’d promised Posy he would keep hers as well.
Miss Faraday must think they’d all gone mad.
Simon stepped inside, and as the door closed behind him, she nearly dropped her stack of papers. Then, fumbling nervously, she tucked them against her bosom and met his stare.
