“Might as well get it over with,” Greys said when he’d finally caught his breath. “No need to drive Posy tonight. I’ll take her,” he addressed his butler.
Which, Violet realized, meant she could spend a rare evening at home alone.
Violet bent over the tea tray at the exact moment Mr. Cockfield reached down to uncover one of the serving plates. “Terribly sorry,” she apologized for colliding with his arm. “Forgive me.” And then, heaven help her, she nearly apologized for apologizing.
“My fault.” He lifted the lid off the tray, and the sweet aroma of sugary confections mingled with his musky scent. “Cook just removed these from the oven.”
Violet was doing all she could to keep her wits about her.
“Thank you, Mr. Cockfield.” Good lord, she sounded breathless. She was grateful for Posy’s argument for once in that no one noticed her lack of composure.
“But of course.” Mr. Cockfield’s breath warmed the side of her face. “A person needs to splurge now and then; would you not agree?”
Violet turned to meet his mesmerizingly navy-colored eyes, and her knees nearly gave out beneath her.
Because she was almost positive that he wasn’t talking about pastries.
Tea with the Butler
Left to her own devices, rather than imposing on the servants to serve her in the dining room, Violet ordered a small meal sent up to her chamber. At home, in the small village near Blossom Court, she did her best to keep busy, visiting neighbors and even heading up the Ladies’ Charity Guild. But even so, she spent most evenings at home with her aunt and Posy.
Violet wasn’t at all accustomed to the schedule they’d maintained since arriving in London: staying out late every night, ensuring Posy was introduced to the right people and then making conversation. Never one to sleep in, the late hours were catching up with her.
And providing that she’d not get many evenings like this in the weeks to come, Violet intended to take full advantage of the quiet solitude.
After changing into her night rail and a modest dressing gown, Violet enjoyed a meal of cold meats and cheese while sitting by the empty hearth reading an adventure book by Holden Hampden, a new author she’d recently discovered, suggested to her by Lady Chaswick.
When the words began to blur, Violet removed her spectacles and rubbed her eyes. The tapers she’d lit were nearly burned down to the nub. She stretched and set the book aside just as sounds of male voices rose from the mews. Was that Greystone and Posy returning?
She padded to the window and barely made out the figure of a man speaking to one of the stable workers and then turning toward the servant entrance.
Not Greystone, or Posy, or even her Aunt Iris, who must have gotten caught up in a rousing game of piquet.
The gentleman, whose arm was in a sling, was Mr. Cockfield. But there was something different about him tonight. He didn’t appear bosky, but his shoulders were slumped, and he looked… sad. Had something happened?
She lifted the branch of tapers off the table and hurried out her door, through the corridor, and down the stairs.
“Mr. Cockfield?” She held out the light to see him better. “Are you hurt? Is everything all right?” He’d opened the door to his small office and chamber, but at the sound of her voice, turned and leaned against the wall.
He stared up at where she stood, four steps from the landing.
“Mr. Cockfield?”
“You look like an angel,” he murmured.
“Are you…?” Violet descended two more steps. “Foxed?”
He answered with a derisive chuckle. “Unfortunately, no, Miss Faraday, I’m not.”
And yet, this wasn’t the man she’d come to know. Mr. Cockfield wasn’t a person to show signs of defeat. “I thought you were running errands. Did your business not pan out?”
“My brother. I was with my brother.” He rubbed a hand down his face. “He’s on leave. We haven’t talked much since he’s returned, but hearing some of the stories… the thought of him going back…” For once, Mr. Cockfield’s eyes weren’t all-knowing. They looked bluer than usual—they looked…sad. “I can’t protect him while he’s gone.” He shook his head and grimaced. “Even worse, the woman he’s fallen in love with wants someone else. I hate to think of him returning to the front feeling dejected. I shared a few drinks, but I… stopped. I tend to do stupid things when I drink.” He frowned and then inhaled. “I’ll be quite myself again in the morning. Did you need something?”
For some reason, the fact that this man had a brother—one he worried about—suddenly added a humanness that she hadn’t considered. Worrying was something with which she was all too familiar.
“No.” Violet came down off the steps. She hated to leave him alone like this. “Yes. I mean. Tea would be lovely.”
“Of course.” He straightened.
