He dipped his chin.
“Will you tell me your given name?”
He didn’t answer right away, and she half wondered if he wasn’t going to give it up. Was he working for her cousin under an alias, having been a dangerous criminal in a former life? Was it possible that he was running from the law?
Because, aside from the anecdotes he’d shared with her about growing up with his siblings, she knew very few details about his past.
He reached up and trailed his fingers along the side of her face. “Simon. You can call me Simon.” He almost looked vulnerable at the admission.
I am going to have an affair with him. The thought jumped into her mind unbidden. And yet she didn’t contradict it. It was as though she’d been falling headlong into it from the moment he’d sent her that smirk.
She couldn’t have the perfect future with a husband and family, but she could have… this.
Fate had come along to present her with this unexpected opportunity. A chance to… reclaim her womanhood—something she’d lost when Christopher left.
Or had she lost it before that? Had she lost it the night she’d lain with him?
Mr. Cockfield—Simon—dipped his head to kiss her again. And she welcomed it with her entire being.
Now that she’d made her decision, all that was left were the details. When? She didn’t want to wait for long. Not that she thought she’d change her mind, but because she wanted to make the most of this before the end of the Season.
Where?
She slid her hands up and over his jacket, his collar, until her fingertips landed on his jaw. Once, a very long time ago, she’d believed herself in love.
She’d believed that she and Christopher would spend their lives together. Most of her wedding had been planned.
With Simon, she was as equally certain that there was no future for them.
And because of this, she would hold nothing back.
A sound beyond his office intruded. Either her aunt or Posy was descending and ready to depart.
He stilled and then broke the kiss with a soft sigh. “You haven’t failed to prepare her,” he insisted. “But Lady Posy, she…” He cradled Violet’s cheek. “You must prepare yourself for the possibility of what she’s been telling you all along.”
“My niece seems to be constantly telling me things. What do you mean?” Violet squirmed in his arms, not nearly as comfortable with the tone in his voice.
“That she will not marry. But you mustn’t think you’ve failed to prepare her. There are some matters that are simply beyond anyone’s control.”
“What do you mean? Has she done something?” Visions of all the trouble Posy might have gotten herself into came to mind. “Has she—?”
“Her secret isn’t mine to tell,” Simon answered. By now, Aunt Iris’s voice sounded clearly behind the door, followed by Posy’s. But it seemed he wasn’t prepared to release her, however, and held Violet’s hand to his breast. “She’ll tell you when she’s ready. But you mustn’t keep pressing her to marry. Trust me?”
But Posy must marry. If she didn’t, she’d end up just like Violet—a bitter, cynical spinster, contemplating an affair of a most scandalous nature.
But would she, really? And why did the thought of Posy failing to marry send Violet into such a panic?
“I have to go,” Violet said, quite unnecessarily. He’d heard the voices as clearly as she had. “But… I would like… a word with you after I’ve returned, alone, if you don’t mind.”
His brows raised. “Of course. Now, go discover all the latest gossip.”
“Is that what you think we do, at our ‘at-homes?’”
“I know it is.”
Violet winced. “Would you mind having a look to make sure no one sees me?”
He stared at her, taking the slightest hesitation, and then peered out the door. “Your secret is safe. They’re in the drawing room.”
