But since Violet had arrived, Simon had noticed a very subtle transformation in her. Something in her eyes had changed. Almost as though she’d begun to see the world in a different light—and then questioned her place in it.
It was something he was not unfamiliar with—acting as a servant—seeing his world from an entirely different perspective.
At first, it had been a novelty, living without the trappings of his title, viewing his world without being a part of it. And now, spending time with a woman, with Violet, merely because he enjoyed her company, and she enjoyed his. It was beyond irresistible.
She had no intention of marrying but wished to push the boundaries she’d lived by all her life.
Their affair would be kept secret. If we go ahead with it.
Secrecy suited him just fine. If she’d been looking for anything else, she most certainly wouldn’t have looked for it with him—whom she believed to be a butler.
And that was the beauty of it.
Better Simon than anyone else. She would be safe. An affair with him could never be used against her or her family members. He rubbed the place on his finger where he normally wore the ring his father left him. She knew him, he’d realized that when she had read his palm.
She liked the idea of magic, but not for herself.
And she liked the idea of marriage, but not for herself.
It was quite possible that if he wasn’t handy, she might become involved with some other man, some man who mightn’t have as altruistic of motives as he did.
If he could call them that.
He would also protect Lady Posy—another woman who required protection from herself.
Sounds of footsteps filtered into Simon’s office, followed by two sharp knocks—it was Bradley, the first footman. “Mr. Bugsy and Finch are in the mews to see you, sir,” the uniformed servant informed him.
“Thank you, Bradley.” Simon shook off his musings.
“I’ll watch the door, Mr. Cockfield, sir.”
Simon nodded and strode to where two of his best men awaited him with their daily reports.
If there was anything to discover regarding Captain Christopher Thompson’s suspicious disappearance, Bugsy and Finch were the men who would find it.
Not a Myth
Violet set her knitting aside and crossed to where her aunt dozed in her favorite chair. With no festivities scheduled that evening, Posy had retired to her chamber right after dinner, and Greystone had disappeared upstairs. No doubt doing his mathematics and stargazing atop the house in his observatory.
“Aunt, you ought to go upstairs.” Violet touched her aunt’s arm.
Aunt Iris jerked but quickly recovered. “Just resting my eyes.” But she blinked away her sleep. “I suppose you’re right, though. Busy day tomorrow.”
Violet smiled indulgently. “Indeed.” The Duke and Duchess of Cortland were hosting a boat trip along the Thames. Plans were in place to attend the theatre afterward. Iphigenia in Aulis, the Greek play by Euripides, was being performed and had received rave reviews so far.
But Violet wasn’t interested in retiring for the evening just yet. She felt jumpy in her skin, on edge. After she’d delivered her aunt into Gwen’s capable hands, Violet returned downstairs and stepped out the side door.
Most of the flowers in the garden were at the height of their bloom, and she regretted that they hadn’t been appreciated well enough. Trailing her fingertips along some ornamental grass, Violet determined to invite Bethany and her young sisters-in-law over for tea within the next few days. She and Greystone hadn’t entertained since Posy’s ball.
The Season was not going at all as she’d envisioned, and yet it seemed to be passing all too quickly.
A young gentleman at Bethany’s at-home, who also happened to be heir to a viscountcy, had offered to take Posy driving. Violet had nearly fainted when her niece refused, making up the thinnest of excuses.
Lord Shortwood had seemed charmed by Posy’s bubbly demeanor and bouncing curls. The two of them might have made an excellent match.
But now that he’d been rejected by Posy yet again, Violet doubted any such future invitations would be forthcoming. There were too many willing debutantes for an eligible bachelor to put forth much effort these days.
“I thought you’d retired for the evening.”
