Not a happy subject.
“I feel as though I’ve failed her.” Greys held up a hand to contradict her opinion, but Violet continued, “Not in any of the learning she’s had, but… I cannot help but wonder if I didn’t unintentionally convey my own disdain for the notion of love, for marriage—from my experiences. Because, unfortunately, she’s chased away the few young men who were brave enough to approach her.”
“There is always another year,” he said.
“But we won’t worry about that today.” The last thing she wanted to do was set a pall over Greys and Diana’s engagement celebration. “Are you going to see Diana before the ball today?”
Greys smiled. “I’m taking her for a drive.” He glanced at his timepiece. “And as she’s expecting me early, I suppose I ought to wash the smell of horse off me.”
“No horse would dare leave his scent on you,” Violet teased, because even though he’d just gone riding, Greystone, of course, looked impeccable as usual.
“Normally, I’d agree with such an expectation,” he replied. “But today, I am unwilling to test your theory.”
The Betrothal Ball
Violet touched her fingers to her hair and took a last look in her vanity mirror. Her hair had been curled and pinned up loosely, and the gown she’d chosen for that night was an emerald silk, embellished with darker green embroidery around the bodice and forest velvet trim.
Not at all an ensemble she’d imagined for herself when she’d planned for the Season. She stilled at a realization that she had changed. She felt very different than the person who’d stepped off that carriage little more than a month ago.
And it wasn’t only because of the affair, but because of what she’d learned about herself having entered it. She…liked herself more. She wasn’t afraid to pursue something important to her. She didn’t need to go through life hiding. And even though Simon couldn’t dance with her at the ball tonight, she wasn’t going to sit by the wall with the chaperones. She would mingle and she would be happy. She was going to enjoy herself.
And—if the opportunity presented itself, she was going to invite Simon to her chamber that evening.
Her heart raced at the thought that time was running out for the two of them. With each day that passed, she’d become less concerned about being discovered and more anxious about their attachment coming to an end.
A knock sounded at the door and Posy peeked inside. “I thought I’d go down with you.”
“Is it time already?”
Although the engaged couple had t decided to forgo a formal dinner, Lord Chaswick and Bethany, along with the elder Miss Jones and Diana, were scheduled to arrive early for drinks and lighter fare. That would allow all of them plenty of time to settle in before taking their places in line to greet what promised to be a long line of guests.
“Close enough. Oh, Aunt Violet, that color is beautiful on you.”
“Not too much for a spinster?”
“Not at all.” Posy stepped around her to examine the gown from all angles. “And why shouldn’t a spinster dress to dazzle if she is so inclined?”
At this, Violet was reminded of the concern that had been pressing into her.
She took Posy’s hands. “I feel as though my own reluctance to marry has somehow put you off the idea of finding a husband.” Her niece began shaking her head, but Violet persisted. “There are so many aspects to recommend it. And you will want children and a home. Not to mention companionship.”
“Aunt Iris doesn’t have children, and she is content. I rather respect her independence, really—and yours.”
“But look at Greystone and how happy he is with Miss Diana. Don’t you want the chance to know such… joy?”
Her own feelings for Simon nudged into her thoughts, squeezing her heart at the same time. He may be the only person who could ever have brought her the unique happiness Greystone looked forward to.
Even if he was the sort of gentleman who was inclined to marry, the situation was impossible. She’d bring disgrace on the people who loved her. She would be shunned from the life she’d been born to.
Violet shook her head. She could not allow her thoughts to flirt with such an idea.
Foolish. Impossible.
“I think,” Posy squeezed Violet’s hands back, looking more serious than she had all spring, “that rather than hunt for a husband, I’d prefer to wait for that perfect person to come into my life willingly.”
“But…” Violet paused. “But you are not against the idea of marrying?”
“I wouldn’t be.” Posy smiled. “But only to a person who loved me for myself and only if I loved that person more than anyone else in the world. And if I could marry that person, I would.”
