But Violet had seen a certain look on Posy’s face when she’d stepped through the door. One that had felt oddly familiar.
Familiar, because she’d felt that sort of anticipation every time she thought of Simon’s promised visit later that night.
Or… Violet laughed to herself. Perhaps she was simply imposing her own feelings on others around her.
She slowed her steps as she neared the gardener’s hut, relieved.
She was relieved because, although she heard giggles inside the small building, they were girlish ones. Posy, Violet surmised, had taken Miss Jones’s idea to hide one step further.
Violet twisted her mouth into an admonishing expression. The supper dance wasn’t far off, and she knew for a fact that her niece had promised it to a very eager and brave Lord Shortwood.
Violet grasped the handle of the door and pulled it open.
And nearly stumbled backward. Was her mind playing tricks on her?
She shook her head and blinked, and when Posy glanced over, catching her eyes, Violet grasped the doorframe for support.
Because Posy had not been hiding away from the festivities.
She was in a passionate embrace.
With a… woman.
Breathe
“Aunt Violet.” Posy did not push the other lady away—a lady Violet vaguely recognized but couldn’t quite place. “I was going to tell you.”
Violet inhaled a deep breath and let it out silently. And the awareness struck her that this moment, perhaps, was to be her most difficult test of all. As an aunt—but also as the person Posy depended on for support, advice, and to love her unconditionally.
A myriad of memories she’d dismissed as insignificant suddenly fell into place. Memories of little things that Violet had chalked up to nothing more than… quirkiness.
Violet wasn’t angry; she was not angry. And although this was something she’d heard of but never quite understood, she was not disgusted.
How could she be disgusted? This is Posy.
Violet tore her gaze from Posy’s tortured look to the blonde girl standing beside her. “Do I know you?”
The young woman dropped her lashes. “Yes, Miss Faraday. I’m Susan Mallard. My parents own the mercantile back home.”
“But of course,” Violet answered through lips that felt numb. And then she glanced back at Posy, who was staring at Miss Mallard looking concerned and, but also caring… and completely besotted.
Violet didn’t want Posy to feel her panic, so she kept her voice level. “Do Mr. and Mrs. Mallard know you are here?”
“They do. Not that I’m here tonight. My older brother and his wife live just off Oxford Street. He is a solicitor, and his wife gave birth to twin boys recently. My parents allowed me to come to London this spring to assist her with them.”
Violet nodded slowly. All of Posy’s secretiveness was taking on new meaning.
“Is your family aware of… the two of you?”
“No, Miss Faraday, and I can never tell them.” At her admission, Miss Mallard looked quite hopeless.
“But we love one another.” Posy lifted her chin. “Mr. Cockfield has been urging me to tell you. He promised you would understand. But I couldn’t find the nerve. I’ve been terrified that you would be disgusted and hate me and I... I hate to be such a disappointment. I love you, Aunt Violet, but—”
“Mr. Cockfield knows?” But of course, Simon knew. And it irritated her to no end that he hadn’t thought to share any of this with her. But he’d been urging Posy to tell her.
He’d told Posy that she would understand.
“Yes, he’s… helped me.” Of course he had. Posy went on to defend him. “But please, don’t be angry with him. And I beg of you not to tell Greystone. I imagine he’ll find out eventually, but I don’t wish to take anything away from his wedding.”
