The village square was crammed with wooden carts and stalls, goods ranging from fresh foodstuffs to jars of jams and honey to local crafts piled high for the visitors’ perusals. A fiddler played on the green, the scent of roasting nuts permeating the air. On one side of the square, the owner of the village tavern had set tables and chairs outside so that patrons could enjoy their foaming tankards while taking in the boisterous scene.
For the first hour, Vi strolled around with Richard, although they had to keep their conversation polite with Lady Ainsworthy dogging their every step. Other guests were enjoying the square as well. Vi observed Tobias Price arm in arm with Mrs. Sumner (the two apparently friends again), and Lord Wormleigh was escorting some young miss whose name Vi couldn’t recall. A beaming Miss Wrotham accepted an apple that Cedric Burns chose for her from the costermonger’s cart.
By the pottery stand, Miss Turbett stood with her papa, looking far less happy. Her expression was pinched, her father’s furious as he watched Wick and his cronies make merry at the tavern. At a table adjacent to the raucous rakehells, Gabby sat with her papa and Mr. Garrity. As the redheaded girl chattered away, her parent looked apprehensive and their guest like the cat that had gotten into the cream.
And so the afternoon went.
At one point, Violet wandered off to sample goods with Polly and Primrose. By the time she finished trying all the different flavors of biscuits at a bakery stall, she found she’d lost her companions in the crowd. Lady Ainsworthy was sitting on a bench farther back, waving her fan in an irritable manner. Vi looked longingly toward the part of the village she’d yet to explore: a spire rose enticingly from a churchyard up ahead.
“I know that look. You’re off to find trouble.” Wick came sauntering up with a tin cup in hand. “If so, may I come?”
She grinned. “I was just going to explore a little.”
He handed her the cup. “Here, drink this first. Compliments of the fellows and I.” He jerked his thumb toward their chums, who were waving from the tavern.
Vi waved back and gratefully downed the beverage. The cider slid pleasantly down her parched throat, although she grimaced at the bitter aftertaste of the mulling spices. Setting the cup down, she said, “Shall we?”
It was like old times. For the next quarter hour, she and Wick laughed and explored the grounds of the ancient church. Here, the noise of the crowd faded away to birdsong and the chirping of crickets. Surrounded by a wall of sun-bleached stone, the churchyard was littered with crumbling grave markers and overgrown with ivy. The place had a forgotten, almost dreamy feel. Come to think of it, Vi was feeling a little… woozy?
She stumbled, catching herself.
“Are you all right?” Wick came up beside her.
“Nothing. Just the heat, I expect.” Shewaswarm, she realized. Heat itched strangely beneath her skin, heightening her awareness of her clothes, how restrictive they felt.
Concern shone in Wick’s eyes. “We’d better get you back.”
As he guided her toward the gate, another wave of dizziness surged over her. She pitched forward, would have fallen if Wick hadn’t caught her. She sagged against him.
“What’s the matter with you, Vi?” He tipped her face up with his gloved hands, the touch of leather sending an odd spark over her nerve endings. He peered at her. “Egad, your cheeks are flushed—”
She swayed forward.
“What in the devil’s name is going on here?” a familiar voice growled.
Richard stood in the arched gateway.
Chapter Thirty-Three
In her muddled state, Violet could only stare at Richard’s enraged features. His brawny form filled the stone gateway, and he looked foreboding—like the way he had when they first met.
What got stuck in his craw?she thought foggily.
“Bloody unhand her Wickham,” he snapped.
“You’re not serious, are you, Carlisle? Look at her, she’s—”
The next instant, Violet felt herself being yanked away from Wick and dragged to Richard’s side. Her senses were already spinning, and the sudden movement didn’t help matters. She clung to Richard to stay upright.
“Leave, Wick, before I do something I regret.” Richard’s voice had a lethal edge.
“I’m not leaving her. She’s unwell, you idiot. I was just—”
“Get the hell out.”
Vi cringed, Richard’s roar pounding at her temples.
“It’s all right, Wick,” she managed. “I’m fine.”
