Mulling it over, Vi said, “If you can’t work, perhaps you could economize?”
In the past, her family had known lean times, and she could recall many a meal where a loaf of bread and some cheese had been stretched to feed them all. Her belly rumbled at the memories.
“It wouldn’t be sufficient.” Color crept up Wick’s jaw; his gaze slid away. “I suppose I’ll have to pursue Miss Turbett and her twenty thousand after all.”
“I’m sorry, Wick.” Vi didn’t know what else to say.
“There’s no need for pity. An advantageous marriage will help not only me, but my family.” He drew his shoulders back, the gold buttons of his blue waistcoat gleaming like miniature medals. “I’m willing to make the sacrifice for the good of all.”
“That’s awfully noble of you,” Vi said admiringly. “You’re a jolly fine chap.”
She wished with all her being that she could help her friend, to whom she owed so much. Before Wick, thetonhad been a lonely and hostile place. Subtlety wasn’t her strong point, but even she couldn’t miss the snubs of the other debutantes, the way their circles closed when she came near. Coy, overly loud voices had oft drifted in her direction.
... her gown is fashionable enough, but her manner—so unrefined! She’s a veritable hoyden…
… I vow I’ve never seen a lady laugh with her mouth open so wide. She’ll catch flies if she’s not careful. And the way she eats, like ahorse…
… that hurly-burly will never land a husband—unless one of her brothers-in-law can purchase one for her…
Violet had soldiered through those first months. Not wanting to worry her family (or give them further ammunition for lectures), she’d kept things to herself, silently repeating her motto:pull yourself up by your slipper laces.She told herself that it didn’t matter what others thought. But the snide glances and whispers had gradually doused her excitement at being in London, and she’d begun to dread social events… until Wick had come along.
Dear Wick—he’d changed everything. The two of them had hit it off from the start. He’d introduced her to his friends, and the jovial bunch had welcomed her into their fold.
With Wick and his cronies, she’d found a place of belonging. Being with him was as easy as being with her older brother Harry, who’d been her closest companion growing up. Wick was a ripping chum, and she was never bored in his presence. Best of all, be it a game of cards or a bet to see who could tolerate the most spins during a dance, he never let her win just because she was a female. He treated her as an equal, took her seriously. He didn’t try to control or change her.
He accepted her; for that, he’d have her gratitude and friendship forever.
Now he gave a doleful shake of his head. “Enough palavering about my let pockets. You’re so easy to talk to that sometimes I forget that you’re a female—no, scratch that. What I mean is you’re like one of the fellows… bloody hell.” His mouth had a sheepish curve. “By the time this conversation is finished, I’ll have dug a hole all the way to China.”
“Bring back some tea, will you?” she quipped. “I’m particularly fond of the Souchong.”
“Wretch.” Wick’s smile deepened. “Never mind my future prospects—what about yours? See anything of interest on the Marriage Mart tonight?”
Violet wrinkled her nose. To her, the prospect of marriage wasn’t the least bit appealing. It would mean having one more person telling her what to do. Her family was overprotective as it was, and the last thing she needed was the added supervision of a husband.
Moreover, romantic attraction remained a mystery to her. It was, she thought with a smidgen of worry, one more way in which she was different. One by one, her older siblings had fallen passionately in love—and she couldn’t even figure out how to carry on a flirtation. Orwhyto.
Growing up, she’d found boys to be excellent co-conspirators in adventures, yet the notion of forming atendrefor one of them was… puzzling. She’d witnessed her companions engage in spitting contests, brawl in the mud, and scratch their unmentionable areas in the manner of flea-infested canines. They cussed in colorful terms (usually referencing the same unmentionable body parts) and seemed to find anything pertaining to chamber pots hysterically funny.
Then, as the lads had gotten older, the discovery of the opposite sex had turned them either into moonstruck greenlings or dedicated skirt-chasers. Wick was an excellent example of the latter. He was a charming rake through and through and thrived off female attention.
None of these male tendencies bothered Violet. They didn’t make her want tomarryone of the dolts, however. Freedom held far more appeal.
Rolling her eyes, she said, “You know I’m not shopping, Wick.”
“How lucky you are,” he said with such heartfelt emotion that she laughed. “Well, I’d best go troll the waters. Shall I return you to the loving bosom of your family?”
She cast a furtive glance around. Seeing that the coast remained clear, she decided she wasn’t yet ready to surrender to the shackles of chaperonage. “I think I’ll explore a little first.”
“Suit yourself. But stay out of trouble, you hear?”
“Did the pot just call the kettle black?” she returned.
Exchanging grins, they went their separate ways.
Keeping to the potted palms and other concealing foliage, Vi trotted along, idly observing the revelry around her. Already she could sense the return of the restlessness that had bedeviled her since she was a child. She’d frustrated her scholarly papa to no end with her fidgeting and inability to focus on books and lessons. Unlike her brother Harry, who could work on mathematics problems forever, she felt ready to burst from her skin just moments after her bottom came into contact with a chair.
Luckily, one of her favorite forms of distraction caught her attention. She followed the tantalizing smells to the queue at the heavily laden buffet table. When it came to her turn, she happily inspected the offerings and took one of everything. She was finishing the last bit of a tasty mince tart when her gaze caught on a gleaming golden spire peeping above a row of potted ferns.
