Undoubtedly the servants must be in need since they’d not returned to their home in two days and hadn’t left Forester Hall prepared to spend the next fortnight in an inn. How would he feel if he were stuck somewhere with only one set of clothing to get him by for a fortnight? It would be miserable.
Blast!
Emory grabbed his greatcoat and headed out the door. Hopefully, Lady Violet hadn’t gone far.
“Lady Violet?” he called after he spotted her on the other side of the street.
She slowly turned and frowned. “You know who I am?”
“Yes. I’ve seen you in London.”
She nodded as if his explanation was enough.
“Emory Talbot, Viscount Ferrard, the doctor’s older brother.”
“I apologize for not greeting you properly.”
“It isn’t as if we’ve been introduced,” he reminded her.
“Yes, of course,” she agreed.
He was now beginning to understand the discussions from the night before as to her oddities.
“If you still need someone to retrieve the belongings of your servants, I will be happy to do so for you.”
Her eyes widened as she smiled, nearly stealing his breath at her beauty. “That is very kind of you, Lord Ferrard.” Then she sobered and notched her chin. “However, I’m certain you have more pressing matters. Therefore, I will not prevail upon your time.”
The shift in her emotions made Emory want to help. He wanted to see her smile again and realized that he’d not seen it once in London.
“I’m here to visit my brother, but his presence is required elsewhere.”
“If it truly is no imposition, I would welcome your assistance.”
“I assure you, I have little to occupy my time for the duration of my holiday.”
Her smile returned, just as he’d hoped.
“I am grateful and, in your debt, Lord Ferrard.”
Chapter 3
It wasn’tunusual for Violet to be perplexed, though answers were usually found to solve her curiosity. Her encounter with Lord Ferrard had left her as such. In fact, he’d left her unsettled in a way she’d not experienced on any previous occasion. Not only did she experience an odd quiver in her belly the moment he opened the door and looked into her eyes, but she’d also grown warm.
She wasn’t ill. At least she didn’t believe so. She had no fever, nor headache, nor did she feel the need to toss up her accounts, so this was not an illness. Yet, disquieting, as if something had shifted from her normal disposition.
Maybe she’d eaten something that was unsettling. Though the symptoms did not match those of eating poorly prepared food.
As she strolled back to the inn, Violet pondered these sensations.
A queer sensation in her midriff, growing warm, both appearing together and almost instantly upon looking into Ferrard’s blue eyes.
Though they were more than just blue. They were sapphire and quite lovely.
Violet frowned and gave consideration that perhaps she’d been attracted to him, except she had not suffered the certain signs of attraction, therefore, it must be something else.
In fact, Violet was certain that it was not attraction because she had far too much sense to be drawn to a rake. She well knew his preference for young widows and had lost count of the number that he’d squired away at balls. Not that she faulted him, of course. It was how bachelors behaved, and widows as well.
A few of her brothers were no different, and therefore should not be judged on such behavior. She only wished others wouldn’t judge her as it was quite unfair. Lord Ferrard could take a widow from a ball and return hours later, and everyone knew that he’dnotsimply escorted her home and nary a word was mentioned. However, her sitting among the flowers and trees was remarked upon often, as if she were the one behaving in a scandalous manner.
