She couldn’t love Lord Ferrard.
Shewouldn’tlove Lord Ferrard.
First, he certainly did not return the affection since he called her friend. Second, she wasn’t ready to be married, not that he’d ask, but she’d not give up what she held dear before it was necessary.
You can have one or the other, but not both. Now, you have neither and never will.
The gypsy’s words played in her mind.
Violet pushed them away. It was simply a dream and meant nothing.
However, she must return to Forester Hall. She needed to be in her conservatory. She needed to see her gardens.
She needed to be home.
Chapter 22
Though Liam did not agreethat Emory could trust anything that his father had said, Liam had not been present. His father hadn’t been rambling from senility, but was lucid. Had the words been said during one of his father’s confused moments, Emory wouldn’t have taken them to heart.
Gavin had been the perfect son. Well behaved, never crossed their father or his tutors, and got excellent grades while at Eton. Emory hadn’t needed to be that perfect son. He was the spare. Except, he continued to behave as such even after he became the heir. He hadn’t handled the death of his brother well. Not that he stayed in his room and cried, but he buried the pain of the loss and found outlets for his emotions. There had been fisticuffs at Eton in those final years, and then after his first year at Cambridge when he attended his first Season, Emory had discovered Gentleman Jackson’s and learned the art of being a pugilist. Such activities served him well, until he discovered the pleasure of being with a woman. It was then that he realized that he was much more of a lover than a fighter.
He didn’t put in the time his father would have liked learning all that was needed to run the estate, but Emory thought he had learned well enough. And, truth be told, he’d been doing well since his father now needed his assistance. What he hadn’t been prepared for was the weight of responsibilities upon his shoulders.
Yes, Gavin had been much better suited for the role of viscount and future role of earl, but he was dead, and Emory had been born second, which was why he was determined to finally face his duty, as his father demanded. However, he would not marry the first woman he thought he might get along with. He had a responsibility to his family, but he wasn’t going to damn his future as well.
In the spring, he would give those on the marriage mart consideration, but he wouldn’t rush in. Further, he’d now have a friend among the females—Lady Violet, and it was a comfort to know that she’d be there as well. Most likely both of them would be miserable, but doing their duty, and this year, he might just join her in the gardens.
A smile pulled at his lips. That would be scandalous indeed. Or at least gossip worthy as for the first time in his adult life, Emory would remain within view of the guests while he sought the quiet with Violet. There would be no more widows, for he was going to be respectable, and not only for his father and mother, but for himself.
Emory paused on the walk outside of the Harley home. Lady Violet and a Tilson sister should arrive shortly, and as they’d done each day since the courtship began, they’d stroll.
However, as the moments ticked by, neither one made an appearance.
He did a turn, then walked down the walk to peek into the side gardens where he and Violet had hidden for a short time, but nobody was there.
Of course, it was foolish to think that Violet and a Tilson sister would play such a game.
Turning, he marched back. Where the blazes were they? Emory had only two more days of Violet’s company, three if he included Epiphany, which he decided to do, and he didn’t want to see them wasted.
It was odd that neither one of them were here. While reasonable for one person to be late, it was unusual that they were both behind schedule.
Unless something had happened. Except it wouldn’t have happened to both of them.
His gut tightened. Was Violet not going to walk with him today?
Instead of standing and waiting, Emory marched up to the Harley door and knocked. It wasn’t wise for him to do so, as he risked contracting the measles, but he needed to know if Violet was ill or injured, as she’d been quite punctual until today.
It was Mrs. Harley who opened the door and stepped outside. Emory took a step back, nearly slipping off the step.
“You needn’t worry about me, Lord Ferrard. I had the measles as a child.”
At least he didn’t need to fear becoming ill. “How is Miss Harley?”
“There has been some improvement and your brother anticipates a full recovery. I pray that he is correct.”
“I as well, Mrs. Harley.”
“How can I be of assistance?” she asked.
