“Sorry, old habits die hard.”
He swept her an awkward but elaborate bow. Violet smiled and returned his genuflection with one of her own.
Chapter 13
As Violet left the house, she half-feared that Alexander would pursue her. Not because she was afraid of his intentions, but because she would not have the willpower to resist. Resist those twin pools of darkness that were his eyes. Eyes that had seen much horror but eloquently spoke of vulnerability and need. She found herself breathless as she opened the front door and stepped outside, taking a deep breath as she did so.
Do not look back. If he is watching you leave, you do not need the added temptation of his gaze upon you now that you know what thoughts are within his head. And within my own!
But she could not help herself. Before she pulled the door closed behind her, she glanced over her shoulder. Alexander was watching her. Still barefoot like a savage. His hair cascaded around his hard, scarred face. Handsome features pulled into a tight, unreadable expression. Those eyes hooked her, compelling her to turn back. As her gaze locked on his, she caught thebeginning of movement in his posture, quickly suppressed. A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth.
He faces the same struggle as I, fighting to hold himself back. At least it is not just me who is bewitched.
The door closed, cutting off his gaze and Violet hurried along the street towards the Knightsbridge Turnpike and Hyde Park. She would find a cab there to take her to Uncle George’s Great Russell Street townhouse, overlooking the British Museum. The day was warm and dry, and Violet put up her parasol against the worst of the sun’s rays and, as she approached Hyde Park Corner, slowed her pace. It would not do to be seen hurrying. That would appear unseemly. Far better to maintain a measured and dignified gait. There were many ladies and gentlemen in Hyde Park, walking or riding, taking advantage of the clement weather. Where they crossed her path, Violet smiled and exchanged pleasantries.
Her thoughts never strayed far from the enigmatic Scotsman that she had left behind.
And to think that I thought to match him with Lillian! I have been a very poor cousin to her. Lord forgive me for my inconstancy. But he surely would not be suitable for her anyway. He is too wild.
Color flooded her cheeks at the thought of his wildness, his strength, his beauty. The true reason she would not pursue matchmaking between Alexander and Lillian is that she would not wish to give him to any other woman.
Not that I have a claim on him. I have been treated like the lowest of women, manhandled and taken advantage of!
And how thrilling it had been. How thrilling it remained, thinking of herself as a courtesan who had been used by the Duke to satisfy his lusts. The flame in her cheeks was becoming uncomfortable in its brightness. She pulled her bonnet down to one side, using the brim to give some shade to her face, lowering the parasol slightly also. A man was walking towards her, looking at her. For a moment, so preoccupied was she, that she did not realize he was stopping before her and raising his top hat.
“Lady Violet, what a pleasure to see you again,” said the man.
Violet stopped, just suppressing a gasp of surprise, and fighting to compose her face. Thoughts of Alexander were banished and she forced herself to concentrate on the moment and the gentleman before her. He was tall, slender, and fair-haired, with bright blue eyes and the perfect beauty of a Michelangelo creation. For a heartbeat, Violet had no idea of his name, her thoughts spinning in confusion. Then she regained her senses.
“Lord Ambrose, a pleasure as always. How are you this afternoon?”
Ambrose swept a perfect bow, smiling a perfect smile. Violet supposed that such perfection would turn the heads of many women but she could only think of a wild Duke who preferred being amongst nature than the trappings of polite society.
“I am quite well, dear Lady. Areyouquite well? Forgive me for asking but your cheeks do look quite inflamed.”
Violet patted at her cheeks, knowing that the attention would bring on another blush.
“It is the exertion. I have walked from…some distance. Probably more than I should,” she said, avoiding mention of where she had walked from.
“Indeed. If one is not used to it, prolonged exercise can play havoc with one’s equilibrium. Would you allow me to call for a cab? Or better yet, some refreshments to bolster your reserves. Luncheon? I know a charming restaurant not far from here that prepares a simply sublime Dover sole.”
Violet’s instinct was to accept the invitation. The Earl of Godstone was a well-known and respected member of the Ton. A leader of the Tory party in the House of Lords and a fixture at all society events in London. To be within his circle was to be atop the social hierarchy which brought with it a great deal of social capital. Such capital could be spent securing a favorable match for Lillian.
It is my duty to take up the offer of luncheon and further cement my friendship with this man. For the sake of my family.
The fact was that she wanted nothing more than to return to the privacy of her rooms and allow her whirling thoughts to return to her carnal act with the Duke of Lorchester. To puzzle out her feelings for him and how best to proceed with the promisesshe had made to him. Ambrose looked at her expectantly but politely. Violet suppressed a sigh, realizing that her duty to her rank and position within society outweighed her personal choices.
“Why, of course, Lord Godstone. That is most kind of you. Where did you have in mind?”
“It is Harker’s. Along Piccadilly, opposite the Ranger’s Lodge in Green Park. Do you know it?”
“I have heard of it but have never patronized the establishment,” Violet said.
Ambrose turned on his heel and proffered his arm. Violet took it, again out of a sense of duty. Once upon a time, she would have considered a man of Ambrose’s refinement as someone to be admired. In fact, as early as just a few days ago. Now though, she could not help but think that a man was more admirable with a roughness to him. A sharp edge not filed down by a public school education and a strict drilling in social propriety.
Now, stop it. You are being silly. One kiss and you are losing your head! Well, one kiss and…considerable…touching.
Feeling as though she would blush again, she focused on Ambrose’s conversation, making herself listen intently to each word. They made small talk as they walked east along Piccadilly. Try as she might though, it was proving difficult to remain properly attentive to her companion’s conversation. Ambroseseemed prone to bragging. He boasted of his achievements in the House, of his wealth, and the grandeur of his Norfolk estate.
