Violet decided to change the subject and begin tackling her second biggest worry.
“Do you suppose you will wish to see Lord Godstone again after the kindness he has shown you?”
Lillian laughed. “Very well, Vi. I can tell when you do not want to continue a particular subject. Well, I do not know. For all of the strangeness in his behavior, he is very handsome and accomplished. Are they not qualities I am supposed to be seeking out in a man?”
“Ordinarily, yes,” Violet said, wondering how to begin phrasing her steering of Lillian away from Ambrose.
If I am right and the man is my father, then he is also Lillian’s Uncle, though only by marriage…sort of. I do not recall any talk of my mother being married, which means I was conceived out of wedlock!
That thought had only just occurred to her. It had to be that way, of course. She felt sure that if her mother had been married, there would have been no secrecy about the identity of her father. But, even though there was no blood connection between Ambrose Devereaux and Lillian, it would still be wrong.
Surely, Ambrose would not be pursuing her. He must know who I am and therefore his familial connection to the Ravendels. I feel sure he was showing kindness to Lillian in the role of an Uncle.
“Ordinarily? Is there something out of the ordinary about this situation?” Lillian asked.
“Do you not think that there is? He is a political opponent of Alexander and suddenly, at a crucial moment, takes an interest in the Ravendels. I consider that unusual. Or, at the very least, suspect.”
Lillian sat back in her seat, lips pursed. She gazed out of the window silently for a moment.
“Could it not be that despite his political machinations, he saw me and felt attracted to me? Could it not be that he simply wishes to get to know me better?” she asked.
“I do not think so, I am sorry, Lillian,” Violet said, unable to say anything else.
I cannot give her false hope just to avoid confronting the truth. I must let her down at some point and there is no avoiding the pain that will cause.
Lillian nodded quietly. “Perhaps that explains why you are so reluctant to go after your Duke. You have set your sights on a finer man, one without the Duke’s rough edges. One that would be instantly acceptable to the Ton. I know how important that is to you, Violet,” she said.
Violet’s heart broke, hearing the hurt in Lillian’s voice and knowing that she was the cause.
But what else can I do? Lillian’s heart must be broken to spare her the rejection that would ultimately come. I am sorry, dearcousin. You will always be my sister in my heart and what I do is for the greater good.
She turned back to the window to hide the tears that spilled from her eyes.
Chapter 30
As Alexander strode away from the Palace of Westminster, he felt as though he were leaving part of his body behind. More than once, he suppressed the urge to turn and run back. He wanted to take Violet’s hand and run with her. Run far from this place in any direction. Leave behind London and Parliament, the Ton and English society.
A croft in the highlands would suit. Somewhere far from people. She may understand how to deal with people but I do not. Not the kind that inhabits the world I have been thrust into anyway.
Ambrose’s words haunted him. The man was a snake, capable of turning and lashing out in any direction. A man unused to defeat who made himself resplendent in his unopposed success. He wore his assumed superiority like a golden crown. What might such a man do when finally faced with defeat, particularly from one who he considered so far beneath him?
Might the bastard strike at Violet to get at me? I would put nothing past him. If he thought it would help defeat me, I believe he would hurt anyone without a qualm.
That fact seemed to have been proved already by Ambrose’s sudden interest in the Ravendels. He had turned up in Violet’s path and then again, charming Lillian into accompanying him.
And turning Violet’s Uncle against me too. The man had never met me, had no reason to be so opposed to me. Ambrose is trying to undermine me by removing those he sees as my supports. And I do not know how to fight him!
He did not know in what direction he was walking or where he was going. A small part of him whispered that he would end up at the riverside eventually, seeking out a dark, smoky tavern where he could dive into the oblivion that came from strong drink. Or perhaps engineer a scrap with another lost soul and vent his anger in that direction. Fights in dockside taverns were easy to come by.
“Your Grace!”
He stopped when he realized that the voice that had just penetrated his red-misted gloom had been calling him for some time. Turning, he looked through a curtain of hair falling across his face. A young man in the plain but well-made clothing of a middling clerk skidded to a halt on his heels. He had a round, well-fed face, and eyes that blinked behind wire-rimmed spectacles. He raised his hands defensively at the look on Alexander’s face and swallowed, wetting his lips with his tongue.
“Your pardon, Your Grace, please. But, my employer wishes to speak with you.”
“And who is your employer, lad,” Alexander growled.
“Your pardon, again, Your Grace. Mr. Octavius Gellert, Solicitor.” The man gulped.
