Yates said his farewells too, and then both men were off, their conversation fading as they rounded a corner at the end of the hallway. Henry rubbed the palm of his hand across his jaw. He and Tremaine had always gotten along in the past, even if his personality had slowly started to clash with Henry’s.
But then Tremaine’s father had elected to send him away to the Colonies and everything had changed. With Tremaine gone, the chaos that had once been Henry’s life had gradually settled. He’d slowly begun examining his own future, and after taking one look at his father’s ledgers, he’d realized he needed to act. Debts had to be paid and an income secured. The Red Rose had been born from a need to do both and was now one of the most popular venues in London.
Henry sighed. Experience shaped a person’s character. While pushing himself toward success had been hard at times, he’d had his family and friends to support him. Tremaine, on the other hand, had been stuck halfway around the world with a wife he hadn’t cared for and who hadn’t cared for him. It couldn’t have been easy. But to come back and accuse Viola of dishonesty, to drag her before a judge in an effort to void the will his father had written, seemed a bit much. Especially since Henry couldn’t for the life of him align the woman he knew with the one Tremaine described.
Which could only mean there was more to this rift between Tremaine and Viola than Tremaine had revealed. The sort of bitterness lacing his words as he’d spoken had to be rooted in longstanding conflict. And that made sense when he considered the way Viola had reacted when Henry had told her Tremaine was his friend. She’d clenched her hands together while molding her mouth into firm disapproval.
Whatever had happened between them went beyond her marrying his father and securing the Tremaine fortune for herself. Henry was certain of it and decided to investigate further. Because if there was one thing he knew without any doubt whatsoever, it was that trouble had landed on Viola’s doorstep and that she would soon need all the help she could get.
Chapter 8
The six gowns Gabriella and Amelia had sent to Viola’s home for her to pick from were the most exquisite she’d ever seen. Unfortunately, none of them fit, and by the time Viola had gotten around to trying them on, it was too late to make alterations. Which meant she was stuck wearing cotton instead of silk.
At least the hem had a ruffle, but as she stood in front of the mirror studying herself, she wasn’t sure it would help counterbalance the mundane color of beech-tree gray. A sigh escaped her. She hadn’t been planning to venture out into Society when she’d ordered it. She’d been imagining an event that would require equal parts practicality and respectability.
“We could try pinning one of the other gowns instead of actually sewing it,” Harriet suggested when she came to check on Viola’s progress. “It might look quite nice if we do it discreetly.”
“There isn’t time,” Viola said with a quick glance at the clock. The Huntleys were due to arrive in five minutes to pick her up.
“I have a colorful bead necklace you’re welcome to borrow,” Diana said as she came to join them. “It’s not very costly but it’s pleasing to the eye.”
“Thank you,” Viola told her friend. She grabbed a burgundy shawl, which at least added some degree of color, and wrapped it around her shoulders. “But the truth is I do not mind what I’m wearing so terribly much.” She gave a shrug. “I feel comfortable in it.”
“Being comfortable and looking good aren’t always the same thing,” Harriet argued. “One must occasionally sacrifice one in favor of the other.”
“That shouldn’t be necessary,” Viola told her. She exited her room with her friends close behind her and began descending the stairs.
“It often is when one is trying to attract a man’s interest,” Diana said at her back.
“Then it is a good thing I’m not doing any such thing.” Arriving in the foyer, Viola turned to smile at Diana and Harriet. Neither looked even remotely convinced.
“So then you intend to heed our advice and avoid Mr. Lowell’s attentions?” Diana asked.
“By having dinner with him,” Harriet added.
Viola glanced at the door and hoped the Huntleys would soon arrive to save her from this conversation. “I am having dinner with a few acquaintances of mine. The fact that Mr. Lowell happens to own the club where we shall be dining is inconsequential.”
A knock at the door announced that the carriage had arrived.
“I think she’s delusional,” Viola heard Harriet saying as she exited her home.
“Without a doubt,” was Diana’s response as the door closed firmly behind her.
Perhaps they were right, but Viola was starting to think they’d misjudged Mr. Lowell’s character as poorly as she and the rest of Society. Especially if what he said was true and he had indeed fabricated every salacious rumor himself. It seemed unfathomable, but so did the prospect of him turning out to be every bit the dangerous rake he was purported to be.
The problem was, he was simply too nice.
“What happened to the gowns we sent you?” Gabriella whispered close to Viola’s ear as they walked toward The Red Rose’s entrance later.
“Apparently you and Amelia are not the same size or shape as me,” Viola whispered back while deliberately lifting her chin and straightening her spine. She would not be pitied by anyone—least of all by Mr. Lowell. “So I am wearing the only good dress I have, even though I am perfectly aware that it’s not very fashionable or appropriate for an evening such as this.”
At least the neckline was a little bit lower than the ones on the nurse’s gowns she wore most days. The hint of skin it revealed made her feel less frumpy than if it had reached all the way to her neck.
“The truth is you do not need extravagant gowns to look pretty, Viola. I actually think the cut you’re wearing suits you exceedingly well,” Gabriella told her.
“You don’t consider the color too bland?”
“It agrees with your complexion and fails to distract from your natural beauty.”
