She closed her eyes briefly and took a deep breath. She was Viola Cartwright, for heaven’s sake; a woman capable of wielding a pistol and scalpel with equal skill. For the past two years, she’d proved herself capable of achieving more than most men ever did in their lifetimes because of her focus.
Tapping into that resource now honed her concentration and allowed her to send the red ball into the nearest pocket by knocking the white cue ball against it.
Relief and immense satisfaction filled her. “I did it!”
“Well done.” Mr. Lowell collected the red ball from the pocket, placed it on the table and drew the cue stick out of her hand and smiled. “My turn now.”
He didn’t touch her again for the remainder of the game, allowing her to find the positions that worked best for her on her own. Keeping his distance from her by continuously taking his shots from the opposite side of the table, Mr. Lowell remained on his best behavior for the rest of the evening.
“You’re a natural at this,” he told her encouragingly the next time she managed to sink the correct ball in one of the pockets.
“I had an excellent teacher,” she replied with a smile.
“If you are referring to me, then I’m flattered,” he said with a wink right before taking his turn. The yellow ball rolled smoothly across the green felt and clanged against the red ball, which bounced against the side of the table, missing the pocket by a hair’s width. He muttered something beneath his breath and straightened his posture. “Looks like it’s all up to you. If you sink that red ball now, you win the game, Viola.”
She met his gaze, which was warm even though it lacked the sensuality from earlier. Instead she found the same kind of thrilling excitement she felt when competing against someone else. Except in this instance, it wasn’t for himself but for her. He wanted her to succeed, and that piece of knowledge completely undid her.
Averting her gaze from his, Viola gave her attention to the balls on the table. She considered the best angle for the shot and positioned herself accordingly. It wasn’t complicated. The balls were lined up perfectly. But she could feel Mr. Lowell’s eyes on her, and this made her hands tremble. She glanced up at him briefly and relaxed in response to his serious expression.
Shifting her weight for better balance, she honed in on her target and slid the cue stick forward with just the right amount of force to carefully place the red ball in the pocket.
“Brilliant!” Mr. Lowell cheered.
Viola straightened herself and grinned while turning to face him. “What an exhilarating game.” She was thrilled with the progress she’d made in only one evening and with beating a man who’d played so many times before.
“I’m glad you enjoyed it.” He approached her for the first time since the beginning of the game and held out his hand to accept her cue stick.
As she handed it to him, a pulse went through her in anticipation of his touch. But unlike earlier, he made no attempt to brush his fingers discreetly against hers. In fact, he made sure to keep his hand far enough away from hers on the cue stick to avoid any contact at all.
“Thank you for the game,” Viola muttered. She could not explain the strange sense of loss now filling her body. It was as if an invisible hand had reached inside her and pulled away half of her joy.
When it was finally time for her to take her leave, Mr. Lowell did nothing more than offer a smile before saying, “Thank you for a lovely evening. I look forward to our outing tomorrow.” But he spoke not only to her, but to Huntley, Coventry, Gabriella and Amelia as well, and as proper as that was, Viola was forced to acknowledge a twinge of disappointment when he failed to single her out.
Chapter 10
Viola was finishing her breakfast the following morning when Diana brought her a letter. “This just arrived,” her friend said. She and Harriet had both been up by the time Viola had come downstairs. After giving them a brief account of the previous evening, which had ended later than Viola was used to, her friends had left her to enjoy the morning paper while she ate.
“Shall I start clearing the table?” Diana asked.
“If you don’t mind, I would really appreciate that,” Viola told her. “Huntley and his wife will be here any moment to pick me up.” She tore open the unfamiliar seal and scanned the contents, her pulse accelerating with every word she read.
Dear Madam,
I wish to inform you that His Grace, the Duke of Tremaine has hired me to oversee the case he wishes to make against you. It is imperative that we meet to discuss the matter at your earliest convenience. I therefore ask that you respond to this letter promptly and apprise me of your availability.
Sincerely,
Michael B. Hayes, Barrister-at-Law
She’d known this would arrive eventually, but she’d allowed herself to forget about the trouble Robert threatened to cause. Instead she’d concentrated on work and enjoying time with friends. Her shoulders sagged and she dropped the letter on top of the table. The prospect of spending the day at Woolwich no longer appealed. The knowledge that she was now officially pitched against Robert in a battle over money had put a sour taste in her mouth.
Briefly, she closed her eyes and envisioned the catastrophe this could turn into. Even if she won, the news of the case would likely be snatched up by some hungry journalist. Her rise to wealth would be stirred up again, reminding thetonthat she was an upstart who did not belong.
And if she lost...
She shook her head, unable to conceive of such an option.
So she took a sip of her tea. First order of business would be acquiring a barrister of her own. The solicitor who’d helped her with her inheritance and the legalities involved in setting up the hospital, had been older than her husband and had recently died, so he could no longer recommend anyone. Pondering this predicament for a moment, she decided to ask Huntley and Gabriella if they could. With new resolve, she took the letter to her study and placed it on her desk. She then went to put on her spencer, bonnet and gloves, and was ready the moment the knocker sounded at the front door.
