“Thank you.” Viola placed her hand on Coventry’s arm and allowed him to guide her toward the front door.
They arrived in the foyer, and Florian’s manservant, Mr. Dunhurst, was there, his voice loudly announcing her arrival. Silence settled, curious stares followed and then came the whispers, whirling around her like autumn leaves rustling in the wind.
Viola straightened her spine. “Thank you for coming,” she said, as loudly as she could manage. “I hope you enjoy your evening.” Unable to stop herself, she searched the room for the only person whose presence truly mattered. He was standing some distance away, his gaze sharp with interest and something else she could not define.
Pleasure flooded her insides as Viola acknowledged the effect she was having on Mr. Lowell. Until a subtle movement at his side caught her notice and she became aware of the woman who clung to his arm. She was young, with hair spun from copper and gold. Her lips were a bright shade of pink, her eyes a dazzling blue. Incredibly stunning, she rose up onto her toes and whispered something in Mr. Lowell’s ear.
He immediately smiled in response, and the pleasure Viola had felt seconds earlier turned to ice. This was not how her evening was meant to proceed. Mr. Lowell was supposed to come greet her, flirt with her and make her blush in that way she’d come to crave. Instead he was with someone else—a debutante, she presumed, who’d be more than willing to accept any offer of marriage he made.
Viola took a shaky breath. It was too late. She’d been too indecisive, too unwelcoming of Mr. Lowell’s advances, and now he’d moved on to someone else.
“Viola.” She heard Gabriella before she saw her. The duchess slipped past a couple of men, bringing Amelia with her. “Oh my goodness. It’s quite the crush already and I don’t believe all the guests have arrived yet.”
Relieved with the distraction her friends offered, Viola smiled in greeting. “I must say I’m impressed with the turnout.” She cast a fleeting glance in Mr. Lowell’s direction and saw he was starting to come toward them. Having to greet him right now, to have him introduce her to whoever the young woman was and possibly declare her his fiancée, would be much too difficult. “Perhaps we ought to move into the next room so we’re not blocking the entrance.”
Agreeing with her, they proceeded toward an arched doorway on the right, pausing occasionally so Viola could greet people individually and exchange a few words. To her relief, everyone was polite and eager to compliment the center. Not a single word of censure was spoken.
“You have truly outdone yourself, Viola,” Amelia said when she saw how the lounge area had been decorated with divans upholstered in mauve damask silk. The rich color was further accentuated by matching veil curtains adorning a series of windows set in an ochre-colored wall.
“Just look at the detail on that mirror over there,” Gabriella said. “And that counter you’ve placed beneath it is simply fantastic. An incredible piece of craftsmanship.”
“I’m still not entirely sure what purpose it ought to serve,” Viola said. “Florian found it in the attic of Redding House after his uncle died. He suggested we use it here because of the intricate floral carvings.”
“It’s most unusual,” Huntley said. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“Looks like a display shelf,” Coventry supplied, “except longer and wider.”
“You could use it for that,” Gabriella said. Her eyes seemed to brighten with renewed excitement. “You could place little boxes or baskets filled with soaps, lotions and perfumes on it. By offering the same products your employees use on the clients for sale, you might add some extra income.”
Viola stared at the duchess. “That’s a marvelous suggestion.” A thought began taking shape in her head. She considered it a moment before saying, “Since this center was your idea to begin with and keeping in mind how good you are at coming up with ways in which to improve it, I wonder if you would like to be more involved with the day-to-day running.”
Gabriella beamed. “I should like that a great deal, Viola.” She looked up at Huntley. “If you agree.”
Her husband placed his arm around her waist and quietly murmured, “If it makes you happy, my love, I agree wholeheartedly.”
Ignoring the swift pang of envy piercing her heart, Viola addressed the practical issues of such an arrangement. “Your time would have to be donated.”
“But of course! I would not dream of demanding compensation, Viola. Not when I do not need it and certainly not when I know the income is meant for St. Agatha’s,” Gabriella said at the exact same moment Mr. Lowell appeared.
Viola’s heart began thumping more loudly. A series of hot little embers proceeded to dance across her skin as he took her in. When he reached for her hand and raised it to his lips, her body began to tremble with a need for added closeness, the likes of which she’d never experienced before.
“Mesmerizing,” he murmured, his voice brushing her knuckles the second before his lips touched her smoldering skin.
Sparks shot up her arm and across her shoulders before diving straight down her middle. Viola’s bodice tightened and continued to do so as Mr. Lowell’s gaze dropped to the swell of her breasts. He dropped her hand and straightened his posture, and for several seconds Viola could not recall why she’d tried to avoid him earlier.
Ah yes. The diamond of the first water.
The reminder cooled her response to him most effectively. She raised her chin and met his gaze boldly. “Good evening, Mr. Lowell. I wasn’t aware you’d arrived yet.”
He gave her an odd look before giving his attention to the rest of the group. “Have you tried the salmon bites with dill yet? They’re incredibly delicious.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever experienced such tiny meals before,” Coventry said. “It’s most ingenious really, since one can eat while continuing to stand about chatting.”
“A necessity since I lack the space for a supper room large enough to accommodate everyone,” Viola said. “When I met with Florian’s chef to discuss our options, he said he’d craft tiny portions that could be consumed without the need for cutlery.”
“I believe he’s French,” Mr. Lowell said. “They’re renowned for their innovative cuisine, are they not?”
“I really have no idea,” Viola remarked.
