Page 25 of Only a Mistress Will Do

In his scarlet waistcoat and jacket, Donningham reminded Tris of a male bird with mating plumage in full display.

“Then I will make no demur, my lord. I look forward to our dance with anticipation.” Violet cast her gaze down shyly.

By God, she played the game well. Had she possessed a dowry, she’d have been married long ago.

“I fear we must press on, my dear.” He leaned over and patted her hand. “We must return before dark and the light goes so early this time of year.” Tris inclined his head, relieved to take his leave. “Donningham, Miss Tate.”

“It was such a pleasure to meet you, Miss Tate. Lord Donningham. I do look forward to seeing you again.” Violet nodded to them.

Almost before they’d finished speaking, Tris had urged the team back onto the path that circled the park. The carriage had scarcely gotten out of earshot of Donningham’s carriage when she turned to him.

“That went rather well, don’t you think?”

“Lord Donningham certainly seemed taken with you.” Refusing to look at her, Tris snapped the ribbons and the horses picked up their pace.

“He was still in mourning when I was out last summer or I daresay we’d have met already. I am surprised I didn’t meet his sister, though.” Violet cocked her head. “And I hardly think asking for a dance qualifies as being ‘taken with me.’ I will admit, however, I was rather flattered. He’s very handsome.”

Tris grunted. Damn Donningham.

She laughed and drew the lap robe close up over her shoulders. “Brrr. It has gotten quite chilly.” A sly glance at him and she smiled. “I suppose we should go home, then. We seem to have accomplished what you wanted.”

“What I wanted?” Tris almost yelped, then sighed and got himself in hand. “Yes, I believe we have. Home it is.” He compelled the horses on and they completed their circuit of the park at a fast trot. At least he’d made a step toward finding a suitable marriage for Violet. Of course, watching her dance and flirt with Donningham and others would be difficult, but he’d manage. Beginning anything unpleasant was always rough on a chap. Still it was necessary.

Their return to Lammas House proved uneventful. Tris gave Thomas their cloaks as they entered.

“Allow me to repair my appearance before dinner, Tris. I’m terribly windblown.” She dashed up the stairs, her feet pounding softly.

“Everything is in place?” Tris spoke quietly to the butler.

Thomas nodded. “Just as you wished, my lord.”

“Excellent. You have the light supper ready?”

“Yes, my lord. Mrs. Parker is keeping it hot.”

Violet reappeared and raced down the stairs, her skirts swirling around her. “High-perch phaetons are not conducive to stylish or even neat hair. What is wrong?” She stopped on the last step, her gaze riveted to his face.

“Not one thing, my dear. You are a vision of loveliness, phaeton or no. Come, I have a surprise for you. Close your eyes.”

She narrowed them instead and approached him warily. “Am I going to like this surprise?”

“I believe so. It will assist you in paying your forfeit. You must admit, you did turn heads.” He extended his hand to her.

“One head,” she conceded, placing her hand in his.

“One was enough. Close your eyes,” he said, leading her to the door of the music room. Letting her go, he wrapped his hands over her shoulders where the gown ended and her soft, white skin began. He positioned her at the threshold of the door. “Step inside, please. And no peeking.” This close to her all he need do was take a breath and her sweet jasmine scent filled his head.

She giggled, nervous tension flowing through her into him as he guided her into the room, alight with candles that flickered and danced along the walls and spilled from the crystal chandelier.

“Open your eyes, Violet,” he whispered, still clutching her shoulders, not wanting to let go.

Her eyes flew open, blinked, and then her gaze fell on the golden harp, placed beside the spinet. She stiffened, gasped, and raised her hand to grip his.

Then she tore across the polished wood floor to the gleaming instrument, her eyes wide. Mouth agape, she stared at it. Reverently, she lifted her hand to touch the strings, sending a soft discord through the still air.

The hunger in her eyes sent a burst of happiness through him, as if that look had been for him.

Her gaze shifted to him, the longing to run to him transparent on her face.