Chapter 10

CHAPTER10

Violet walked into Hyde Park with Xander beside her, but she froze merely a step into the park when she saw the number of eyes that swung toward Xander.

It was as if everyone else were crowds and rooks, turning their black beady eyes to the incomers with suspicion, the same sharpness that could be seen in those birds’ eyes now mirrored in these peoples’ expressions.

“You get used to it,” Xander hissed in her ear as he walked forward. “Come, pretend you are unaffected by it.”

“Is that what you do?” Violet asked, hastening to catch up with him.

Celia followed behind them, though Violet noticed it was at some distance. Apparently, Celia was quite eager not to be the best chaperone in the world.

Xander said nothing, but as they turned from the busy path to a much quieter one, he offered his arm to Violet. She took it gladly, only to find his touch was quite wooden. It was nothing like the heated touches he had given her the night before, when they were alone in his house.

Her fingers curled around the crook of his arm, softening, hoping to remind him of those touches. It must have conjured some feeling, as he glanced at her, his icy blue eyes darkening for a second, before he stared forward again.

“I have a plan,” he whispered to her.

“I see. This is not so much a social outing, then?”

“No, but to put our deception in place for others to see.” He walked on with such a purpose that she had to hurry a little in order to keep up with him and maintain their connection.

She looked up at him, absentmindedly raising her free hand and rubbing the shoulder he had left a mark on the night before. Those warm lips on her skin were a distant memory now.

“As you are to come and stay at my mother’s house for her extended party, I suggest we make the announcement of our courtship there, would you agree?”

“Oh.” Her stomach fipped in surprise.

She had indeed known of the invitation, for her mother had read it out over breakfast with evident delight. Her father, in contrast, busied himself with his good book. When Marianne had talked of having a daughter for a duchess, her father had said how he simply wished Violet liked the Duke before they made any more presumptions.

“Yes, that would be fine,” Violet said, her tone as wooden as his arm was through hers.

There was something that disappointed her about making the announcement so soon. The sooner the announcement was made, the sooner the ruse would be over, and she would part ways with Xander.

“You are not happy about the idea?”

“You read me well.”

“As well, it seems, as I read your work.” He eyed her carefully as they turned paths, ending up beside a narrow river stretch where some of the ton had taken boats out onto the water. “You have painted me as a vicious character.”

“Vicious? Never vicious.” She halted abruptly and tore her arm from his. “If that is what you read, then you have not read it properly at all.”

“Ahem.” Celia cleared her throat behind them, and Violet looked around.

It appeared her sudden sharp tone and releasing of Xander’s arm had drawn the attention of more than one person walking by. They stared at her from beneath their bonnets and top hats, curiosity in their eyes.

Violet’s stomach knotted as she looked at Xander again, finding his expression quite unreadable. Without knowing what to say and not wishing to cause a scene, she took a few steps away toward the edge of the river. She looked out over the water, distracting herself by watching people on the boats. She felt, more than saw, Xander move to her side.

He held the paper-wrapped parcel in front of her eyes a second later. “For you,” he whispered, his voice deep.

“What is this?”

“Another for your collection.”

She took it from him, eyeing him cautiously. There seemed to be no trace of anger on his face. There was only impassivity. It was a far cry from the heated stare he had given her the night before.

She slowly peeled open the paper, tearing her eyes from his and looking at the parcel alone.

“You are not looking at me as you did last night,” she whispered, to ensure neither Celia nor any other passerby could hear her.

He stepped closer toward her. “I can hardly do as I wish in so public a place, Vi.”

His nickname for her made that shiver race up her spine again. His lips were so close to her ear that she thought of the way they had trailed up her neck, teasing her with the promise of kisses.

“If I look at you here as I did last night, people would assume I had bedded you already.”

She snapped her gaze up from the parcel, looking at those icy blue eyes.

Already?

The statement could have meant anything. She could have even interpreted it as meaning he had every intention of bedding her, at some point.

She supposed if she was thinking straight, she would have run away from him, even escaped into one of the boats on the river, but her feet didn’t move. They stayed calmly on the riverbank, and her body’s refusal to move told her what she was feeling. The possibility of being bedded by the Dark Duke was a thrill, not something to fear.

“Open it,” he urged, nodding at the parcel once more.

She opened the paper and revealed a book. The cover was bound in beautiful, soft red leather, and on the cover, embossed in the deepest of black colors, was The Monk.

“Another gothic tale?” she whispered, a smile curling her lips.

It was another of the darker gothic tales, just like Vathek, that she had been cautioned not to read.

“Something tells me you’ll like it,” he whispered, moving so close to stand beside her that their arms brushed. “It explores the idea of the forbidden.”

The way his voice had lowered on the word forbidden made excitement dance in her stomach again.

She looked up at him. “So, at your party, we will announce our courtship?” she asked.

“Yes. I think it is for the best.”

“And?”

“And what?”

“What else could happen?” she whispered, a shuddering breath escaping her.

One of his eyebrows rose as a humored smile took up place across his cheeks. “We shall see,” he whispered, then looked out across the river. “I do not believe in staying away from something we both want, Vi.”

She held the book to her chest, such excitement taking over her now that she found it impossible to concentrate on the boats on the water at all.

* * *

“Xander? Xander! They’re here. Come, come and greet our guests.”

Despite Katherine’s pleas as she passed the open study door, Xander did not move. He sat stock still behind the desk, still looking down at the papers that concerned his tenants back on the country estate.

There were but two people coming to his mother’s party that he wished to see—Anthony and Violet. The other guests he had no doubt would stare and whisper about him, just as the rest of the ton did, and he was hardly in a hurry to see any of them.

He busied himself with writing a reply to his steward’s latest letter as voices drifted toward him through the open door. He could hear how his mother greeted her guests with great warmth.

“Ahem.”

Xander looked up to see his sister in the doorway. Helena raised her eyebrows, looking rather mischievous as she did so, her arms folded and leaning against the doorframe.

“Yes?” he said, looking down at his letter again.

“I thought you were the one eager for our mother to hold one of her parties again. Now you are hiding in here?”

Her words made Xander pause, with his quill high in the air.

I am not hiding.

“I thought the whole point of coming to London was to show you are no longer going to hide from the ton. That you are unaffected by their whispers and their words, that you are—”

“Yes, thank you, Helena.” He dropped the quill on the desk and sat back, but he still made no effort to stand. “When Anthony arrives, I shall come, but otherwise…”

“Very well.” She sighed rather dramatically and turned away. “I thought you might be interested to hear that Lady Violet had arrived, that was all.”

Xander moved to his feet so swiftly that his chair nearly toppled over. He snatched up his tailcoat and pulled it on as he left the room, moving past Helena into the corridor in order to hasten to the entrance. He heard her giggle as he left, but he didn’t rise to her taunt.

I need Violet. Of course, I now have to act the part of the besotted suitor.

He was content for Helena to make her comments and laugh if it helped draw attention to the pair of them as a courting couple.

When he reached the entrance hall, he hovered at the edge of the room, his gaze darting between the myriad of faces that had arrived. He saw people he usually liked to avoid, some people he’d once called friends, though he had no wish to call them as such now. He also saw Anthony, who hurried forward to greet him.

“A merry party this is,” Anthony said, stepping toward him and then lowering his voice to a whisper. “Be warned, there are some writers from the scandal sheets here.”

“Oh? Good.” Xander’s eyes darted to the two ladies in the room whom he thought Anthony was referring to.

“Good?” Anthony repeated in alarm. “Why is that good news?”

“It doesn’t matter.” Xander was not going to explain himself now.

Behind the main group, Violet’s friends had walked into the room. He recognized the group of four from the ball, along with Violet’s sister, Lady Celia, and amongst them, lingering at the back was Violet.

She stepped inside and lifted her chin high, her eyes darting around the room and murmuring in admiration along with her fellow friends.

“If you would excuse me, Anthony,” Xander said, heading across the entrance hall and straight to Violet. As he went, more than one person in the large group turned to watch him, the two ladies who wrote for the scandal sheets included.

When he reached Violet’s side, some of the other ladies stepped away to be greeted by his sister, giving him the space that he needed to approach Violet alone.

“Lady Violet,” he said formally, bowing to her in case anyone overheard them.

“Your Grace.” She curtsied, bowing her head enough to hide her expression.

Stepping forward, he offered his arm to her. Just as before, when they walked in Hyde Park, the way her fingers curled softly around his arm reminded him of what they had shared together already, stolen intimate touches.

He cleared his throat as he led her through the entrance hall, praying it would help him clear his mind, too, though to no avail. All he could think of was what they had done against the piano, the way he had clutched her waist and hips.

He had been so close that evening to introducing her to something more.

“Your Grace—” she began, but he cut her off.

“I have made sure your guest chamber is close to mine,” he whispered in her ear, hoping that anyone watching the pair of them would mistake it for a suitor’s flirtation rather than what it was. An invitation from a possible lover.

Violet looked sharply at him, a crimson blush spreading across her cheeks.

“Do you disapprove?” he whispered, still bending close to her.

She shook her head, her cheeks twitching for a moment in the smallest of smiles.

“Good. I intend to enjoy our deception, Vi.”

“As do I.” Now, she smiled broadly, and he wished it was nighttime already so he could drag her to his bedchamber.

“Ah, now we are all here,” Katherine called, moving onto one of the steps on the staircase so she could look over everyone’s heads to capture their attention. “I have arranged for tea in the garden, along with shuttlecock for anyone who wishes to play. Follow me.”

She happily led the way, and others followed, but as Violet made to move, Xander stiffened his arm a little, holding her back. She waited for him patiently, then they followed the others, leaving a small distance between them.

“I am no longer sure if you are doing this to draw attention to us for your ruse—”

“Our ruse,” he reminded her.

“Or if you enjoy having me alone?” she whispered.

He stopped the pair of them by the open door to the music room, his eyes shifting to the piano. He waited for her to follow his gaze and realize exactly what he was looking at.

“Well, I cannot deny I enjoy having you alone.” He winked at her before they walked on, out to the garden.

When they reached the others, Xander had every intention of spending the whole tea party beside Violet, but it did not work out that way. Anthony engaged him in a conversation about business, and Violet was dragged away by her friends to play shuttlecock.

“Xander? Are you listening to what I am saying?”

“Hmm?” Xander was distracted as he lifted his teacup to his lips and took a sip of scalding tea, burning his tongue. In his distraction, he hadn’t even blown on the hot liquid. He had been too busy staring at Violet as she played shuttlecock.

She played with vigor, and it seemed to be one of the few occasions she forgot to perform and act like a proper, prim lady. Her hair was starting to come out of its updo, for she threw herself with great enthusiasm into each run and dive to hit the shuttlecock with her racket. Her cheeks were flushed so red, it reminded him of that first night outside of the ballroom, under the stars.

“Xander!” Anthony hissed beside him again.

“What?” Xander turned to look at him.

“Maybe now is not the best time to talk business. I shall go and keep your sister company instead.”

“My sister?” Xander now turned his full attention to Anthony, who smiled, clearly knowing this would have caught his attention.

“She sits alone.” Anthony pointed toward Helena, who sat alone at one of the tables on the terrace, drinking her tea. “I shall keep her company, so you can go and talk to who you evidently wish to talk to, for you cannot stop staring at her.” He laughed and then walked away.

Xander merely let his eyes drift back to Violet. She was no longer playing with her friend, Lady Grace, but with a gentleman.

Mr. Patrick Becker, a man that Xander knew merely by sight, was currently playing with Violet. When she slipped on the dewy grass, he caught her around the waist and steadied her. Violet thanked him, blushing as red as she did with Xander, and he let go, bowing to her as if he had done something valiant, indeed.

Xander gripped his teacup so harshly, he felt sure he might snap the handle off it. Jealousy curled in his gut like some sort of writhing adder, the feeling relentless as he watched Mr. Becker follow her around the lawn, picking up the shuttlecock like some sort of attentive pup and handing it to her when she dropped it.

Xander didn’t talk to anyone. He just felt that jealousy grow increasingly worse as he watched them together. Only when the game ended did he move.

He placed the teacup down on the nearest table, and when he was certain that all of Violet’s friends were caught up in talking about the game, replaying points dramatically, he cut behind her, whispering so only she could hear him.

“Meet me in the music room.”

He walked away, uncertain she had even heard him when she made no movement at all. He moved toward the door that led inside and glanced back at her.

She was staring straight at him, that pleasant blush back on her cheeks. The writhing adder in his stomach settled a little, practically wanting to purr when her eyes zeroed in on him, and she blushed because of him.

He crooked his finger toward her subtly, urging her to follow him, then he walked inside before anyone could notice what he had done. He crossed the house, striding toward the music room and slipping inside. He was careful to keep the door open and moved to the piano, lowering the lid over the keys to hide them.

He paced up and down, doubting she would come at all, when he heard the door creak. Halting his movements, he turned to see Violet walking into the room. She let the door swing shut behind her, her eyes finding his.

“You wished to see me, Xander?”

The way she said his name made him want to kiss her, claim her again, but he held himself back. There was something he had to say to her.