Chapter 11

CHAPTER11

“Xander?” Violet repeated, her chest rising and falling as she realized she still hadn’t caught her breath, though she wasn’t sure if that was because of her game of shuttlecock, or because she was alone with Xander.

This was more dangerous than last time. They may have been alone, but they were also in a house full of people, where they could be discovered at any moment.

Xander strode toward her. For a second, Violet thought he was coming to her. Her body felt warm, and excitement rippled through her. She closed her eyes, thinking he would kiss her, only to feel the brush of wind as he walked past her.

With her eyes shooting open again, she turned to see him checking the door was firmly closed. He grabbed a nearby chair that had been placed by a harp and jammed it under the door handle.

“Xander?” she whispered once more.

He walked toward her this time, and she backed up, startled at the sheer purpose in such a stride. She collided with a wall, her back and palms flat against the paneling as he stopped in front of her, his hands on the wall on either side of her.

He didn’t touch her, not quite, but his fingers were close enough to her arms that she knew he could touch her at any second. The possibility made her breathless with anticipation.

“Mr. Becker,” he said darkly.

“What about him?”

“You played a game with him.”

“I did.”

“He touched you.”

“He caught me when I nearly fell over,” she murmured. Everything was said in a rush between them as if the words could not escape fast enough. “What about it?”

“I will not share you in our courtship, Vi.”

He was possessive once again. As if they both were thinking the same thing, they looked down at her shoulder, where the mark he had left her with a few days before was beginning to fade, though completely covered up with the shoulder of her dark blue gown.

“I am not yours,” she reminded him. “It is a ruse. Is that not what you wished for?”

“Yes, but for all intents and purposes, you aremine.”

It made her giddy, and her hands itched to take hold of him, to plead with him to kiss her, to show her in what ways he wanted her to be his.

He raised his eyebrows abruptly. “That does not scare you,” he said in surprise. “Not going to run away from me? The Dark Duke? Not going to flee when I tell you that if you’re pretending to be mine, then you are mine?” He leaned toward her, his lips hovering over hers.

She said nothing but parted her lips a little, wanting that kiss.

“Vi, you’re not what the world sees, are you? You have a much more rebellious heart.”

He backed up suddenly, not giving her the kiss that she had been waiting for. She whimpered aloud, and the sound made his smile spread across his cheeks.

“Come to me tonight.”

“What?” she murmured in surprise. “Tonight?”

“Yes. When the ball is over, let us find somewhere alone together.” His eyes roamed over her. “I’ll explain fully what I mean by making you mine.”

“Explain? Or show me?”

His mischievous smile grew greater still.

“That heart of yours has more passion in it than any other knows, does it not?” He turned away from her, walking across the room. “You best get back before anyone realizes you are gone.”

She pushed off the wall, her body trembling a little. It startled her what an effect he could have on her when he didn’t even touch her.

She hurried to the door but didn’t quite move the chair just yet. She glanced back at him. He leaned against the piano, where they had been so entangled the night before, on the precipice of exploring one another further.

“You’ll show me?” she whispered with clear desire.

He nodded, ever so slightly. “I’ll show you anything you wish to know.”

She moved the chair and darted out of the room.

As far as she was concerned, the end of the ball that night could not come quickly enough.

* * *

When the door closed behind Violet, Xander raised his hands and hid his face in his palms.

What the hell is happening to me?

The jealousy was not supposed to happen. He was aware of his possessive nature. It had begun long ago, when he realized the love he thought he had, he actually never had at all.

But, with Violet, this was something different. Mr. Becker had merely stopped her from falling over, yet that touch had felt like a betrayal, as if Xander had been kicked in the gut by the gentleman.

In fact, Xander was tempted to kick Mr. Becker out of his house at once, so he could not have the chance to touch Violet in that way again.

Once Xander had gathered himself, knowing he could not get Mr. Becker out of his house without causing a scene, he left the music room and returned to the tea party.

Now, another group had taken up the shuttlecock equipment. On the lawn was Anthony, playing with two of Violet’s friends, along with some others.

Helena stood calmly at the edge of the terrace, watching. Xander picked up a teacup, moving to join her as he cast a quick glance at Violet. She was now sitting beside her friend, Eleanor, and the two were talking hurriedly, their heads bent toward one another.

“You’re back, I see,” Helena declared, without turning toward him.

“I had to visit the privy,” Xander explained.

“Of course, you did.” Helena still watched their guests play shuttlecock. “I wish you would take care, Xander.”

“Take care? About what?”

At last, she looked away from the game. Her eyes didn’t turn to Xander, but she looked past him and turned to look at Violet’s position across the terrace.

“You look at her as I have never seen you look at another.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Xander.” Helena’s voice was sharp as she moved closer to him, whispering conspiratorially. “Maybe this is some idle fancy of yours, a fleeting interest, just like any other that has been in your life, for your reputation does proceed you.”

“Thank you for the compliment,” he said drily, lifting his teacup to his lips, relieved to find it was now cool enough to drink.

“Yet, that is not who Lady Violet is.” Helena elbowed him sharply in the ribs, so strongly that he actually rubbed the spot, wondering if he would have a bruise. “She is a soft-natured lady.”

That is not the summary of Violet.

Xander knew Violet better than that already. Not only was there passion in her, a need to explore and learn more about the darkest parts of the world, but there was also a fascination for the forbidden. It was something he admired in her greatly.

“You think her heart is liable to break just because she and I have exchanged a few conversations?” Xander actually laughed at the idea. “I do not think Lady Violet’s heart is so meek a thing.”

“I do not remember calling it meek.” Helena scoffed so much at the words that she actually snorted. “You think a heart liable to care is meek? How strange. I’d call it a strong heart.”

He looked at her thoughtfully over the rim of his cup.

“She is staring at you now.” Helena barely moved her lips as she said the words.

Xander slowly turned his head to see Violet was indeed staring straight at him. It was an unashamed look, a bold one, that made him wish to cross the terrace toward her, despite all the people and the gossipers that were still looking at him in wonder.

“You two could start fires with that look.” Helena turned away once more. “All I’m saying, Xander, that whatever game you’re playing here, and as much as I am glad to see you more like your old self again, please, do not treat Lady Violet as if she is something to be played and toyed with.”

Xander had no liking for the words. He fidgeted uncomfortably. As much as he wished to indulge with Violet, he did not see it as toying with her.

“Do not hurt her.” Helena clearly intended this to be the end of their conversation.

She walked away, striding out across the lawn and leaving her teacup with him, as she headed toward Anthony, who was encouraging her to come and play.

Xander couldn’t look at his sister for long. Within a minute, he was sharing another one of those tense gazes with Violet.

* * *

“What do you think?” Grace queried, turning on the spot in the middle of her guest chamber in the Duke’s house.

Violet looked up along with her other two friends.

They were ready for the ball, and out the window of Grace’s room, which offered the best position to watch the road, they had observed many more guests arriving for the Dowager Duchess’s ball this evening. They were merely one of the lucky few who got to stay longer beyond the ball in her house.

“You look quite beautiful,” Violet said as Grace continued to spin. When she tripped on the hem of her gown and abruptly stopped, she huffed loudly, blowing a loose lock of hair out of her face.

“If I do not fall face first in the punch bowl, it will be a miracle. The number of times I have made a fool of myself at balls, it’s a wonder you are all friends with me at all.” Grace hitched the skirt of her gown up a bit, clearly trying to avoid tripping on it again.

“We love you dearly,” Violet assured her. “Who minds if you fall in the punch bowl? We shall join you and have a drink.”

“She is right,” Eleanor added, adjusting the spectacles on her nose. “Though if you can avoid such an incident, please do. You’ll stain that beautiful ivory gown.”

Diana nodded in agreement as Grace huffed, clearly having no great liking for the gown at all.

“Look, look!” Diana spoke suddenly, pointing out the window, and they all turned to look through the glass, with Grace hastening to join them.

“What are we looking at?” Eleanor managed to fog up her glasses by breathing too close to the window and took them off to wipe them clean.

“The Duke,” Violet whispered as her eyes were drawn toward Xander.

He stood on the front step of the house alongside his mother and sister, coolly greeting all his guests.

It was nothing like the heat he had shown her constantly. Now, he could be an ice sculpture, carved and placed beside his family to merely look the part, for he moved so little.

“I do not like this idea of yours, Violet.” Eleanor thrust her glasses back onto her nose and walked away from the window.

Violet’s shoulders hunched as she struggled to tear her gaze away from the Duke. She was beginning to regret her decision to confess to her friends the agreement she had entered into with the Duke. They undoubtedly thought ill of her for it.

“I do not like it either,” Grace called as she too stepped away and hunted out some shoes to wear for the ball. When she nearly fell over the nearest coffer in her attempt, Diana ran toward her, taking her arm to set her straight. “Who knows if you can truly trust the Duke of Barlow? He says this is all to repair his reputation, yes?”

“Yes.” Violet nodded.

“He must truly be mindful then of what people say,” Diana said quietly, returning to the window and peering down again. “Perhaps he is innocent of what people accuse him of.”

“Of course, he’s innocent!” Violet declared loudly, so abruptly that all her friends turned to look at her.

Eleanor’s glower was perhaps the most alarming. She was so startled at the vehemence in Violet’s words that her glasses slid down her nose, and she made no effort to push them back up again.

“I mean… I know him a little now. He is no killer. I know it.”

“Hmm.” Eleanor did not sound convinced. She flopped down into the nearest chair, shaking her head, as Grace sat down beside her and pulled on her shoes. “A false courtship is a mad idea. I can see how this idea of his might improve his own reputation, but what about your own? The ton does not necessarily favor women who have ended courtships. They deem such ladies possibly impure and disloyal.”

“Not all ladies,” Violet said sharply, but Eleanor just continued on.

“It is a risk. Why take such a risk at all for the sake of merely finishing a story that you are struggling to write? You may get to know this man more, but knowing him may also muddy this character you have in your head. You said yourself that they are not one and the same man.”

“I know what I said.” Violet struggled to explain herself. When Diana even looked at her with a pleading stare, her frown deep, she felt desperate. “I cannot stop this. Not now.”

“Why? Because you have already agreed to it?” Eleanor asked with a laugh. “That’s mad! Just tell the Duke of Barlow you have changed your mind and will not be going ahead with the deception.”

“And what about his reputation? What about the story I have written?”

“He has stood people whispering about him a number of years already.” Eleanor shrugged as if it was no great matter, but Violet’s sense of guilt just continued to grow.

She had to do this, for Xander’s sake as much as her own, and for another reason.

“Just tell him you will no longer go ahead with it.”

“I cannot,” Violet told Eleanor firmly.

“Why not?”

“Because… Because I wish to go ahead with it.” It was the best explanation she could offer.

Her friends all looked at her, alarm painted across their faces.

“I mean, I…”

“She wishes to know him.” Diana was the one to finish the sentence.

Violet looked at her, a smile creeping across her face. Diana may have been the quietest one in the group, but at that moment, her voicing her opinion told Violet that perhaps she understood her the most.

“She likes him,” Diana explained.

“Then you may like a monster,” Eleanor said so sharply that Violet shifted on her feet.

“Then perhaps I do.” Violet breathed sharply. Eleanor’s disapproval cut deep, so much so that her eyes pricked with tears, though she held them back. “Maybe this is a mistake, Eleanor, but I have to do it. I have to know him more. Please, can you understand that? We so often do what we are told as a group, do we not? We perform as others expect us to perform. Our reading group is the one thing we do for ourselves. Is there any harm in wanting to do something else to please my own heart?”

Violet’s words fell on deaf ears. For a minute or so, she thought Eleanor had no intention of answering her at all, then, out of nowhere, Eleanor moved to her feet. Her tall figure was commanding as she looked at Violet with much more maturity than her age should have allowed.

“The fact that you want this so much is exactly what worries me. Can’t you see that?”

Violet had no answer for her. She just continued to stare back into Eleanor’s face, noting the lines of worry and the creased brow.

“Girls? Girls!” a high-pitched voice called down the corridor.

Violet looked away and moved to the window. She sat down beside Diana, who laid a hand over hers, a silent gesture of comfort.

The next second, the bedchamber door was opened, and Marianne hurried into the room. She was dressed for the ball, already fluttering a fan in her hand as she had to bend under the doorframe in order not to hit the tall white feathers that had been thrust into her hair on the wood.

“Are you ready?” she called, turning to them all. “Oh, Grace, dear, are you struggling with those shoes?”

“I’m quite fine.” Grace looked down at her shoes with a wrinkled nose despite her words. The laces were somewhat knotted and tangled rather than tied neatly. “Well, I’m likely to fall wherever I go, so what difference will my shoes make?”

She stood and took Eleanor’s arm. They walked out of the room together, whispering animatedly.

“Ah, are you ready, too, Violet, dear?” Marianne called and hurried toward where Violet sat with Diana. “I have to say, what excitement this is. Did you notice how much the Duke of Barlow was looking at you today at the tea party? Oh! Maybe I’ll have a daughter betrothed before the week is out.”

“Mama, please—”

Any note of caution Violet wished to give her mother was lost, as Marianne darted back out of the chamber and into the corridor.

Violet looked at Diana, their hands still interlocked. “Do you think I’m mad? Foolish?”

“No.” Diana shook her head. “I think you have a heart that is in need of excitement and rebellion.”

“Is that a good or a bad thing?”

Diana didn’t answer. She simply pulled Violet to her feet and led her out of the room.