Chapter 12

CHAPTER12

Xander circled the ballroom, his eyes flitting between the different people that had gathered. Though some still stared at him, whispering behind raised fans, and some were not even bothering to hide their whispers from him, others were too busy watching the dancers to even notice him walking around. They pointed at the dancers, talking loudly about the couple who might marry next.

“Oh, is that Lady Celia?” one lady cried as Xander passed behind her, listening in on her conversation as she pointed at Violet’s sister. “Well, that lady seems unlikely to choose any one man to marry, does she not? I swear, the lady chooses a different man to dance with every week.”

“Mama,” the younger lady at her side said with a pleading murmur. “There is nothing wrong in that. A dance is hardly a declaration of marriage, is it?”

“I know.” The lady sighed loudly. “Yet, when I was young, a dance was a declaration of interest.”

Xander pondered these words as he walked on, watching Lady Celia and others on the dance floor. Violet was not among them. He looked away, seeking her out, but she was in the same position she had been for most of the night.

She stood in the corner of the room with the rest of her friends, all talking together and sharing drinks and snacks.

“Ho, Xander?” Anthony called, stopping at his side. He had just finished dancing with Helena, and Xander eyed his sister with curiosity as she walked away.

Is it in my mind, or are those two spending more time together than usual?

He didn’t have time to answer his question, as Anthony appeared beside him and clapped him on the back.

“Will we see you dancing tonight?” Anthony asked with a smile and a small sway which suggested he had had some wine this evening. “I cannot remember the last time I saw you dance.”

“That is because I rarely dance.”

“Wait, I do remember.” Anthony suddenly flicked his fingers, and then his jaw slackened. “Ah…”

“Ah… you have remembered, indeed.”

“I’m sorry.” Anthony grimaced. “It was a long time ago, was it not? When you danced with my sister at the announcement of your betrothal.”

“Yes, it was.”

A dull ache started in the pit of Xander’s stomach. It had been a long time since he had thought of that night.

It was the night when he had thought a lasting friendship with Tilly could have someday been something more, though it was not to be. As he asked her to dance, so rare for him that it drew much attention in the room, he had no idea that she had not been thinking of him in the same way. He had no knowledge that her beautiful smile had been just a false one.

She was certainly an excellent actress, I have to give her that.

“Will you at least replace the memory and dance again? Dance with another?” Anthony pleaded. “Dance with someone more… genuine.” He said this with a degree of disdain, showing a certain dislike for the memory of his own sister.

Xander said nothing. He would not be the one to incite Anthony to think even worse of his sister. They were blood, after all, and enough divisions had been caused there. If there was ever the chance of Tilly and Anthony being close again, then Xander knew he had no right to stop them.

“Dance with another, eh?” Xander whispered and looked across the room.

Violet was still standing with her friends, talking with ease and smiling softly. She never smiled quite as fully, though, as she had done with him the night they had been in this house alone.

“She has not danced all night either,” Anthony said swiftly.

“Who?”

“Dear God, a man would need spectacles not to see who you had been staring at.” Anthony laughed deeply. “Lady Violet has not danced with anyone. I believe she has been asked, too, for I have seen men approaching her and her friends. Perhaps she is saving herself to dance with another?” He raised his eyebrows at Xander leadingly.

Well, it would certainly be a good way to develop this ruse, would it not?

Xander smiled a little and walked away from Anthony, leaving his friend chuckling warmly behind him.

Already, things were going to plan. More than one person had noticed how much he and Violet looked at each other. If he danced with her now, when he announced in the coming days that they were courting, all would be as it should.

He purposefully walked through the middle of the room, making sure many people noticed where he was going and who he was approaching. When he reached the group of four, he felt eyes keenly upon him, and not all held Violet’s excited expression.

Lady Eleanor looked sharply through her glasses, Lady Grace nearly dropped her wine glass, and Lady Diana stared at him, her expression unreadable.

“Lady Violet.” He bowed in greeting, and Violet curtsied.

The formality between them felt wrong indeed, but he had to perform for it to be believed.

“Your Grace.” She stood tall, her chest rising and falling with quick breaths.

“You have not danced tonight, I see,” he said in a low voice and then offered her his hand. He said nothing, though the invitation was an implicit one as he raised his eyebrows.

Beside him, he was aware of Lady Eleanor opening her mouth, as if desirous to say something, but one of the other girls must have stepped on her foot or elbowed her into silence, for she winced and closed her mouth again.

Violet smiled and placed her hand in his, allowing him to draw her away.

Wordlessly, he led her toward the dance floor, holding his head high when he saw how many people turned to face them, this time making little to no effort at all to hide their whispers.

As they reached the other dancers, the violinists had finished their previous song and were now waiting for the dancers to change positions. Xander led Violet into the middle of the floor, just as somewhere in the distance he heard a grandfather clock strike midnight. The time for the midnight waltz had come.

He released her, standing opposite her, waiting for the music to begin.

Momentarily, he was transported back years, standing across from Tilly, about to dance with her. Then, he remembered something.

Just before the music had begun, Tilly looked away, staring at something or someone.

He blinked, shifting the memory from his mind.

Violet did not look away. Her eyes stayed on him as the music began, and he offered his hand to her, drawing her forward into his arms. The three-beat music began clearly and slowly, gathering a little pace as the waltz grew faster.

Xander led her around the room, keeping her close. By holding her so near, he was able to turn the pair of them with great ease, dancing smoothly with her. When they were in danger of colliding with another couple, he drew her away, keeping her safe within the confines of his arms.

“Have you been waiting for this dance all night?” he asked her, noting the smile on her face when she realized how he had rescued her from a possible collision. “You have not danced with another.”

“I had no wish to dance with another. Besides… someone told me they did not like it when another touched me.”

That possessive monster curling in his gut raised his ugly head again. His hand curled around her own, and his other hand tightened a little on her waist. It was not harsh, just a little more intimate, and the way she bit her lip in response drove him mad.

“Good,” he replied simply, drawing her in a circle once more around the room.

“Have you enjoyed your evening?” she asked, warily looking at some of the other dancers as they passed. “The whispering, the gossip… Sometimes, it is unkind, indeed.”

“That, it is. It is why I have spent so long in the countryside.”

“Is that the only reason?” she asked, frowning with clear concern. “The country has many beauties. Tell me you have not spent the last few years hiding, Xander.”

Her use of his name somehow made the moment more intimate. He slid his hand across her back and drew her a couple of inches closer to him.

“Tell me you have at least found a way to be happy.”

“At times,” he whispered beneath the cover of the music so no one could hear them talking. “There are many beauties, as you say, in the country. You will find me a fan of the outdoors, someone who prefers a walk to sitting inside and reading intense scripture. My country home is my world, my private world, one I do indeed love.”

Such softness took over her expression that he felt closer to her than ever before.

“And you?”

“Me?” she asked.

“Where is your private world, Violet?”

“Oh…” She paused, looking down at his chest in thought. “I believe I take my world with me wherever I go. I escape into a world of imagination, into a world where anything can happen, any possibility, any dream.”

“Any meeting of two people?” he questioned, turning her so that they occupied the center of the dance floor, swaying from side to side for a minute, looking at no other but her.

“Just so.” She raised her eyes to meet his.

“Is that what you were doing in that story, Vi?” He waited with bated breath for an answer, but she said nothing. “Were you imagining what it would be like to meet me?”

“I…”

He was tempted to kiss her, to show her that this true knowledge of one another should have happened over a year ago, when they had first met.

The tension hovered in the air between them, their fingers curling tight around one another’s. Before he could think to act, to do something inappropriate, the music faded.

They both halted, not quite parting for a second. As others bowed and curtsied, however, they were forced to move. Releasing one another, they bowed and curtsied, not once looking away from each other.

“Follow me in a minute,” he pleaded as he took her hand and led her off the dance floor.

“Follow you? Where?”

“I shall leave and go to my study. Do you know where it is?”

“Yes. Someone pointed it out to me earlier today.”

“Then I shall meet you there. Come soon.”

He released her and bowed to her in parting, then turned away. He knew he had to leave fast. After a dance like that, he was in danger of truly being completely inappropriate and taking hold of her in the middle of the ballroom.

He left the room quickly, slipping out fast and walking down the corridor. It was lit softly, with sconces bearing candles attached to the walls. Their dewy orange light led him further away down the corridor and toward the back of the house, where his study was.

Opening the door wide, he hurried inside and found more candles. He lit them from a tinder box, placing three of them on the mantelpiece over the fire to offer enough light in the room.

He turned to the open doorway, awaiting her, his body so heated that he could not bear to wear his tailcoat any longer. He shrugged it off in annoyance, practically flinging it over the nearest chair to be rid of it.

When footsteps sounded in the corridor, he flicked his head back around to face the doorway.

Violet appeared, her hair glistening in the candlelight, her face turned up toward him. She chewed her lip in that way he was becoming all so familiar with. She inhaled deeply, as if building her own courage, then stepped into the study.

He walked past her as quickly as he could, and just as he had done earlier that day, he dealt with the door. He closed it fast, but, this time, he had the key. Thrusting it into the lock, he turned it and locked the door fast, then he turned back to face Violet.

“What if someone comes?” she said in panic.

“They will not come. They are all too busy enjoying the ball.” He moved back toward her.

She backed up, though hardly quickly, as if she were unsure whether to run away from him or stay exactly where she was. She collided with his desk, her hands going to the very edge, and he reached for her, taking hold of her waist and using it to lift her onto the desk. She gasped, and in that sound of surprise, he took his chance.

Crashing their lips together, he kissed her fiercely, as if no time at all had passed between what they had done on the piano and now. She leaned into him, so much that he could feel the curves of her breasts against his chest.

His fingers splayed across the curve of her back, pulling her toward him still. This time, of her own accord, she spread her knees, creating a space where he could stand and press himself against her.

Already, his length was hardening for her. Such wild images filled his mind, he was in danger of growling into their kiss. He dreamt of bending her over the desk, of lifting her skirts and releasing himself, of entering her with passion and making love to her.

Perhaps he would then satisfy all her curiosity and longing to know him completely. He would show her everything—what he could do to her, how he could kiss her in all her most private parts, how he could make her cry out his name with pleasure.

“Don’t stop,” she pleaded between their fleeting kisses as he took hold of her neck and angled it to the side, kissing down her neck.

I have no intention of stopping.

He kissed the crook of her neck with an open mouth.

“This is what it is to be mine, Vi,” he whispered in her ear, then took her earlobe into his mouth and sucked a little, hearing her inhale in shock and pleasure. “I’ll show you anything you want, do anything you want, as long as… you’re mine.”

For the next month.

Neither of them said the words, though he knew she must have been thinking about it as much as he was.

One of his hands shifted to the skirt of her gown, and he started to draw it up, desperate to reveal her legs and explore her further. Her knees lifted of their own accord, clearly eager to find out more, too.

Then, there was a clunk.

Xander froze, his hand over Violet’s thigh as she leaned her head back from him. He caught sight of her eyes going wide.

“What—”

“The key.” It was a terrified murmur that escaped her lips.

Xander flicked his head around in time to see that the key he’d left in the door was thrust out. It fell to the floorboards, clattering loudly.

Someone was trying to get into the study.