Chapter 15

CHAPTER15

As Xander walked into the breakfast room, the eyes of those attending his mother’s party shifted toward him. For a brief second, only the chink of cutlery could be heard and someone’s intake of breath, then his mother at the head of the table cleared her throat, and it was as if a spell on the room had been broken.

Everyone returned to eating and drinking, with many angling their heads away, talking in low voices as if Xander hadn’t entered the room at all.

Slowly, he moved toward the table, his eyes searching for someone in particular who was not to be found—Violet was missing.

He sat down beside his sister, who strangely had the smallest of smiles on her face.

“Well, I see you enjoyed the ball last night,” she said with such a tone that Xander glared at her. Lifting a teacup, she attempted to hide her smile behind it, though she failed.

“I shall not talk about last night.” He reached for the coffee pot and poured himself a rather large cup.

“No?” This seemed to increase Helena’s amusement all the more. She lowered her cup a little and stared straight at him. “Then you misunderstand. For everyone here is most ready and eager to talk about it.”

He looked over her shoulder to the rest of the table, where he noticed a few curious glances his way before people managed to wrench their gazes away.

“They talk of scandal,” Helena hissed.

“There was no scandal,” Xander lied through gritted teeth. He didn’t bother adding toast or any of the fine breads on the table to his plate but satisfied himself with the coffee alone. “I explained that. I suspect my explanation has also been whispered by everyone here?”

“That, it has.” She nodded in agreement, her smile now fading a little. “Though, do you imagine everyone believes it? After what is said about you?”

“Your smile faded fast,” he observed with a small nod in her direction.

“Well, as amusing as it is, and as pleasing, to hear my brother will try walking down the aisle again—” At her words, he flinched a little. “—I can hardly be overawed by the way you have accomplished it. I just hope that Lady Violet will be happy as your wife.”

Xander kept as impassive a face as he possibly could, lifting the coffee cup to his lips and taking a large gulp.

I’ll be walking down the aisle again.

He could still remember the morning of his wedding day, the day he had refused to go to the church, for he knew there would be no bride there to greet him. He’d sent his steward instead to tell the early arrivers to go home, as he sent urgent messengers to everyone else, warning them not to come and sit in an empty church. There would be no organ music, no confetti, no hymns of celebration, and, most of all, no bride.

Laughter reached Xander’s ears, and his mind snapped away from all thoughts of that church. He looked at the head of the table, where his mother sat smiling. Beside her was Violet’s mother. The two sat close together, deep in conversation, and it didn’t take long for Xander to hazard a guess at their subject.

He heard the words “flowers” and “hymns.”

They are planning the wedding.

Xander’s hand tightened on his teacup. He knew he should have been relieved, even happy that his mother was taking over matters of the wedding. It would mean less for him to do, but something about the sight of the two women planning the wedding made him uneasy.

He saw that empty church again, and this time, he saw himself waiting at the altar for Violet to come. He kept his gaze forward, staring at the altar and the priest as the congregation looked around expectantly, with no bride arriving in the doorway.

“So, you had a fun night?” a voice asked as a hand clapped him on the shoulder.

Xander jumped at both the clap on his shoulder and the words so similar to what Helena had used. He looked around, finding Anthony standing behind him with an amused smile on his lips.

“Interesting choice of words,” Xander muttered.

“Is it?” Anthony looked at Helena, who was still smiling.

“I said precisely the same thing.”

“Ah, well, great minds think alike, and all that.” Anthony sat down on Xander’s other side.

Any other time, Xander might have made a bit more of the way his friend and his sister looked at one another, but not this morning. At this moment, his mind was consumed with other thoughts.

“So, you are to try marriage again? At last!”

“At last? You of all people would say that?” Xander asked, the incredulity in his tone shining through.

“Well, maybe this time the bride will turn up, eh?” Anthony laughed, clearly trying to lighten the mood with the jest, but, for Xander, it only made things worse, and he jerked his head away.

Silence fell over the room again, and Xander looked at the doorway to see it was because his new bride had walked into the room.

Violet stood there completely still, her hands clasped together in front of her, her hair incredibly neat and tidy. It was as if she had made even more effort with her appearance than usual, in an effort not to be thought ill-fit for the room.

Xander’s eyes roamed over her. He looked at those eyes, then the hair that curled temptingly, right down to the flash of skin at her neckline and how her light blue dress hugged her waistline. His skin practically boiled with heat when he thought of the way he had pleasured her the night before. The sounds she had made, those intoxicating moans making his length stir. He shifted in his seat, attempting to become more comfortable.

She didn’t look at him. In fact, he was certain she avoided his gaze altogether as her sister prodded her forward. They took the last two chairs at the breakfast table, with Lady Celia attempting repeatedly to engage her sister in conversation, though it did not work. Violet merely looked at an empty plate in front of her.

“Ahem.” A gentleman further down the table cleared his throat, drawing more than one person’s attention, though not Katherine’s.

Katherine was still eagerly conversing with Violet’s mother to possibly notice one of her guests was attempting to command so much attention.

“It is a pleasure to see you this morning, Lady Violet,” the gentleman spoke smoothly, bestowing what appeared to be a kind smile upon Violet.

“Thank you, Lord Beecham,” Violet said in a polite tone.

Xander saw the forced smile and how it did not last long as she raised a teacup to her lips.

“One wouldn’t have been surprised to find that you and your sister had gone home this morning.” Lord Beecham’s words were like a stone through glass.

Many at the table turned and angled their heads around, their conversations dying on their lips as they looked like eager gossipers in the street to see what Violet’s reaction would be.

Her cheeks blushed red as something in Xander’s gut curled. He glowered at Lord Beecham, seeing that the older gentleman plainly took pleasure in his own words, his smug look growing by the second and the folds of his double chin seeming broader as he breathed in deeply and proudly.

“Why should Lady Violet not show her face this morning?” The words fell from Xander’s lips sharply. “Is there some comment you are trying to make, Lord Beecham? Some comment about my betrothed and me… in my house?”

The reminder of the lack of politeness ruffled many feathers.

Ladies now returned to pretending to eat their breakfasts as some gentlemen gawped and others hastened to refill the cups of the ladies beside them, just so they had the appearance of busyness.

“No, no, not at all.” Lord Beecham’s smug look began to slip away. “I merely meant…”

“Meant what?” Xander continued.

“Nothing. It… it does not matter.” Lord Beecham’s double chin now appeared smaller as he held his head forward and reached for his coffee cup fast.

At Xander’s side, Helena stifled a laugh in her teacup, and Anthony didn’t even bother to hide his smile. Xander looked away to see across the table there was one person who was not so pleased with him.

Violet was staring back at him, but she was not happy with his interference, or his shutting down the gossip. She looked at him with a withering gaze, as if he had done something very wrong, indeed. He held her gaze as he took a sip of coffee, a challenge in his expression, and she did not look away for a long time.

What are you thinking now, Violet? Do you think of what we shared last night? Or do you disapprove of me already?

* * *

“This is insufferable,” Xander muttered beneath his breath.

“What is?” Anthony asked nonchalantly, walking along behind him.

“Don’t be ignorant, Anthony.”

“Oh, I’m not being ignorant. I am just enjoying myself. Forgive me, my friend, but after not seeing you for so long, it’s rather fun to have you back in my life again, and to see you so besotted with another woman already—”

“Besotted!?” Xander whipped around in the garden, with such sudden force that the smile slipped from Anthony’s face, and he stumbled backward, in danger of slipping on the grass with his croquet mallet.

“I am not besotted,” Xander hissed.

“No?” Anthony looked between him and the rest of the group playing their game. “Then why do you find it so unbearable that Violet has chosen another partner to play with?”

Xander didn’t answer. He breathed deeply and then turned away and attempted to return to his game, to focus on trying to win, for that would at least bring him some satisfaction. Yet, it was impossible to concentrate.

Violet was playing with a young man by the name of Mr. Jonathan Garrett. He was handsome, annoyingly so, with fine blonde hair swept back over his forehead and green eyes that seemed to constantly twinkle.

Xander had barely taken notice of the fact Mr. Garrett had been at his mother’s party before, for his focus had always been elsewhere. Seeming as Mr. Garrett had taken far too much notice of Violet so far today, though, Xander couldn’t help noticing him now.

She had not partnered with her sister nor any of her friends in the game, who partnered with one another, but partnered with Mr. Garrett instead, who constantly smiled as he followed her around.

“No man smiles that much all the time. It’s false,” Xander hissed frustratingly as he struck the ball with his mallet. It shot off in one particular direction, though he hadn’t aimed for the hoop at all.

Mr. Garrett was forced to jump out of the way as ladies around him oohed and waved at him in panic. Xander held a hand up in false apology, forcing a smile as if the ball had flown away from him.

“Pah!” Anthony made no effort to hide his laughter. Xander was tempted to hit something else with the mallet instead. “You do know what is going on, do you not?”

“What?” Xander muttered.

“You have made Lady Violet desirable now, by giving her attention.”

“I have not just given her attention.” Xander rounded on his friend. “In case it has slipped you by, I am now to marry her and…” he trailed off, looking past Anthony’s shoulder as he saw Mr. Garrett attempting to help Violet strike the ball, his hand on her own. “What in God’s name does he think he is doing?”

“Touch of envy, my friend?”

“Be quiet.”

“I have no wish to be. I’m having too much fun.”

Xander was about to stalk off toward Violet and Mr. Garrett when Anthony took his shoulder, halting him in his tracks.

“Have a care,” Anthony whispered in a low but serious tone. “She is betrothed to you now. Mr. Garrett is just enjoying a common flirtation. It’s nothing more than that as they play their game.”

Xander shrugged his friend’s grip off his shoulder, glaring at the pair of them again. He couldn’t explain it. Couldn’t fathom the anger and jealousy that whirled inside of him. He knew he shouldn’t care if a gentleman wished to flirt with Violet. After all, he had never intended to marry her, but now, they were to be married.

The mere thought of another turning her head, asking for her hand, persuading her to elopem...

Xander looked at Violet as she appeared to force a smile before she hit the ball. She didn’t once look at him as they played their game, as if he did not exist.

He saw himself standing outside his house, with the stable yard behind him, watching as, this time, Violet packed her bags and reached for a horse.

“I love another. Did you really never suspect it? Not once, Xander?”

It was someone else who had said those words to him, and the thought he might have to hear them all again from Violet, from the woman who had been so fascinated by him enough to write about him, from the woman who had moaned aloud at his touch the night before, the woman he had brought to incredible climactic release…

“It’s your turn.” Anthony’s words jerked Xander back to the moment.

Xander stalked across the lawn, with Anthony following closely behind him. He hit the ball, and this time, he aimed it at the hoop that was between Violet and Mr. Garrett. Once more, the ball landed a little close to Mr. Garrett’s heel, and the man jumped out of the way in such a ridiculous way that he looked rather like an elongated chicken, hopping from side to side with his arms lifted.

Violet didn’t smile, however. Still, she refused to acknowledge Xander’s existence and waited for her partner to take his turn.

“This is insufferable,” Xander murmured.

“Leave it be,” Anthony warned, taking hold of his elbow. “It is just a game of croquet.”

Xander shook Anthony off and walked toward the pair of them. Once more, Mr. Garrett was offering to help Violet make her shot.

“I think I can do it on my own, thank you, Sir.” Violet brushed off the help and swung the mallet. She didn’t look where she was hitting. That or just like Xander, she had something other than winning in mind, for the ball went straight toward Xander’s feet and he was forced to hop over it as he walked toward her.

“I say, Your Grace, your new betrothed has a sentiment she wishes to make clear.” Mr. Garrett laughed as he approached.

Violet blushed a bright shade of red and looked away, still refusing to meet Xander’s gaze.

Can she not look me in the eye after what we shared last night? Am I now so disgusting to her? She didn’t seem disgusted last night…

Xander thought of the way she had gripped the sheets, the moan on her lips, the breathy sound. He felt a sudden desire to drag her into the nearest thicket of trees and lift the skirt of that pale blue gown, to remind her of what pleasure he could bring her.

“Maybe my betrothed and I need to do some talking,” Xander said coolly, putting himself between her and Mr. Garrett, who was now forced to back up a little in surprise.

“We are playing a game,” Violet said, still looking in another direction. “We can talk later, Your Grace.”

“Ah, I see. Is your game with Mr. Garrett more important?” Xander’s question, at last, earned him her gaze. Her eyes flashed in anger as she lifted her chin toward him.

“Perhaps I am giving her a moment’s smile, Your Grace. That is all.”

“And you think you can do that better than any other man, do you?” Xander asked Mr. Garrett, suddenly grateful that they stood at the edge of his lawn at a distance from the other croquet players. He didn’t need any other in the party to hear this conversation if he wanted the gossip to die down.

“Well, I…” Mr. Garrett’s smile at last faded away. He shifted uncomfortably under Xander’s glare, moving his weight between his feet. “We were just enjoying a game, Your Grace.”

“And perhaps I do not need to see my betrothed enjoying a game with every man here today.”

“What did you say?” Violet hissed, but Xander carried on speaking to Mr. Garrett.

“Leave us.”

Mr. Garrett didn’t say another word. He bowed his head in acknowledgment, turned on his heel, and walked toward the rest of the party. Xander’s glare was so strong that he half thought he would burn holes in the back of Mr. Garrett’s tailcoat.

“What did you say?” Violet stepped in front of him. She was certainly looking at him now, without restraint, only there was anger in that look. “What did you mean by that statement, about me enjoying a game with every man here today?”

“You think I will stand by and watch you flirt with every gentleman at my mother’s party?” Xander asked, raising a single eyebrow. “I will not have such a woman for a bride.”

She dropped the mallet. It came so close to his foot that he had to move it aside. Then, she turned on her heel and walked away, but not toward the rest of the party, but to the thicket of woods in the parkland.

The way she flounced off made the guilt curdle in his stomach a second later.

I didn’t mean it like that.