Chapter 14

Violet muttered to herself as she angrily stabbed her needle through the piece of fabric that stretched over the wooden opal. Her patience with Greyson had frayed and snapped as she took out her frustrations on the tiny, embroidered flowers. The petals were a little wonky, and a few of the stems seemed more like spears, but she didn't care what her mother would say.

She wouldn't have been in this situation in the first place if it hadn't been for her mother's insistence on getting married before she became an old maid.

An old maid at nineteen!

Men certainly had it made. Nobody ever said that a man was too old if he wasn't married by the age of thirty. Her anger only grew as she repeatedly stabbed the needle through the cloth.

Just what exactly is his problem anyway?

She continued to mutter as she shook her head. Everything had been fine at dinner. He had even flirted with her. Yet, his mood had flipped the second she had mentioned their little arrangement and other suitors.

Her hand froze, the needle stuck in a wonky petal.

Was he jealous?

Her stomach fluttered as she thought of Greyson being jealous of other suitors. He had said she was his, but only while their agreement was still in place. He hadn't said or even hinted that he wanted to court her on serious terms. Her head ached as she tried to puzzle out his thinking.

Men were certainly strange creatures, and it was probably for the best that she'd decided never to get married.

The door to the drawing room opened, and the butler stood in the doorway. He tentatively eyed the mess of threads at her feet before clearing his throat.

"I beg your pardon, My Lady, but the Earl of Montclair is at the door. He wishes to see you," he spoke respectfully, with one arm behind his back.

Violet narrowed her eyes as a muscle in her cheek just below her eye began to tick. Was Greyson there to pick another fight with her, or did he have some other nefarious plan to make her swear off men more than she already had?

"Please tell the Earl that I am otherwise occupied and do not have the time to grant him an audience. If he wishes to apologize for his behavior, then he may send a note." She stuck her nose in the air and violently pulled the needle all the way through the bottom of the fabric.

The butler eyed the needle nervously and barely hid a sigh. "I do not mean to upset you any further, My Lady?—"

"I am not upset. I am merely focused on my work," she snapped at him with a sharp glare.

"I apologize, My Lady, I did not wish to be presumptuous and overstep. Lord Montclair said that he thought you might react in this way and that I was to present you with these in that case." He retrieved a bouquet of tiny purple flowers from behind his back and held them out at arm's length, as if he were making a sacrifice.

"Are those violets?" Her breathing eased a little at the unexpected gesture.

"I believe that they are, My Lady." He breathed a sigh of relief when Violet set her needlework to the side.

What is he playing at?

She closed her eyes and shook her head. "Very well, you may show him in."

"At once, My Lady."

The butler seemed to cheer up, and Violet wondered if he too was in love with Greyson like her mother was. Everyone seemed to swoon under his charms, to her great chagrin.

It wasn't long until Greyson appeared in the doorway. "Is it safe to come in?" He shot her a charming smile and held the bouquet beneath his chin.

A giggle bubbled up her throat at the sheepish look on his face. She held back her amusement with all her might. She'd be damned if she'd let him get away with things just like that. Agreement or not, he still needed to apologize.

"I take that as a yes." Greyson strode into the room and placed the flowers on the small table between the sofas.

"What can I help you with this morning, My Lord? Were you looking for another unreasonable spat? If so, may I recommend one of your gentlemen's clubs?" She glowered at him.

"I can see that I am in quite a bit of trouble still." He heaved a sigh and fixed the tails of his coat beneath him on the sofa.

"Trouble? Why on earth would you be in trouble, My Lord? You were the picture of manners and reason last night when we were alone."

Her fake smile felt like victory on her lips. She had spent the night rehearsing what she would say to him if he dared appear again, and she wasn't sorry that she had.

The corner of Greyson's mouth quirked up into a smile that very annoyingly reached her heart and quelled a bit of her rage. "I don't think it's necessary to quibble over who was to blame last night, but if you must hear an apology, then so be it. Violet, I am sorry for my part in the argument last night, and I hope that you will consider calling me Greyson again instead of My Lord. It's very tiring when you do that."

Closing her eyes against the ever-ebbing anger, she bit her lower lip.

This man is going to be the death of me.

No matter how much she tried to steel her heart, she wasn't as immune to his charms as she would have liked.

"Surely the effort I put into finding these violets for you must count for something?" He glanced at the neatly wrapped bouquet on the table.

Her anger gave way to his charms as she melted beneath his gaze. "Did it take you a tremendous amount of effort to buy them at the vendor?" She cocked her head in a challenge and gave a mischievous smile.

The look of relief that crossed his face tugged at her heart. He hadn't really admitted to what he had done wrong, but he wanted her to forgive him, nonetheless.

"I'll have you know that I didn't purchase these flowers from a vendor. These are wildflowers that had to be hand-picked from a field. None of the vendors in London had flowers that even slightly resembled the color of your eyes," Greyson explained triumphantly, with his head held high.

His words caught her off guard, and she sucked in a sharp breath. He had indeed put in a great amount of effort into finding the flowers. Suitors had brought her flowers in the past, but not one of them had ever considered the color of her eyes when choosing the flowers.

"It took me hours to pick all of those tiny flowers!" He swung his arm over the back of the sofa and placed one leg over the other.

"You picked them personally?" She glanced at his clean white breeches and his pristine jacket.

Greyson rolled his eyes with a heavy sigh. "There is no pleasing you, is there? Very well, if you must know, one of the footmen did it for me. But I was there every step of the way! I had to sit in the carriage and watch. It was a very boring few hours."

Violet couldn't help herself anymore, as the mirth she had been suppressing bubbled over. Her laughter filled the air like a tinkling of bells on a summer breeze. She couldn't help but forgive him.

"Very well, you are forgiven," she said when she finally stopped laughing.

His eyes filled with warmth that reached his smile. The more time they spent together, the more she saw a side of him that she considered to be his true self. She desperately wanted to maintain a friendship with him after their arrangement.

"I can see that I came here just in time. Were you thinking of me while you were stabbing that poor piece of material?" Greyson asked, with a curious glance at her feet.

The Persian rug beneath her feet was covered in tiny pieces of thread that resembled the colors of the rainbow. She had snipped, stabbed, and even tied her anger into every last stitch she had sewn since getting out of bed.

"Yes, and you can be grateful that you weren't here," she huffed threateningly and lifted her needlework onto her lap.

"Oh, trust me, I am." He glanced at the crooked flowers on the cloth. "I must say that I am glad I decided to bring you flowers. Perhaps now you can have a reference while you are working." He winced and pulled a face at her handiwork.

"Greyson Stone, is there anything else I can help you with, or are you just here to tease me, now that we are on speaking terms?" She gave him a pointed look but couldn't help the smile that tugged at her lips.

His face softened a little as his eyes glided over her figure. She had chosen a simple blue day dress after deciding to stay in for the day. The way he looked her over caused a flush to spread over her neck. The kiss they had almost shared in their anger was still fresh in her mind.

"As a matter of fact, I came to deliver an invitation—two, actually. Firstly, my mother asked if you would like to accompany us to Hyde Park tomorrow. We will ride the boats and sort of thing. And the second invitation comes from me directly. There is a ball the evening after tomorrow, and I think we should make another public appearance for the sake of our arrangement. What do you say?"

His eyes searched her face as he waited for her response.

Violet felt her stomach flutter again. He was hers until their agreement ended—that is what he had said to her with his lips so close to her own. She knew that she was growing dangerously fond of him, but nothing else could be done about the matter. The agreement was in place, and she needed to see it through.

"I accept both your mother's invitation as well as yours," she replied as gracefully as she could.

She didn't want to seem too eager and let him know that she was secretly relieved by his offer. A part of her had been concerned that he would end things after their argument.

His character still seemed strange to her at times. There was a side of him that seemed far more serious than the cheerful character he presented to the rest of the world. She wondered if his father's passing had anything to do with how guarded he was.

"Wonderful. My mother is very fond of you, by the way. She said that I couldn't have made a better choice. I think she will ask you to be her daughter-in-law even after we end things." He glanced at the flowers on the table. "Did you like the flowers?"

"If you must know, I prefer books. Men often naively assume that all women want are flowers," she teased, with a mischievous glint in her eyes.

Coming to his feet, Greyson picked up the book that lay beside the bouquet. "You were reading this one?" he asked with a frown after opening the cover and leafing through the pages.

"Yes."

She paid close attention to his expression as he read one of the pages. Reading romance novels was one of her guilty pleasures in life.

A cheeky grin spread across his face. "Violet, I must say that you are quite the conundrum." He snapped the book shut and placed it back on the table with a smirk.

"How so?" Violet felt her heart thudding in her chest at the amused look on his face.

"You profess to not believe in romance, yet here you are, reading a book that is clearly steeped in love and the pursuit thereof." He held her gaze for a moment, but then his eyes once again flicked to her chest and the high neckline of her dress.

"Just because I like reading about something that I don't believe in doesn't mean that I secretly think it is real. Did your mother or your nursemaid not make up stories to help you sleep at night?" She arched an eyebrow in question.

"They did," he conceded.

The tender look he was giving her made her lust for him ignite once again. He was dangerously handsome. She needed to end the conversation before either of them decided to make a move that would inevitably land them in trouble.

"I assume you enjoyed them without believing they were real?" she asked triumphantly, feeling as if she had made her point.

Greyson's smile turned into a cheeky grin as he came closer. He placed his hands on the back of the sofa and leaned in closer to whisper, "I did enjoy them, but the only ones that I ever dwelled on were the ones I wished would come true."

His hot breath tickled her neck as a wave of tiny goosebumps spread from the spot behind her ear to the rest of her body.

He eventually straightened and stared down at her. Violet yearned for his touch with a burning desire that caught flame and raced through her body. If her moral upbringing had been any looser, she would have allowed him to act on the heated thoughts she dwelled on late at night.

"I'll see you tomorrow, then," he said almost breathlessly, before taking a step back.

Had he been affected by the moment as intensely as she had been? She noted the fire burning in the depths of his eyes.

"I'll be there." Her voice was breathy and stilted from the lust that crackled between them.

Greyson backed away from her as if he knew of the fire he'd ignited but didn't want to get burned. His eyes swept over her one last time before he turned and left the room.

Bringing a hand up to her chest, Violet tried to slow her heart rate. Her skin was flushed and hot to the touch. She hadn't even realized that her lips had parted with quickened breaths.

The passion she felt was a dangerous force that threatened to burn the world she had known for most of her life.