Chapter 26

Greyson's eyes landed on Violet as soon as she entered the hall. His chest constricted with anger and longing. He hadn't sent for her out of fear of how they would react when they saw each other again. He had enough to deal with. He believed with all his heart and soul that there was still a chance his mother could be healed if he just found the right doctor.

Violet swallowed hard and stood just outside the open doors, avoiding his gaze as Stuart walked inside.

Glancing from one to the other, Stuart sighed and walked over to Greyson. "Before you say anything, I didn't know that the two of you had a falling out when I went to fetch her. I thought you would want her at your side." He lowered his voice just enough so that Violet wouldn't hear. "And before you say anything else, consider the fact that your mother is fond of Violet. I would urge you to try and fix things with her, but at least, for now, put your disagreement aside for your mother's sake." He gave him a pleading look.

Swallowing his pride, Greyson glanced up the stairs before looking over his friend's shoulder at Violet, who seemed to be waiting for an invitation to come inside.

He tore his eyes away from her and focused back on his friend. "I have a meeting with a doctor from France this afternoon. Violet may go and sit with her while I am out."

Why did he still feel the need to embrace her? She had hurt him badly, abandoning him just as his father had done.

The worst part of loving someone is realizing that you were a fool all along to have ever had hope.

Stuart's lips curled into a sad smile that didn't reach his eyes. "This isn't the time for me to interfere with any of your decisions. I will leave you to it, then." He placed a hand on Greyson's shoulder before pursing his lips and making his way up the stairs.

Violet's breath hitched as she walked over to Greyson, fiddling with the lavender shawl around her shoulders. "I didn't know if you wanted me to come." Her voice was soft, uncertain.

Allowing his eyes to wander over her damp clothes, Greyson sought the right words. How did one address a woman who had refused his proposal without even knowing that he was going to ask? He would have laughed at the absurdity of the situation if his mother wasn't so gravely ill.

"Greyson, I?—"

"Thank you for coming, Lady Violet. I know that your presence will mean a great deal to my mother." He folded his hands behind his back and regarded her as he would have regarded any other stranger who came into his home.

The hurt in her eyes felt like a punch to his gut. "I am sorry to hear that your mother is so ill. If you don't mind my asking, does she know if…"

She seemed unable to utter the words as tears brimmed in her eyes.

Does she regret ending the courtship?

His heart clenched upon seeing her tears. He hated them. Yet, there was every chance that her reaction had everything to do with his mother and nothing to do with him and their agreement. He wasn't about to allow himself to be misled again.

"I think it best that we do not mention anything about the end of our arrangement. She doesn't know about our conversation, and I would appreciate it if you wait until after she recovers," he spoke stiffly, looking over her shoulder to avoid looking her in the eye.

The urge to back her up against the wall and give in to the desires that still flared despite their disagreement was still too great.

"I see. Forgive my asking, but Stuart made it sound as if there wasn't a chance for recovery. He said that the doctor mentioned how difficult her condition is." She quickly wiped a tear from her cheek.

"I know what the doctor said, but doctors have been known to be wrong. People heal all the time when doctors say they will die. I refuse to believe that there isn't anything that can be done for her," he snapped.

Nobody seemed to be on his side when he refused to accept his mother's fate. He'd go to the ends of the earth to save her, and he knew in his heart that it was possible.

"Greyson, I didn't mean to imply… I only heard this morning."

The apology lingered on the tip of his tongue, but instead he said, "If you will excuse me now, I have an appointment with the doctor."

He made to leave but froze when Violet put her hand on his arm, holding him back.

Noticing the coldness in his gaze, Violet quickly withdrew her hand and took a step back. "I don't mean to discourage you. I just think that you should be at your mother's side. You can always send someone else, like Stuart. He will know what to say and ask."

"I must go. The decision to seek help has been taken out of my hands for too long. I must ensure that the best help is given." He pushed past her and made for the door.

"She's already gone to some of the best doctors," Violet blurted out, just as he reached the open doors.

Turning around, he looked at her in disbelief. "I beg your pardon?"

Violet swallowed hard and let out a shaky breath. "I suspected for quite some time that your mother was ill. She said that her maid needed to see some of the finest doctors for her illness. I only suspected it at the time, but now I am certain that she was talking about herself and not her maid. If that is true, then I think it best you stay with her. She has already done everything she could."

Rage began to build in his chest again as he looked at her, stamping out the final sparks of warmth he'd felt toward her. "You suspected all this time that my mother was ill, and you never said a word?" He shook his head in disbelief, closing his eyes against the pain.

"You must believe me, Greyson. I didn't have enough evidence to justify saying anything. Besides that, not even I believed that she was ill to this extent. I didn't want you to worry. Please believe me," she pleaded, taking a step toward him.

It was true that there hadn't been enough evidence to confirm just how ill the Dowager Countess was. Greyson, too, had suspected something was wrong, but he'd been so consumed by his arrangement with Violet that he hadn't paid more attention. He wasn't sure what he would have done in her position, but he certainly wouldn't have kept quiet for so long.

"You're just like the rest," he uttered coldly and then turned to leave, stepping out into the rain.

* * *

What did he mean I am just like the rest?

Violet's chest ached in a thousand ways that she had never thought were possible. The look of hurt and betrayal in his eyes had shattered any hopes of rekindling the love she now knew she harbored for him.

He hates me.

The air stung her lungs as she struggled to breathe, turning toward the stairs as his carriage pulled away. Running after him now would only result in another argument.

She wiped away her tears and began to climb the stairs, taking her time to compose herself before reaching the landing and making her way toward Christina's room.

"Please, please, let Greyson be right in thinking that there is a chance," she prayed before turning the door handle.

The room was dimly lit, with the drapes drawn over the windows. A sliver of light filtered through the heavy fabric, allowing Violet to see the figure beneath the blankets in the center of the bed. The heavy scent of herbs hung in the air like a fog of hope—the final attempt to help a dying old woman.

The short walk to the side of the bed seemed like an eternity, burning the soles of her feet. Her chest felt raw as she gazed at the Dowager Countess's ashen face and heard the shallow breaths that escaped her cracked lips.

Violet noted the many bottles of sticky fluid beside the bed.

How did we not see how sick she was?

She asked herself the dreaded question for the hundredth time, feeling as if they had all been blind. Christina Stone was sicker than anyone could have imagined.

"My Lady," Violet whispered.

Tears rolled freely down her cheeks as she sank into the chair beside the bed. The realization that the doctors were more than likely right washed over her like a tidal wave.

"How many times do I have to ask you to call me Christina before you listen?" The Dowager Countess's head lulled to the side with great effort as she opened her eyes and smiled at Violet. One corner of her mouth stayed where it was, as if it had been fixed in place.

"I didn't mean to wake you," Violet mumbled, as if she were too afraid that raising her voice would make the old woman vanish.

Christina attempted to shake her head, holding out her hand for Violet to take. "I was only resting. The strange thing about dying is that everyone wants to swaddle me in bed, when I should be seated in the gardens. I'd give anything to smell the flowers and gaze upon them one final time."

Hearing her speak so peacefully about her passing caused a maelstrom of emotions to surge in Violet's chest. Greyson should have been there at his mother's side, holding her hand and spending every moment he could with her.

Violet sat on the bed and took the Dowager Countess's frail hand in her own.

"Please don't cry. Although I love the beautiful shades of light purple in your eyes, I don't want to see you cry." Christina tried her best to clasp Violet's hand, but she didn't have enough strength.

"Don't worry about me, I will be fine. I just don't want to lose you so soon. There is so much I want to say to you. So much that I regret…"

The skin on Christina's hand felt so thin and frail that Violet was afraid she'd rip it if she held it too tight.

"What regrets could such a young person have?" Christina attempted a smile again, her chest heaving when as she breathed.

Violet closed her eyes, swallowing past the lump in her throat. "I wasn't always honest with you."

Christina gave her a pitying look and mustered up enough strength to squeeze her hand. "You haven't been lying to anyone, my dearest Violet. You have been in love with Greyson, and he had been in love with you. I think I know what it is that you wanted to say, but there is no need. I know that you and Greyson will be happy. I know that the day when he'll ask you to be his wife will come sooner rather than lat—" She gasped suddenly.

"Please don't say anything else, just rest now. Greyson will be here soon. He's gone to see another doctor," Violet pleaded, beginning to panic as Christina's face paled even further.

What would happen if Greyson didn't get back in time?

"Greyson is on his own mission. You need to help him accept my passing. I've done all I can to prepare him, even if it seems like I kept the truth from him for too long. He would never have met you if I had told him the truth too soon." Christina's eyelids began to flutter shut.

"I promise that I will do all I can," Violet vowed, knowing that there was a chance that Greyson wouldn't want her around once his mother passed.

Christina's eyes remained closed for what seemed like forever, before she took another raspy breath. Her matted blonde hair was streaked with more grey than Violet had noticed before.

She opened her eyes again and lifted a hand, pointing to the dresser across the room. "There are two letters over there. One is for you, and one is for Greyson." She lowered her hand to the bed with great effort.

Tears streamed down Violet's face, falling onto the bed beside Christina as the old woman drifted off to a fitful sleep. The energy she had spent speaking to Violet had clearly taken a toll on her.

Violet cried as quietly as she could, trying her best not to make a sound as she reached up and brushed the hair from Christina's face.

What had she meant when she said that she knew what Violet was going to say? Greyson had told her that his mother didn't know about their arrangement or the fact that she had ended things. His mother also thought that he was in love with Violet.

Violet felt like an utter fraud, sitting at a dying woman's side and pretending to be a good person. She had spent far too much time lying when she could have been honest.

Thunder crackled outside, causing Christina to stir in her sleep. Breathing seemed to be a great struggle for her, and it struck Violet as cruel that life could end so quickly for someone so pure as Christina.

It wasn't fair that she had lied but kept her life, yet Greyson's mother had to endure so much.

She gently tucked the old woman's hand beneath the covers. Every breath seemed like a final attempt to cling to the life that was quickly leaving her body.

Please hurry back before it's too late.