Chapter 21

Chapter Twenty-One

V iolet peered at her reflection in the mirror the next morning and was not at all impressed by what she saw. Her gown hung loosely off her shoulders, hiding her body to the point that she appeared almost shapeless. The pleasing shade of green that it had once been had faded to the color of murky pond water while the frayed cuff on her right arm gave the illusion that she either didn’t care how she looked or couldn’t afford to freshen her wardrobe.

The fact that neither was true hardly mattered.

Looks could be deceiving.

Or they could be telling.

Her sister and her husband had tried to tell her how dull her wardrobe made her appear, and she’d unfairly snapped at them both. She’d been going through the motions for so long, she’d stopped caring how much of her vibrancy had been lost. Or how much she’d changed. The intolerable way she’d allowed herself to be diminished by Basil’s faithlessness stopped now.

Attempting to bring some color to her pale skin, she pinched her cheeks, but the touch of pink it yielded was not much of an improvement. She might never be a beauty, but her current blandness was unacceptable. The fact that her appearance so often matched her mood was equally deplorable.

She had let Basil win for too long, and because she had, she hadn’t appreciated herself like she deserved. In turn, she hadn’t made the effort to appreciate Edward as he deserved. She wasn’t sure exactly how she was going to fix the damage she’d caused, but she knew where she was going to start.

With herself.

She stripped her gown off and dropped it at her feet. Her chemise was not in better condition than her gown, so she added it to the growing pile on the floor. When she was bare, she stood shivering in the cool air as she studied her reflection again.

Her paleness was somehow less offensive when it wasn’t being leached away by the dull fabric of her gown. Reaching up, she released the pins that held her hair in a tight knot at her nape, and it tumbled around her shoulders, loose and heavy. The lack of color in her skin made the red of her hair seem even more vibrant than usual, and now that her slight curves were visible, she looked more like a woman than a shapeless log.

It was possible that she was more attractive without a gown than with.

Not that walking about unclothed was an option.

She stifled an annoyed chuckle at herself and pulled open the doors of the wardrobe. Except for her wedding gown tucked carefully at the far end, she was met with nothing but shabby, ill-fitting dresses. They would be slightly more acceptable looking if she’d taken the time to alter them after her appetite had waned, or if she hadn’t allowed her broken heart to take her desire for food in the first place. Since she’d done neither, she straightened her shoulders, reminded herself that it was too late to change the past and that it was definitely not the time to lament the way she’d handled her emotional state.

Instead, it was time to reinvent herself.

Or perhaps, to be more accurate, rediscover herself.

So she could be what her sister needed. And what her husband needed.

Because they had certainly been what she had needed.

The urge to toss her old gowns into the pile on the floor was strong, but she required something to wear, and she would not put on her wedding gown again until Isabelle had an equally appealing option, so Violet pulled the least tattered of her remaining gowns out of the wardrobe, put it on, and then styled her hair in a loose braid before marching out of the room.

Finding Isabelle still in her bedchamber, Violet directed her straight out of the house and into the waiting carriage. “We need to refresh our wardrobes,” she said, as soon as they were on their way.

Isabelle blinked, her eyes wide with surprise. “What?”

“Our gowns are horrid. They’re faded. Threadbare. Ill-fitting.”

“I’m aware. But you’ve been adamant that we didn’t require anything new for so long that…” She shrugged instead of finishing the sentence.

Shame flooded Violet.

Swallowing thickly, she stared out the window and said, “I overheard you with Edward yesterday.”

“You were eavesdropping?” Isabelle’s voice rose with each word.

“I know I shouldn’t have, but you sounded distressed, and I couldn’t help myself.” She abruptly turned away from the window and asked, “You were—why didn’t you tell me ?”

It hurt to think about why Isabelle hadn’t come to her, and it was going to hurt to talk about, too, but Isabelle was her sister, and Violet had always felt responsible for making sure she was happy.

“We’ve talked about the state of our wardrobes half a dozen times over the last year, and you’ve always been dismissive, so I didn’t want to make more of a fuss than I already had. As for the rest, I guess I was in a mood. Sometimes…it’s hard not to compare myself to others,” Isabelle added quietly. “The past year has been difficult, and the last thing you need now that you finally have a bit of peace is to deal with me and my ridiculous dissatisfaction.”

Tears welled in Violet’s eyes. “You’re my sister.”

“It’s just…you’re finally happy again.”

“I want you to be happy too,” Violet responded forcefully. “And I want you to feel beautiful. The fact that I failed to notice you were struggling is difficult for me to come to terms with. I grappled all afternoon yesterday and again this morning with the things I overheard, and I couldn’t determine how to fix things for you, but I want to try.”

“You don’t need to fix anything, and you certainly didn’t fail me,” Isabelle said, delicately wiping her eyes with her gloved fingertips.

“I ignored you every time you tried to talk to me about our gowns, and I’ve been so self-absorbed that you took your worries about your future to my husband instead of me.”

“You aren’t self-absorbed,” Isabelle said fiercely. “And I didn’t mean to tell Edward instead of you. He asked how I was doing, and it just kind of spilled out.”

“I have been self-absorbed. I didn’t even notice you were sad.” Violet held up her hand to stop Isabelle from refuting her again. “You know I was singularly focused on avoiding marriage to Basil for months. And lately, I’ve been spending so much of my time with Edward.”

“You’re newlyweds.”

“But you’re my sister,” Violet repeated. “And I neglected you. Assumed you wanted to spend time with Edward’s family?—”

“I do. I adore Edward’s family. They’ve been most welcoming.” Isabelle sighed. “You know I wanted you to marry Edward from the beginning, but there have been many changes in a short time. Good changes, obviously. But now, occasionally, I feel overlooked, like I’ve been left behind. It isn’t your fault. Or their fault. Or my fault. In the grand scheme, it’s probably not even worth mentioning. When Edward asked, I should have told him I was fine. Because I am fine. I was simply feeling a bit sorry for myself yesterday.”

“You don’t have to pretend you’re happy when you’re not.”

“I’m not pretending. I am happy.”

“But if you’re not, you can tell me. Anytime.” She paused, and then added, “Only if you want to though.”

“I know. I didn’t intend to keep my feelings from you, and if there had been something I thought you could do to help, I would have talked to you.”

“You’re being too kind. There was something I could have done. I could have taken you shopping weeks ago and helped you select so many gowns that you would have a difficult time deciding what to wear instead of allowing you to feel shabby and unfashionable.”

Isabelle nudged Violet’s slipper with her own, waiting until Violet looked at her to say, “It’s never too late. That is what we’re doing now, isn’t it?”

“It is. But I should have done it sooner.” Violet frowned and then let herself smile a little when Isabelle nudged her again. “I’m sorry.”

Isabelle waved her apology away. “I love you,” she said. “And you’re my favorite sister.”

Violet relaxed a bit, rolling her eyes. “I’m your only sister, but I love you too.”

“Now that we have thoroughly discussed my emotional state, let’s talk gowns. Are we going to Madame Jolie’s?”

“Madame Jolie?”

“She makes all the gowns for Edward’s family.” At Violet’s blank look, Isabelle added, “She made your wedding gown.”

“Really?” Violet had a vague recollection of being measured in Belinda’s bedchamber, but the details were hazy. The only thing that she truly knew was—“My wedding gown is gorgeous.”

Isabelle smiled. “I’m aware.”

“Then let’s go see Madame Jolie.” Violet knocked on the roof and informed the coachman of their change of plans.

When they arrived at the modiste, a shopgirl surveyed them from head to toe and said, “I am sorry. Madame Jolie is far too busy today.”

Isabelle’s shoulders dropped. “Oh. Could we…uh…schedule an appointment for another day?”

“I’m sorry. There are no appointments available.” The shopgirl dismissed them with a flick of her wrist and started to turn away, but Violet stepped forward and said, “Lady Greydon had?—”

“Lady Greydon?” The shopgirl echoed, turning back and giving them her full attention.

Gratified, Violet raised her brow and with more authority said, “Lady Greydon had my wedding gown designed by Madame Jolie.”

“Oh.” The shopgirl’s eyes widened further.

Violet gestured at the gown she was currently wearing. “As you can tell, my wedding gown is the only gown I own that is suitable now that I have married Lord Greydon’s brother. I was hoping to commission a new wardrobe for myself and my sister, but?—”

The shopgirl squeaked and grabbed them both by the forearms. “I apologize. Madame Jolie always has time for friends of Lady Greydon. I’ll get you settled, and then you can explain to Madame what you require.” She shuffled backwards and towed them through the shop and into the fitting area beyond the curtain.

The next few hours were spent in a flurry of fabrics, measurements, and discussion. Madame Jolie knew the precise style to flatter every body type, and she refused to let them leave until they had selected the most suitable colors and styles.

“When I am finished, you will dazzle,” the modiste said more than once. Her certainty was more than a little overpowering. Violet wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to dazzle, but Isabelle practically glowed every time she said it, and Violet felt a rush of gratitude for the older woman’s expertise.

Building her sister’s confidence might not happen immediately, but Violet was determined that it would happen eventually.

If only figuring out her relationship with Edward was that simple. Somehow, she had to figure out how to explain to him that he might have been right.

Maybe she wanted his affection.

And maybe she could offer hers in return.

But how could she find the strength to risk telling him how she felt?

As the carriage trundled away from the modiste, thinking about it consumed her. Luckily, Isabelle didn’t seem interested in conversing. Resting her head against the side of the carriage, she stared into the rainy afternoon, and at some point, her eyes slid shut and her breathing steadied. She was fully asleep when the carriage came to a halt in front of the townhouse, and Violet coaxed her awake with a few murmured words and a gentle tap on her shoulder.

Isabelle smiled softly as she blinked away sleep, then said, “thank you,” and climbed out of the carriage.

A footman held a large umbrella aloft, and Isabelle quickly shuffled underneath it to avoid getting soaked by the heavy rain. Violet probably could have crowded under the umbrella with her, but it was easier for the footman to escort one person to the door than two, so she waved him away and waited patiently for him to return.

Once he was back, she reached for his outstretched hand and smoothly slipped out of the carriage. Because of the rain and the shadow cast by the umbrella, it took her a second to realize she wasn’t alone. Her heart swelled with anticipation when she registered the shiny boots standing opposite her. What better place to tell Edward she had been wrong than under an umbrella in the rain?

She raised her gaze and came face-to-face with…her former betrothed.

“Basil.” She blinked and then blinked again, but the grinning man before her did not vanish. “What are you doing here?” she demanded, more than a little off-balance at his sudden appearance.

“I wanted to assure myself that you were well,” he responded evenly, tipping his hat so his inscrutable gaze could dart up and down. Whatever he saw had him shaking his head slightly as he returned his attention to her face.

“I’m quite well,” she said. “But I feel as if I ought to remind you that I am no longer your responsibility, and I do not require you to check up on me.”

He nodded but didn’t seem convinced. “Perhaps you could invite me in for tea, and we could have a little chat?”

“Absolutely not.” She had no interest in socializing. Nor engaging in small talk. The only thing she wanted was for Basil to leave her alone.

“Ah. You’re still angry.” He pursed his lips. “A walk then?”

Not waiting for a response, he turned slightly and shooed the footman away, taking the umbrella himself. Before he could attempt to usher her down the street, she snatched it from his grasp and tried to skirt around him, but he shifted to block her from approaching the house.

“Violet, please,” he murmured quietly. “Just allow me a couple of minutes to ease my mind and my conscience.”

“I have no obligation to ease either your mind or your conscience.” His nerve continued to astound her. Why must he intrude now? Why wouldn’t he leave her alone?

“I know. But your father?—”

She sighed. “Fine.” It was easier to agree than to argue, and his loyalty to her father was genuine, even if nothing else about him was. “We can walk down the street and back, but you better assuage your guilt quickly, because once we return, I’m going inside.”

“Thank you.” He fell into step next to her as they made their way down the wet sidewalk. Thankfully, he didn’t try to take the umbrella away from her. Nor did he crowd into her space.

“Well,” she prompted, after they’d taken several steps.

“I wanted to apologize?—”

“I do not accept your apology,” she interjected, but he was not thwarted by the interruption. Or the rejection.

“—for lying to you.”

She gritted her teeth. “I don’t care that you love someone else. Not anymore.”

“Oh.” His gaze flicked away. “That isn’t what I was referring to.”

“You lied to me about something other than where your affection lies?”

“I know you don’t believe me, but I wasn’t lying about my feelings for you. And I didn’t lie about my feelings for her either.” He winced. “I suppose it doesn’t matter any longer, but I was referring to your inheritance. It was wrong of me to use it to manipulate you, and I’ve felt awful about it since you told me you married another man.”

“Manipulate me?” she asked slowly, her indignation about his paramour temporarily forgotten.

“Your wealth would have made you a target, but if I’d known you would marry someone else just to escape me, I would have told you the truth.” He paused, hunching his shoulders a bit. “I should have told you the truth anyway. The means do not justify the end, and I’ll never forgive myself if—is your husband mistreating you?”

“Of course not,” she mumbled, as she tried to comprehend what exactly Basil had lied about in relation to her inheritance. The money her father had left was substantial, and it was intact. “I’m afraid I’m confused.”

“The money was already yours,” he whispered, barely louder than the rain. “You didn’t have to marry to access the funds, and I’ll never forgive myself for lying about it. If you’re being mistreated, I don’t know what I’ll do, but somehow, I’ll figure out a way to protect you.”

Clarity came, and with it, a burst of anger. “I didn’t have to marry?”

“I’m quite sorry.”

She didn’t have to marry.

She let the words settle. Tried to comprehend how she felt about them.

It was surprisingly easy.

Not having to marry should have infuriated her, but that particular lie had yielded a husband she liked. A husband she trusted. A husband she loved.

Loved?

She came to an abrupt halt and turned to face Basil.

“Thank you,” she said, her voice high and sharp. His mouth dropped open, but fortunately there were no other people on the street to gape at her. “Edward is everything I could want in a husband. He is kind. He is patient. He is passionate. Being his wife has restored my faith in myself and has allowed me to find happiness.”

“I see.” Basil exhaled shakily. “Your marriage is…a blessing then.” He ran his hand down his face. “I’m so relieved. I haven’t been able to shake my worry. I was concerned Edward hadn’t explained my lies. Or that he wasn’t allowing you to access the money. It’s been weighing on me since I left, and then when I saw you exit the carriage in one of your old gowns, I assumed the worst.”

Hadn’t explained?

She stilled, barely hearing the rest of his words. “Edward knows the truth about my inheritance?”

Basil reached out and gripped her forearm urgently. “Of course. Forgive me, but I had to tell him. I didn’t want him to have the wrong idea about me.”

“He knows we didn’t have to marry?” she clarified.

“Yes—”

She spun around before Basil could continue, dropping the umbrella as she hitched up her skirts and sprinted toward the townhouse.

Bursting through the front door, dripping water everywhere, she tore into the entryway. “Edward,” she shouted, worry threading its way into her voice.

Her husband had already blamed himself for not uncovering Basil’s lies before they had married, and the possibility that he felt guilty for his complicity in this was high. She would not allow it to continue for another moment. She didn’t want him to entertain the thought that she could be happier without him.

“Edward,” she repeated, yelling again as she undid her pelisse and allowed it to slide to the ground.

“He’s upstairs,” the housekeeper said, appearing in the hallway with a frown on her face, Isabelle peeking over her shoulder.

“Thank you.” Violet raced up the steps and had just reached the landing, when the door at the end of the hallway flew open and Edward appeared. She barreled into him, knocking him backward into the room she’d suggested just last evening that he might turn into a studio for his art. “I spoke to Basil, and?—”

His eyes widened. “—you did? I’m so sorry. I know that I promised I would always be truthful, and I was going to tell you, but the time never seemed quite right?—”

“—it doesn’t matter.”

“—and I didn’t want you to regret our marriage.”

Silence fell. She pushed the sopping wet hair that had escaped her braid out of her eyes so she could see him clearly. “Regret our marriage?”

“You could have been free, and now you’re stuck with me forever. I thought…I wanted to give you—” He shook his head. “I thought that perhaps with enough time you would come to care for me. But…I know I should have told you immediately. An omission is almost as bad as a lie, and I feel awful that I didn’t tell you straight away.”

“How long have you known?” she asked. It hadn’t occurred to her to consider when Basil had told him, only that he had.

His gaze dropped to the floor. “He informed me the morning after our wedding. I was going to tell you once we were alone, but?—”

“You were too busy listening to me prattle on about how I would never feel affection for you.”

“You were already upset, and I didn’t want to make it worse,” he whispered.

A sound escaped her throat.

A whimper.

And then a sob.

Bloody hell, she was crying.

It was useless to try to stop once she had started.

For so many months, she had carefully held herself together, and all the sadness and despair from that time merged with the joy and happiness she’d experienced since marrying Edward to create an emotional explosion unlike any she’d ever experienced.

Without hesitation, he pulled her into his arms and cradled her against his chest. Being wrapped in his warmth was soothing, and although continuing to sob into his shoulder made her feel ridiculous, he didn’t seem to find it disconcerting. He didn’t try to halt her tears. Nor did he make her feel foolish about them.

Instead, he murmured quiet words, his breath stirring her hair. It was difficult to understand what he was saying, but she took reassurance from the steady rumble of his voice, and when the sobbing finally dissipated, she continued clinging to him, unwilling to break their connection. He kissed her forehead, and she realized that he had consoled her without fully understanding why she was crying. He probably thought she was lamenting their marriage, and yet he had offered comfort anyway.

How had she gotten so lucky?

“You were right.” Her voice was scratchy and hoarse, but her words were clear.

He froze, his lips against her forehead. “About?”

“Me.” She took a shallow breath. “Us. The life we can build together. I didn’t just marry you to escape Basil. His lies might have been the catalyst, but they quickly became irrelevant. I’ve never met anyone like you, and you intrigued me from the start. I want you even more now that I know you. I want your compliments and your affection. I was wrong when I told you I couldn’t accept those things from you, because I was too scared to acknowledge the truth.”

She started to ramble, words slipping out almost faster than she could process them. “I want your body wrapped around me at night and your hand in mine during the day. I want to let you into my heart, and not just because you’ve found your way into mine.” An errant tear slid down her cheek. “Being your wife has reminded me of who I am and who I want to be. When we met, I was hurt and afraid, and to protect my heart, I told myself that I didn’t want affection. I didn’t want to care for you, so I told you I wouldn’t and…I’m so sorry.”

“Violet.” His fingers pressed against her lips, halting her words. “You don’t owe me an apology.”

“I do,” she whispered into his fingers. “I said horrible things to you.”

“You did not.” He sounded disgruntled.

She pulled away so she could look him in the eye. “Do not make excuses for me. I was cavalier with your feelings. And my own.”

“I have no regrets. I’d marry you again tomorrow.”

“You would?”

He looked directly into her eyes, his expression more earnest than ever before. “My mother once told me that love is a lightning bolt. It strikes where it wants. When it wants. And after it has struck, it cannot be undone. It sounded like nonsense to me at the time, especially coming from her.”

“You never talk about your mother.”

“Our relationship is…fraught. If you ever meet her, you’ll understand.”

“But now you think she’s right?” she asked.

“Maybe. Maybe not. The point is…you were it for me from the moment you stepped into my bedchamber at the cottage. I didn’t see it for what it was. At first, I thought I simply wanted to help. And then after you kissed me, I thought it was only lust. But now I know, it was more all along.”

“I have not been very pleasant to you,” she replied. “At least not out of the bedchamber.”

He chuckled softly. “Your brusqueness doesn’t bother me. If anything, it challenges me. I don’t require you to be incessantly cheerful.” He bit his lip. “Our personalities provide balance between us.”

Her heart felt lighter than it had. “Because you are incessantly cheerful?”

“Because I’m not deterred by your reserve, and I want to give you reasons to smile.”

She couldn’t help smiling now. “You already do.”

“Does that mean you forgive me for not telling you about what Basil did?”

“There is nothing to forgive. You made the right decision. I probably would have overreacted if you’d told me that morning.”

It looked like he wanted to argue, but after a moment, he slowly nodded. “What happened yesterday?”

“Oh…well, I overheard you and Isabelle talking.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

She tipped her head back, focusing on the ceiling. “I was upset. My emotions were already tangled up in you, and when I heard Isabelle, everything came tumbling down.”

“If you overheard us, then you know why Isabelle was upset, and that I was able to lessen her burden.”

She swallowed. “You were perfect with her. You always to seem to know what I say.”

“Not always. I’ve bungled things with you more than once.”

“You really haven’t.”

“It sure feels as if I have.”

“That’s because I’m contrary. I don’t mean to be, but sometimes I cannot help it.” She glanced down at the puddle that had developed below her. “I want to continue this conversation, but I need to get out of this wet gown. What would you say if I suggested we adjourn to our bedchamber?”

“I’d say, lead the way.”

He followed her out of the room, but before they could enter their bedchamber, they were waylaid by Isabelle, who had been waiting at the top of the stairs.

“Basil is here,” she whisper-shouted.

Violet halted. “He followed me inside?”

“He sure did. Mrs. Swanson offered tea, but he declined. Said he couldn’t stay long. He’s standing in the entry waiting for—” She shrugged helplessly.

“I should tell him to go. That all is well.” She sighed. “That I absolve him of any wrongdoing.”

“I could tell him for you,” Isabelle said.

“He won’t listen. For some reason he’s got it in his head that Edward isn’t treating me kindly, and I think he needs to see for himself that I’m not being mistreated.”

“He what?” Edward and Isabelle said at the same time.

“You know he’s awful at listening. Once he gets something in his head, nothing I say will convince him otherwise, but if he sees us together, he might believe me.”

“Then we should all go,” Edward said firmly.

They traipsed down the steps together, and Basil’s head snapped up when he heard them enter the room.

“You ran away,” he accused.

“You gave my husband the burden of your lies,” Violet replied.

“I’m sorry.” He dropped his head. “I never get anything right with you.”

“You don’t need to. Not anymore.” She reached out and took Edward’s hand. “You say you want me to be happy, so let me be happy .”

He glanced at their entwined fingers, and then moved his gaze to Edward. “Sorry about that morning. I was still a bit sore about being jilted, but I didn’t have to be an arse about it.”

“Apology accepted,” Edward responded. He seemed unable to hold a grudge, even when it was deserved.

Basil pointed over his shoulder. “I’ll just…eh…show myself out.” He backed away and then paused. “I truly am sorry for the lies I told you.”

She nodded, and they all watched him exit the house and pull the door closed behind him.

“I didn’t think he had it in him to apologize,” Isabelle said. “Since the excitement is over, I’m going to go to the kitchen to have a nibble.” She slipped into the hallway and disappeared from view.

“Come back upstairs with me?” Violet asked Edward.

“Of course.” He followed her, closed the bedchamber door behind him, and tugged her into his arms. “Let me,” he whispered into her ear, as he began dragging her gown up her body.

For the first time, she didn’t feel the need to take over. To strip him first. Controlling their lovemaking had been a way for her to be certain that she didn’t surrender to the emotions physical pleasure could evoke. Now that she could allow those emotions free rein, she was able to enjoy the way he slowly removed her wet garments.

Trailing kisses over the skin he bared and letting his fingers drag over her cool flesh, he explored her body in a way he never had before. With worship.

And affection.

“I love you,” she whispered.

His fingers stilled, and his breath feathered across her collarbone. “You don’t…” He made a noise that sounded almost like a chuckle into her neck. “You’re sure?”

“Of course I’m sure. I’d never say it if I wasn’t.”

She felt him nod, his head burrowing further into the crook of her neck, his breath sounding increasingly ragged. Was he hiding from her?

“Edward,” she said, pushing at his shoulder.

She pushed again, and he lifted his head, tears glistening in his eyes. “I told Sebastian I’d be what you needed, but you were so determined you’d never care for me, and between that and Basil’s lies, I worried I couldn’t succeed. That it was already too late.”

“It isn’t too late. You succeeded. I care for you. I love you ,” she repeated.

“I love you too,” he said against her lips. “And I’ve never been happier that I was right.”