Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

B y the time evening rolled around, Isabelle’s ankle was in fine form. She had no swelling and no pain, and neither Violet nor Edward made any mention of the injury or lack thereof as they climbed into the carriage bound for the assembly.

The rain had slowed to a steady drizzle sometime in the afternoon and had settled into nothing but a hanging mist by the time they arrived.

The first time Violet and Isabelle had attended an assembly, they had been able to enter mostly unnoticed. They had been new to town, so they had been a novelty, but still not noteworthy enough to garner too much attention. The same could not be said of their arrival this time. Edward effortlessly drew the eye of every person in the room. It was his status, surely, but also his approachability. Almost as one, the townsfolk surged around him, greeting him as if he were a long-lost friend rather than a stranger.

Feeling a bit overwhelmed, Violet performed introductions with as much poise as she could muster. Pretending to be the cousin of the Earl of Greydon was quite a bit easier when his brother wasn’t at her side. It wasn’t that she thought Edward would reveal her lies, simply that he knew the truth and she couldn’t help worrying that someone would see them standing together and immediately recognize her for the fraud that she was. Fortunately, no one seemed the slightest bit suspicious.

When the dancing started, she practically shoved Maud into Edward’s arms and then allowed the village women to swarm him as each dance came to an end. He gamely danced with a different partner every time the music started up again. Unmarried and married, young and old, tall and short. They all seemed to revel in the opportunity to be the focus of his attention.

Not that she could blame them.

After a particularly rambunctious reel that had left his cheeks flushed and eyes sparkling, he managed to escape the hoard and came to a halt at Violet’s side, thrusting a glass of punch into her hand.

“You look absolutely parched,” he said by way of explanation.

“Thank you,” she replied softly.

She had tried to extract herself from Maud’s too-perceptive clutches while he’d been dancing the reel, but her attempts to escape had only managed to draw the other woman deeper into conversation and had given Violet no opportunity to evade him when he sought her out.

“Aren’t you the sweetest man?” Maud said, fluttering her lashes and fanning herself dramatically.

“I apologize for not bringing one for you, too, ma’am.”

“I’ve had more than enough punch tonight.” Maud giggled and swatted his arm. “I noticed that you haven’t danced with either of your cousins yet. A bit remiss of you, I’d say.”

“Isabelle has danced every dance,” Violet interjected stiffly before Edward could reply.

“You haven’t danced at all though,” Maud lamented. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you hated dancing.”

“I don’t hate dancing, but?—”

Edward interrupted, “It would be my pleasure to share a dance with you.”

His comment was entirely casual, but she couldn’t help feeling like he’d come to her side with the intention of asking her to dance. She was entirely too caught up in her own head to know whether she was being ridiculous or not. It wasn’t as if it would be unusual for cousins to dance together.

Maud gently pushed Violet toward Edward and said, “You must dance with your cousin.”

His hand rose between them, palm open as he waited for her to accept.

She could decline. Claim she was too weary.

Except she didn’t want to decline.

She hadn’t avoided dancing with him because she didn’t want to. It was because she wanted it too much. An adept dancer, she had always enjoyed exerting herself, but would Maud or one of the other women in the room doubt they were cousins if they danced together?

Even more concerning, would she forget she was pretending?

They looked nothing alike. He was handsome, golden, and striking, while she was pale, skinny, and inconspicuous. On its own, their vastly different appearances might not have been enough to reveal her lie, but they acted nothing alike either. He was gregarious and likable while she was prickly and standoffish.

Since their dash through the rain, she was afraid she was too aware of him to hide how much she liked him. Reluctantly, she placed her gloved hand in his, ignoring the sizzle of awareness.

“Of course I will dance with you.”

Maud beamed at them, and Violet attempted to smile back.

Maybe she could handle a single dance.

Maybe she was worrying needlessly.

Maybe dancing with him wouldn’t make her like him more. It seemed unlikely, but it was too late. Edward clutched her fingers gently as he led her onto the dance floor. They lined up opposite each other, and she exhaled in relief when she noticed how many other couples had joined them. It would be easy to blend in with so many dancers on the floor, and from a distance of a few feet, she thought she might be able to maintain a facade of coolness toward him.

The music started, and she danced as if she was exactly the person she was pretending to be. Avoiding eye contact with everyone, she actively tried to pretend that she didn’t feel a pull of attraction in her gut every time she caught a whiff of his heady scent.

“I think I could use a bit of fresh air,” she said when the music finally faded.

“That sounds pleasant. Allow me to be your escort?” he asked, extending his arm.

“Oh…um…” His escort wasn’t necessary, but she reached out and rested her fingers in the crook of his elbow anyway. He smoothly ushered her out of the room, down the short hallway, and into the night. Pulling her shawl tighter, she glanced behind them as he shut the door with a resounding click. It was dark and cool outside, but the rain had not resumed, and a few stars were even visible as they walked along the side of the building toward the sea.

“That was rather smooth,” she couldn’t help remarking, as she glanced at him.

He caught her gaze and winked. “It was your suggestion to get some air.”

“I wasn’t—” She stopped herself.

He was right.

If she hadn’t wanted his company, she wouldn’t have allowed him to escort her, or she wouldn’t have made the suggestion in the first place.

The entire day had led her to like him even more than she already had, and while it was exceedingly foolish to spend more time in his company, she could not seem to stop herself.

What was one more idiotic decision anyway?

“Thank you for escorting me.” The way the moonlight glittered on the sea was spectacularly calming. She tried to ignore that it was also insanely romantic. “I adore the view here. It’s so peaceful to look out over the water.”

“This is the first time I’ve been to the coast. It’s been more than a bit damp.” He chuckled. “But it’s quite lovely in its own way.”

“Many people find the seaside to be soothing. I believe that is why so many people visit.” She felt ridiculous as she said it, but he hummed as if in agreement.

They both fell silent when they came to a halt at the edge of the pathway. It wasn’t overly cold, but she had the inexplicable urge to tuck herself into his warmth anyway. The air between them was ripe with tension she’d only felt once before, and she should have been terrified.

If she’d allowed herself, she would have been terrified.

She’d been expertly wooed by Basil. Her betrothed was quite skilled in all the things she imagined a man did for a woman he wanted to marry. He’d regularly brought her fresh blooms, walked with her in the garden, conversed with her attentively, and admired her in a way that made her believe he found her pleasing. His heated expression had lingered on her lips with increasing frequency, and they’d shared their first kiss in an alcove of her father’s house.

Nothing more than a brief touch of his lips to hers had inspired an avalanche of desire.

Desire that she had later discovered to be one-sided.

Desire that had made her foolish.

Desire that she had assumed she’d never feel again.

Edward was not the same as Basil. He was not trying to woo her, at least not in the traditional sense, and yet she wanted to kiss him.

Her eyes dropped to his lips.

It would be ridiculous of her to kiss him.

Giving him false expectations was wrong. And giving herself false hope was foolish. Kissing him would be dangerous to her state of mind, and yet she moved closer, stepping into his space and inhaling his musty scent.

“Violet,” he whispered. It sounded like a question.

His breath feathered over her lips, and she couldn’t stop herself from leaning closer. Close enough that she could feel his heat. Close enough for her bodice to brush his warm, firm chest. Close enough that she could kiss him.

If he allowed it.

If she allowed it.

“Edward.” Her voice was even softer than his had been.

He remained so still it was hard to tell if he was breathing. Slowly, giving him ample chance to step away, she closed the distance between them and pressed her lips softly against his.

He responded immediately.

Scorching heat ricocheted up her spine.

Desire—which she no longer trusted, but definitely experienced—flooded her senses. His lips were gentle, nipping softly, coaxing her to open her mouth so his tongue could slip inside. It was like nothing she’d felt before, and her fingers dug into his shoulders as she clung to him and kissed him back with a ferociousness that was difficult to control.

Violet relished the feeling of his hardness when he pressed his body into hers. He kissed with single-minded focus, as if he couldn’t get enough. She kissed him harder, with more enthusiasm, and allowed herself to focus on nothing except the way he electrified her senses.

He seemed to like her sudden aggression, because he widened his stance and pressed his palm against her lower back, holding her so his legs sheltered hers and their bodies pressed even closer. Their hearts thudded in perfect harmony as his free hand slipped up to cup her neck, his fingers decisive and firm. The pressure he exerted was almost enough to keep her immobile, and she relished being at his mercy so much that she didn’t fight for control, just kept her mouth fused to his while their tongues tangled and dueled.

He overloaded her senses in the best possible way.

A way that she craved. That she’d missed.

A whimper escaped.

He tried to gentle the kiss, but she didn’t want gentleness from him. She wanted the kiss to remain unhinged and uncontrolled, so that she didn’t have the opportunity to think.

Biting his bottom lip, she tried to keep him from backing away.

She didn’t succeed.

Shamelessly, she chased after his mouth, trying to recapture his lips, but it was no use. He pulled away, his chest heaving, his face open, his desire still evident.

He looked absolutely wrecked by their kiss, as if he were stunned. It was almost inconceivable that he could be as affected as she was, but his appearance indicated that he, too, had been swept away by lust. And surprised by the passion between them. She wanted to trust that the most intense kiss of her life had been sincere and that he’d felt the same incredible rush of arousal that she had.

Dragging her gaze from his eyes to his mouth, she wondered what he’d do if she kissed him again.

Oh no .

She was doing it again. Building castles in her mind. Allowing her physical response to a handsome man to convince her that he wanted her .

Her heart started racing.

What was wrong with her? Had she learned nothing from her past mistakes?

When he’d asked her to marry him, it had been easy to say no, but now that she’d experienced his kiss and spent the day with him, she wanted to throw caution to the wind and say yes. How reckless could she be?

Working to strip the emotion from her expression, she couldn’t help noticing that he wasn’t trying to do the same. He kept viewing her with the same unguarded hunger even though he retreated several steps, fluffed his hair, and adjusted his cravat.

Trying to reconstruct the skepticism that kept her safe, she plastered a wooden smile on her face. Even if her feelings were snarled, she was determined he wouldn’t notice. When she finally forced herself to meet his gaze directly, their eyes locked, and he gave her a dazzling smile.

His thoughts remained patently clear.

He wanted her.

Had he no sense of self-preservation? Did he not realize how vulnerable he was making himself? What sort of man allowed his emotions free rein?

The sort who believed he’d won.

Coldness seeped into her heart. Was he manipulating her? Did he believe he’d convinced her to marry him? Did he truly think a single kiss would be enough for her to risk a lifetime?

She smiled weakly in return, and for a brief moment, she struggled to separate him from Basil. They were eerily similar in some ways. They both had confidence and utter certainty in themselves.

In other ways, though, Edward was completely different. Unguarded. Earnest. She didn’t know what to make of the differences any more than she knew what to make of the similarities.

“Isabelle will be wondering where I am,” she said, as evenly as she could.

“Yes of course,” he said, offering his arm once again. “Shall we find her?”

Unwilling to give him any indication of her muddled thoughts, she took his arm and allowed him to guide her back to the assembly.

* * *

Edward wanted nothing more than to pull Violet back into his arms. Kissing her was unlike anything he’d ever experienced. It made him lose his head. It made him reckless. He knew better than to tryst where anyone might stumble upon them.

Ruining her reputation and smudging his own would only cause strife between them, so he’d pulled away, and instead of kissing her again, he harnessed his lust and escorted her back to the assembly so she could find her sister.

It was the right thing to do.

The sensible thing to do.

Especially since she was so obviously trying to pretend she’d been unaffected.

It wasn’t the appropriate time to confront her about what had changed between them. They’d need true privacy for that sort of discussion. And he needed a better handle on how his motivation had shifted over the past day before he discussed his feelings.

When he’d recklessly offered marriage, he’d hadn’t considered anything except for his need to be helpful. That need had not faded, but it had been joined by a genuine appreciation for Violet Shaw’s company. And a startling amount of fiery attraction.

He liked her. As a person. And as a woman.

Until he kissed her, he hadn’t truly considered what marriage would actually mean. The intimacy. The trust. The familiarity it would yield. She was a vibrant, lively, passionate woman, and he’d been too focused on his quest to be useful that he hadn’t once pondered the logistics of what would happen after he saved her from Basil.

Basil would be gone, but they would be married .

He felt like an idiot.

He’d witnessed what happened when two strangers married, and while Sebastian and Emmeline were proof that it could eventually work, they were also proof that courtship existed for a reason.

He hadn’t had time to court Violet.

Or woo her.

Or determine whether they would be a suitable match.

But he hadn’t hesitated to kiss her anyway.

One look at her face as they reentered the assembly had him deciding not to mention anything related to the kiss, his intentions, or hers, until after they’d had a chance to refresh themselves with a night’s rest.

* * *

Feigning normalcy, Violet sat next to her sister in the carriage and listened as Isabelle chattered cheerfully. The ride passed quickly, requiring very little from Violet.

It was late enough when they returned that she was able to bid Edward goodnight, whisper instructions to Isabelle, and slip into her room without alerting anyone to her turmoil.

She had realized almost immediately once she regained her wits that there was nothing for her to do now except return to London. She had crossed a line that she shouldn’t have crossed, and the consequences could be far reaching if she remained.

She feared she would fall in love with Edward if she stayed another day.

Once in her room, she made quick work of packing her things. It didn’t take long. It wasn’t as if she had much. When she was ready, she forced herself to sit quietly while the moon shot a beam of light across the darkened floorboards. Because she wanted to leave without any fanfare or notice, she decided to wait until just before daybreak to sneak out.

In an unusual stroke of luck, the mail coach would be passing through the village quite early, and Violet intended to do whatever was needed to ensure that she and Isabelle were on it.

When it was finally time, she collected her sister, crept down the narrow staircase, and slipped into the night. They were silent as they made their way down the dark lane, not even whispering until after the cottage was out of sight.

It was only a minute or two before they saw Mr. Robb’s cart appear in the distance. His delivery route would take him through the village and with a few simple words, they gained a ride. It was quick and easy to secure passage on the mail coach once in the village, and they were on their way as streaks of light shot across the countryside.

Violet clutched Isabelle’s hand as they careened toward London, but she didn’t offer an explanation for her rash actions, and her sister didn’t press her to explain.

Instead of dwelling on what had happened between her and Edward, Violet wracked her brain for what she would do if she couldn’t convince Basil to dissolve their betrothal.