18. A Ball is a Beginning

A half hour earlier, in the ballroom

Sure someone was watching her, Violet slowly turned her head until she spotted the reason the hairs on the back of her neck had risen.

Alfred, Duke of Weston, was standing near her father and Helena, Duchess of Weston, and his gaze was directed squarely on her.

If he felt any malice toward her father, it certainly didn't show in his eyes, for they reminded her of a long lost puppy. Not sure how to react, she gave him a prim grin and dipped her head. She dared a glance to her left and then right, wondering if she might sneak further into the crowd and disappear from his view. Another look in his direction, and she realized it was too late.

He was already making his way towards her.

Time to pretend again, she thought, remembering how easy it had been to do in Lord Everly's study and during their ride in the park. Surely it wouldn't be difficult in the crowded ballroom.

As he drew closer, the sense of excitement that passed through her surprised her. The music for the second dance hadn't yet begun, which meant he wasn't coming to claim it.

"You're a vision, Lady Violet," he said, reaching for her gloved hand even before she could offer it.

"Your Grace," she replied, dipping a curtsy. "You looked so regal descending the steps," she said with as much enthusiasm as she could muster. "I hardly expected you to notice me."

His expression of joy faltered for a moment. "I was searching for you," he claimed. "Are you well?"

She couldn't help how her eyes rounded at hearing his claim. "Very, Your Grace," she replied with a grin that came far too easily. "And you?"

"Very well, now that I've found you."

Violet gave a start, stunned at the fluttering she felt in her stomach. She was sure her face displayed a blush as red as his mother's gown. "Did you have a good day? After our ride?" she asked, placing her arm on his when he offered it. She didn't know where they were going, but the ballroom wasn't that large.

"I did indeed," he said. "We'll have to do it again, sooner rather than later."

"I should like that. Very much," she replied. "As will George of course. He is always happy for the exercise."

"I'll be sure to bring treats for the horses," he said.

She grinned and dipped her head before holding out her dance card. "No one has claimed any of the dances yet, so you can choose which ever one you'd like."

He helped himself to the tiny pencil dangling from her wrist and wrote Weston on two of the lines. "Mayhap you will forego the second dance?" he asked, "So that we might take a turn around the room?"

"Of course, Your Grace?—"

"Call me Weston."

Violet inhaled softly. "Weston," she said. "Are you in search of the buried treasure?"

He gave her a look of confusion. "Treasure?"

She tittered. "Lady Reading has apparently hidden a treasure somewhere here in this tropical paradise, and whoever finds it gets to keep it," she explained.

Alfred regarded her with a curious expression. "And here I thought I'd already found it," he mused.

Violet blinked. "Sir?"

He chuckled softly, which had her allowing a tentative grin. "Any clues as to where it might be hidden?" He had them heading in the direction of the refreshment table.

"I doubt it will be in the punchbowl, but I wouldn't object to a glass of punch," she said, deciding holding a glass would mean she wouldn't have to leave her hand on his arm. The strangest sensation of tingles had developed in her fingertips.

"What about champagne?" he asked, helping himself to a glass and offering it to her.

"Oh, thank you," she said, giving up her hold on his arm to take the glass. The tingling immediately ceased. She took an experimental sip.

He took another glass, and they continued to stroll along the length of the blue cloth-covered tables. Atop the tables were trays of finger foods separated by a palm trees under which were piles of sand dotted with tiny seashells.

"I think these are supposed to be tropical islands," Violet said when they paused in front of one of the trees. "The tablecloth is meant to be the water, and the sand makes up the island. But what are those?" she asked, pointing to a cluster of round, brown balls at the top of one of the trees.

"Coconuts," he said with a chuckle. "Rather clever."

"Indeed," she said before they moved on to the next display. "Look, there's a small treasure chest next to that palm tree's trunk."

"Do you suppose that's the treasure we're supposed to find?"

"It would have to be an awfully small treasure," she remarked.

"Could be gemstones," he reasoned.

"Could be coins," she countered.

"Could be empty."

She giggled. "We may never know, unless..." She stopped speaking when she spied her father on the other side of the table. He was escorting Alfred's mother from the opposite direction, and it was apparent he was about to touch the small chest.

"Unless?" Alfred prompted.

Violet shrugged. "Let's see if we can find a larger treasure chest," she said, hoping to move him away from the table. "Perhaps there's another, even larger treasure."

"Like what?"

"Well, what other kinds of treasures are there?" she asked. "And what might they be hidden inside of?"

He had paused and was staring at her mouth when their host, Randall Roderick, Marquess of Reading, called out, "We have a winner!"

The noisy ballroom quieted almost immediately, a few shouts punctuating the discovery of the treasure. They both turned, but the crush of bodies moving toward the tables kept them from seeing who Reading referred to in his announcement.

"I think we missed our chance," Violet murmured. "And it's all my fault. I'm so sorry."

Alfred stared at her. "You've no reason to be sorry," he replied, his head bent to hear someone comment on the prize. "It sounds as if it's merely a few emeralds and amethysts."

She angled her head to one side. "So it was jewels. You were right."

"Gemstones," he stated with a shrug. "Easy enough to acquire. It was an inspired idea, though. This entire tropical island theme is exquisite," he said, waving a hand to indicate the entire ballroom. "Has me wondering if it continues out in the gardens." He finished his champagne and placed both their glasses on a passing footman's tray.

Violet glanced towards the French doors, fairly sure her brother and Amelia had gone through them some time ago. "Perhaps we could go out and get some air," she suggested. "See what Lady Reading might have done out there in the way of tropical decor."

Without saying another word, Alfred pulled her hand onto his arm and they headed for the doors. They were almost to them when he suddenly stopped. "What about your... your aunt? The Duchess of Pendleton? Will she... will she wonder where you've gone?" he asked with suspicion in his voice.

"She's in the card parlor," Violet replied, "So I rather doubt it." Her gaze darted to where her father had been, and she confirmed his attentions were entirely on the Duchess of Weston.

He wouldn't be missing her, either, it seemed.

Alfred nodded and continued on, opening one of the doors for her and stepping aside to allow her to exit first.

Violet's gaze swept the garden area illuminated by the ballroom's chandeliers. Beyond that, the only light in the garden was from a few Japanese lanterns strung out over the pavers.

"Other than some early spring blooms, it doesn't appear the theme continues out here," she said with disappointment, once he offered his arm again.

"Are you cold?"

Violet inhaled softly, surprised he would ask. Perhaps the duke wasn't as self-centered as Amelia made him out to be. "Not at all, Your Grace. It's a lovely night," she said.

"Weston," he gently corrected her.

She dipped her head. "Weston."

He led her along the pavers, their pace slowing the farther away from the house they walked. "Perhaps there's a treasure box out here," she said in a quiet voice, well aware there were others in the gardens when she heard soft murmurs coming from behind hedgerows.

"Perhaps," he replied. "I'd rather not look for it, though."

"Oh?" She turned and regarded him with an expression of curiosity.

"Not when I already have one standing in front of me."

Violet glanced first to her left and then to her right before she swallowed. She covered her mouth with a hand as she attempted to suppress a giggle. "Are you referring to... to me?" she asked in a whisper.

He nodded. "You cannot be too surprised, my lady," he said.

"Well, I've certainly never been referred to as a treasure before," she reasoned.

"What about a tropical flower?" he asked, his fingers reaching up to touch the silk hibiscus in her hair. "You're certainly as gorgeous as one."

Violet inhaled softly. "Not that, either," she whispered, her thoughts suddenly a jumble. After how quickly their time in the ballroom had seemed to happen, everything outside seemed to move at a snail's pace. Even so, her mind was having trouble keeping up with his words. "I am?" Her eyes rounded when she felt a heat in her breasts that seemed to radiate from the very center of her body. Felt the damp at the top of her thighs. Heard her pulse hammering in her ears. "Weston," she said on a breath.

"If I was stranded on a tropical island, I think I would want for nothing if I found you there."

Barely aware his hand had moved to the side of her neck, Violet gave into his gentle pull and raised her face to his. A moment later, and his lips touched hers in a soft, brief kiss.

Violet inhaled softly. "You'd starve," she whispered, the sound barely audible.

He shook his head. "Making love to you would sustain me for the rest of my days," he said before once again capturing her lips with his. This time, the kiss went on longer, Violet understanding what to do to return it.

She didn't know when it happened, but her hands moved to his shoulders, her chest pressed to his in an attempt to quell the desire that had her nipples puckering behind her stays. For a moment, she thought to beg him to touch her there, to push down her bodice and take her breast in his hand. Into his mouth.

The mere thought of his lips nibbling her nipple had all sorts of unfamiliar sensations coursing through her. All sorts of wicked thoughts racing through her mind.

This wasn't supposed to be happening like this. She wasn't supposed to welcome his lips on hers. She wasn't supposed to allow his tongue to separate her lips so that he might deepen the kiss. She wasn't supposed to welcome the tip of his tongue as it touched hers.

If only he would hold onto her. Place a hand at her waist to help keep her steady. Her knees felt as if they were turning to jelly, probably because she had drunk the champagne too quickly.

She was sure she hadn't put voice to any of her thoughts, so she was shocked when his other hand moved to the side of her body, sliding up so his thumb stroked the shape of her bodice to the edge of its neckline.

Lifting a hand from his shoulder to place it against the side of his head, she speared her fingers through his dark hair before pulling his head down closer when she finally had to break off the kiss to take a much needed breath.

Accepting her overt invitation, his lips moved to the space below her collar bones, his tongue tracing the slight ridge out to her shoulder and then down along her neckline.

Afraid she might moan too loudly, she placed her mouth against the top of his head and shivered as his tongue and lips continued their trek along the lace.

"Does this tickle?" he whispered, humor sounding in his voice.

"In the very best way," she murmured dreamily.

He raised his head and regarded her with a curious expression. "I would continue but?—"

"Oh!" All at once, reason seemed to prevail, and embarrassment had her releasing her hold on him. "And I wouldn't object, but for the fact that you probably already think me fast," she countered, her eyes widening in alarm.

She had allowed the duke to have his way with her. His thumb was still stroking one breast, the nubbin of her nipple probably poking through her stays to make itself evident.

"No," he said in a whisper. "Never." When her gaze dropped to his wandering hand, he suddenly pulled it away. "Oh, pardon," he added, a brow furrowing. "I... I've never done that before."

Violet's eyes rounded. "I've never had it done to me before," she replied, deciding it best she set him straight lest he believe she was fast. "Although I... I didn't mind, truly," she whispered, unable to control the quaver in her voice.

He placed his forehead against hers, so she was forced to regard him through her upper lashes.

"Who must I ask for permission to court you?"

She blinked several times. "You wish to court me?" This wasn't supposed to be happening. Not yet. And then only to increase her brother's chances at securing Amelia's hand in marriage.

He chuckled softly. "I do. You have bewitched me, Lady Violet."

"I... I didn't mean to," she replied, stunned to discover she might have meant it.

This was not exactly working out as she had planned, but it was working. Merely a bit more quickly than she expected. If Weston truly felt enough regard for her to wish to court her, he might be persuaded to give his permission for Amelia to wed her brother. Amelia and Philip's future together would be assured.

Could Violet abide a lifetime with Alfred, Duke of Weston? Put up with his pompous airs and sullen manner for the rest of her life? Play at being a happy wife?

Well, she might be able to if he continued to kiss her as he'd been doing.

She was pulled from her brief reverie when he chuckled softly. "Of course you didn't mean to, which is why you are so good at it," he countered. "So… do I seek out Duchess Katherine? Or is there someone else I should speak with?"

About to answer, Violet gave a start at the sound of a snapping twig. They both turned in unison to see Michael and Helena making their way in their direction.

Neither the marquess nor the duchess seemed to have noticed them, though, the two gazing at one another as if they were the only two people in the entire world.

Alfred was the first to react, his arm wrapping around the back of Violet's waist so he could pull her through a small opening in the hedgerow. The widest part of her bell skirt prevented her from passing completely through, and she gasped.

"I've got this," Alfred whispered, quickly bending down to capture a wad of her gown and petticoats in his arms. He compressed them until they were free of the branches and then he moved them away from the opening.

Violet ended up in his arms as he stood with his back to the hedgerow. "Thank you," she whispered, angling her head around his shoulders. Given the density of the foliage, she was sure they weren't visible from the other side.

Not that her father would notice them. The way his attention had been on the Duchess of Weston, he seemed to only have eyes for her. He had been gazing at her as if he was trying to memorize every detail of her.

The same way Alfred was gazing at her.

Violet couldn't help how her breath shuddered. How the flutterbies in her stomach sent the most pleasant sensations coursing through her body.

He held a finger to his lips, his head tilted as if he was listening.

Violet did the same, recognizing her father's voice. She hadn't expected him to say anything—she was fairly sure he intended to do with the duchess what Alfred had been doing to her—so her brow furrowed when she heard mere snippets of his words.

"You cannot be surprised... it's our turn... make me happy... marry... the rest of our lives."

Glancing up, she noticed Alfred's changing expression. A grimace. A wince.

Was that anger?

Or disappointment?

There was a long moment of almost silence, the only sound the faint strains of music from the ballroom.

If the duchess said anything in response, Violet didn't hear it. She couldn't. Not over the pounding of the pulse in her ears, which had begun the moment she had spotted her father.

She gave a start when she noticed Alfred gazing down at her. "What is it?" she whispered.

He nodded toward the end of the hedgerow, where it connected to another hedgerow that might have lined the back of the property.

Violet nodded her understanding and stepped out of his hold. They quietly made their way until once again there were pavers under their feet.

"Could you hear what she said?" Violet asked, once they were out of earshot and were illuminated by one of the Japanese lanterns bobbing in the slight breeze.

"No," he replied, his expression suddenly dark.

"Could you hear what he said?"

Alfred scoffed. "Enough of it. He proposed marriage," he said, his manner once again that of the duke she had come to know through his sister.

They were nearly to the ballroom doors when Violet asked, "Do you object to the duchess marrying him?"

Pausing before he opened the door, the duke seemed to think on his answer before giving his head a shake. "I don't know."

Violet furrowed a brow. "Don't you wish to see your mother happy?"

He gave a start. "What makes you think she'll be happy married to Lord Fenwick?" he countered.

Inhaling softly, Violet allowed a shrug. "He obviously loves her. He's waited for her a very long time," she replied.

Furrowing his brows, Alfred regarded her with a curious expression before he was forced to open the door—another couple was making their way towards them from inside the ballroom. "I'll find you when it's time for our dance," he said, ushering her through the door and to one of the potted palms.

Violet gave him a wobbly grin as she reached up and plucked a leaf from his hair. "I'll be right here," she replied.

A moment later, and the duke had disappeared in the crush.