32. A Shoulder to Cry On

Meanwhile, at Fenwick House

Her eyes swollen and red from crying, Violet attempted a cheery attitude when Browning admitted her into the house.

"Your father requested your presence when it's convenient," the butler said as he saw to her gloves and pelisse.

Violet sniffled. "Where can I find him?"

"In the library." Browning's expression changed to one of concern. "Perhaps I should deliver some brandy with the tea?"

Sniffling again, she said, "Cake. Lots of cake," she countered, managing a watery grin before she headed for the stairs.

Barely past the open door to the study, she heard her brother call out to her. Sighing, she paused and retraced her steps.

"I wanted to thank you," Philip said, coming to his feet. "For what you did for Amelia and me." He was on his way to join her at the door when he suddenly stopped. "Oh, dear God, what's happened?" he asked in alarm.

New tears began falling before Violet could respond, and he was quick to offer a handkerchief.

"Amelia properly introduced me to Weston," she said between sobs. "He was quite angry to learn I was your sister. He thinks I tried to... bamboozle him... that I was playing him for a fool. But I wasn't," she went on. "He has forbidden me from ever stepping into Weston House again."

"Damnation," Philip muttered. He shook his head. "When I left him... he was in the best of moods. Better than he usually was at school," he claimed.

"He was very glad to see me when Amelia and I went into his study, but... oh, Philip." More tears streamed down her face.

"Did you?" he asked, angling his head to one side. "Try to bamboozle him, I mean?"

She nodded and then shook her head in frustration. "Maybe at first," she admitted. "I only wanted to help Amelia," she whispered. "And you."

"What's this?"

The two looked back to see their father standing on the threshold.

"Weston," Philip replied. "When he learned Violet was my sister, he told her she is forbidden from entering Weston Hall," he explained.

Michael pulled his daughter into his arms and rubbed her back with the flat of one hand. "I'd say it's not worth crying over, but I think there might be more to this than we know about," he said, his attention on his son.

"What do you mean?" Philip asked.

Violet glanced up at her father. She swallowed a sob. "I was right. When Amelia introduced me, he was angry. Frighteningly so."

Michael winced and patted her back. "He'll settle down," he said in a quiet voice.

"He hates me," Violet whimpered.

"He doesn't hate you. In fact..." Michael paused and arched a blonde brow before he chuckled softly. "Don't give it another thought."

"What?" she asked in confusion, only a moment before her brother asked the same question.

"We're going to have dinner together and stay in this evening," he replied, wincing when he remembered he had promised Helena he would be joining her at some point later that night.

"We are?" Philip asked.

"I didn't really wish to go to Brooks's just yet. We can play some billiards and eat cake to celebrate our betrothals," Michael continued. When he glanced down at Violet, he added, "Chin up, my darling daughter. A man is hard pressed to forget his first kiss."

Violet's brows furrowed as she glanced over at her brother.

"Well, it's true for me," Philip admitted with a shrug. "I rather think it's the same for young ladies, wouldn't you say, Father?"

"Indeed," he replied, his gaze still directed on his daughter.

Violet's face displayed a rosy blush. "You mean I'll be stuck remembering it for the rest of my life?"

Michael chuckled softly. "Ah, so there is one to remember, is there?"

She winced. "I'm going up to the library," she stated, extracting herself from her father's hold.

"What's up there?" Philip asked.

"Cake. Lots of cake," she replied, hurrying to the stairs.

The men watched her go and waited until she had disappeared before Philip turned his attention on his father and asked, "Do you know something?"

Giving him a shrug, Michael said, "Maybe." After a paused, he added, "Give it a day, and I'll know for sure."