Page 3 of More or Less a Countess
Iris glanced down the table, nudged Honora with an elbow, and jerked her chin in Hyacinth’s direction. “Now would be best, Honora.”
Honora followed Iris’s gaze and rose at once to her feet.
Lord Derrick leapt up to open the door for the ladies, and his expression, as he watched his wife approach…
Violet’s heart lurched miserably in her chest.
She knew Lord Derrick loved Honora. He wasn’t the sort of man who married a lady he didn’t love. But to know a thing wasn’t, alas, the same as witnessing it, and even as Violet’s heart twisted with pain, she couldn’t take her eyes off his face as he gazed at Honora.
His entire being was alight with joy, his brown eyes glowing with it. Honora was simply crossing the dining room, a common, everyday occurrence, and yet he watched her as if…as if his every hope and dream had come to vibrant life in front of him.
Because it had.
He didn’t just love Honora; headoredher. One had only to look at him to see there wasn’t the smallest corner of his heart that didn’t echo with Honora’s voice, her laughter, her smile.
It wasn’t any wonder Honora inspired such profound love. She was beautiful and kind and graceful, a diamond of the first water. She was the sort of lady who could bring the most jaded gentleman to his knees.
Whereas Violet…wasn’t.
She had the same dark blue eyes and fair hair that had made her sister Iris the belle of last season, but Violet’s laughter didn’t tinkle like silver bells. She didn’t know how to toss her curls or flirt her fan. Her quadrille was a disgrace, and her musical abilities—well, even her grandmother had been brought low in defeat over Violet’s tone deafness.
It wasn’t as if she didn’t have anything to recommend her, but the gentlemen of the ton didn’t admire cleverness. They didn’t fall into desperate passions over a lady who was intrigued by Chinese torture or could recite the particulars of a mongoose’s immune system. No, the best such a lady could hope for was to be mocked and ridiculed.
“Violet? Are you unwell? You’ve gone white.” Honora took her arm, her brows pinched with concern as she studied Violet’s face.
To Violet’s horror, tears threatened. Honora had been a true friend to her, and instead of swallowing her bitter disappointment over Lord Derrick, Violet had spent these past weeks begrudging Honora her happiness.
“I’m fine, dear. It’s just a sudden headache.”
Honora patted Violet’s hand. “Why don’t you go into the library and rest for a few moments? You can slip into the drawing room when you feel better.”
“But Hyacinth—”
“She’s all right. She’s gone ahead into the drawing room with Iris, and Lord Huntington and Lord Derrick will join us soon.”
Violet hesitated. She shouldn’t abandon her younger sister, but just the thought of a few moments of solitary quiet to nurse her bruised heart made her ache with longing. “If you’re certain.”
“Of course I am.” Honora smiled, gave her a gentle push in the direction of the library, and then turned to follow the last of the ladies into the drawing room.
Violet crept down the quiet hallway and slipped into the cool silence of the library, the faint scent of must and leather wrapping around her like an old friend. Ever since she was a child libraries had felt like home to her, and she didn’t hesitate to let herself sink into the comforting embrace of this one.
She didn’t bother to light a lamp, but lay down on one of the sofas in front of the fireplace. Darkness swallowed the room as the flames burned lower in the grate, until at last they disintegrated into a few glowing embers in a pile of ash.
Violet didn’t mind the dark. She’d spent many evenings alone in her grandmother’s library, cradling dusty books in her hands and pondering the pattern of invisible fingerprints on those old, crackling pages. And after all, it wasn’t so terrible to be alone, was it? All of London might scorn the spinster bluestocking, but there was a freedom to it. Perhaps it was lonely at times, but books demanded nothing of her.
Not like people.
No, she was quite happy to be alone—
Click.
Violet tensed as the catch on the library door released, followed by a faint squeak as the door was eased open, and then closed again with a quiet thud.
Thinking Honora had come to fetch her, Violet opened her mouth to make her presence known, but before she could utter a word she was interrupted by a low, masculine growl, then a high-pitched gasp.
“Stop that, my lord! You’ll tear it.”
Violet heard a noise that sounded like a playful slap, and then an unmistakable feminine giggle, and she instinctively sank lower into the sofa so she wasn’t visible from the door.
