Page 16 of More or Less a Countess
Hyacinth made a sympathetic sound in her throat, but she shook her head. “Well, you won’t get it today. We’re off to Iris’s for tea this afternoon, remember? Grandmother sent me up to fetch you.”
Oh, no. How could she have forgotten about the tea?
Violet hugged her book to her chest to try and calm the sudden, painful kick of her heart. Honora and Lord Derrick would be there. They were leaving London in another few weeks to meet Lord Derrick’s family for the Christmas holidays at his country estate in Wiltshire, and they intended to stay throughout the winter.
If she didn’t see them today, it might be months before she saw them again.
Months.
God help her, but the thought brought nothing but relief. That is, relief and a sharp sting of guilt. Lord Derrick had always been kind to her, and Honora was her dear friend. They both deserved much more generous treatment, but at the moment Violet could hardly bring herself to look at Honora, and she certainly couldn’t look at Lord Derrick without a shameful press of tears behind her eyes.
She didn’t blame either of them for her heartbreak. How could she? It wasn’t Honora’s fault Lord Derrick had fallen madly in love with her instead of with Violet. She didn’t want to feel this way—to be selfish and hateful and begrudge her friends their happiness—and yet somehow the logic of the thing faded to insignificance in comparison to the pain of a broken heart.
“I can’t go to tea at Iris’s this afternoon, Hyacinth. I’ve, ah—I’ve got the headache.”
Hyacinth knew very well it wasn’t Violet’s head that ached, but bless her, she didn’t say a word. “You’ll have to come down and tell Grandmother, then. She’ll insist on seeing you herself.”
Violet sighed. “Yes, all right.” She smoothed her papers into perfect order and slid them carefully under the cushion, then followed Hyacinth down the stairs.
Lady Chase was waiting for them in the entryway, her cane clutched between her gloved hands. Violet blinked at her grandmother’s hat—a monstrous black and red creation adorned with an enormous ostrich feather. It was seated squarely on top of her head, and lent a sinister quality to the peevish expression on her face.
“Well, Violet. Here you are at last, but my goodness, what are you wearing? You look as if you dragged that dress out of the dust bin, and your fingers are black with ink!”
Violet looked down at her gown. Oh, dear. She was covered with streaks of dust. She tried to brush it off, but only succeeded in smearing the ink across a fold of the faded blue skirt.
“What’s to be done with you, Violet?” Lady Chase demanded in fretful tones. “You look like a scullery maid. Quickly, go up and change at once. We’ll be late again, but it can’t be helped, and—no, Hyacinth, dear. Don’t try and brush the dust off your sister. You’ll only end up covered in ink.”
“It’s all right, Hyacinth.” Violet caught her sister’s hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze before bravely facing her grandmother. “Do go on without me, Grandmother. I don’t wish to make you late on my account, and I’ve a dreadful headache, in any case. I should rest this afternoon.”
“You’ve a headache because you spend all your time in that dreary schoolroom, you silly child.” Lady Chase’s gaze narrowed on her, assessing her from head to toe, but to Violet’s surprise her grandmother’s expression softened, and the scold Violet expected never came. “Well, go on to your bedchamber for a rest, then. Hyacinth and I will make your excuses to Iris. Come along, Hyacinth.”
Violet quivered with impatience as her grandmother and sister sailed forth, but at last they were comfortably settled in the carriage, and it was rolling down the drive.
She peeked out the window until she was certain it had disappeared, then she turned and darted back up the stairs to fetch her sketchbook and cloak. It was time to get on with the business at hand—becoming London’s most notorious spinster bluestocking. She had sketches to do, and they wouldn’t get done by languishing in her bedchamber.
She crept back down to the entryway and threw a nervous glance over her shoulder before easing the door open. Eddesley, the butler, had been steadfast in his disapproval of her since she’d first set foot in her grandmother’s Bedford Square townhouse. Violet wasn’t certain what she’d done to offend him, but she was anxious to escape his disapproving eye.
For once, fate was on her side. No one was about. The entryway was still and silent.
That was one problem solved, but she had another. Lady Chase and Hyacinth had taken the carriage. Her grandmother had a barouche as well, but Violet couldn’t ask for it without alerting Eddesley, who’d gleefully report the request to her grandmother at the first opportunity.
No, she couldn’t risk it. She’d have to take a hack, but that presented its own set of problems, the main one being she’d have to secure it herself, and ride all the way to Islington unaccompanied.
Well, it couldn’t be helped, and fortune was said to favor the bold, wasn’t it?
Freedom was in short supply in Lady Chase’s household, but here was an entire afternoon of it dropped right into her lap, and Violet didn’t intend to squander it. A little cry of glee bubbled up in her throat as she darted through the door, cleared the top step with one exuberant leap, and…
Slammed right into a solid, masculine chest.
“Miss Somerset!” Strong arms closed instinctively around her to keep her from toppling down the remaining stairs.
Violet’s first panicked thought was that it was Eddesley, but she discarded it at once. If she’d careened into Eddesley with such force he would have collapsed into a heap like a stack of wooden blocks, and whoever’d caught her had a chest like a stone wall.
“My God, are you all right?”
A large hand settled on the back of her neck, and for a single, delirious moment Violet let her eyes close and her head rest against the hard, warm chest under her cheek. Goodness, whoever he was, he smelled divine.
A low rumble vibrated under her cheek. “Well, I’m pleased to see you as well. I confess I didn’t expect quite so warm a welcome, given you practically tossed me out of your drawing room when I called yesterday.”
