Page 29 of More or Less a Countess
This courtship had hardly even begun, but it was already finished.
He thought about the forlorn look on the wallflower’s face in the Almack’s sketch, the bleak beauty in her sketch of the burial grounds, and, to his surprise, his heart felt curiously heavy.
But no matter how diverting she was, or how much he wished to leave England behind, he couldn’t marry a lady whose sanity he questioned.
Hyacinth Somerset was not, despite his best hopes, the answer to his prayers.
Yet he could hardly refuse a brief call to inquire after her health, particularly under the circumstances. “Yes, of course.”
She released his hand with a nod. “Thank you, my lord. I look forward to your call tomorrow.”
Chapter Eight
If Violet imagined she could creep into her grandmother’s house for a second time that day without being detected, she was sadly mistaken.
“Violet! Oh, my goodness, wh-wh-where…”
Violet’s heart dropped as Hyacinth struggled to gasp out her words. Her sister hardly ever stuttered anymore, but when she did, it was always because she was dreadfully upset. She rushed forward and took Hyacinth gently by the shoulders. “It’s all right, Hyacinth. I’m here now. Take a deep breath. Yes, that’s it. Another one.”
A humiliated flush rose in Hyacinth’s cheeks as she struggled to speak. “It was dark when I woke, and I couldn’t f-f-find you, and I got w-w-worried, and then Br-Br-Bridget came back, babbling something about g-ghosts…”
“I’m so sorry, dear. I never meant to worry you. I thought I’d be back long before you woke, but as you can see, no harm’s come to me, and you know how Bridget exaggerates. There, another breath. That’s better.”
But it wasn’t better, because no sooner had Hyacinth gotten a breath than she began to pant again. “I saw you, Violet.” She pointed a wobbly finger at the door. “I heard a carriage, so I watched out the window, and it’s the same c-c-carriage I saw this afternoon, and then when it turned down the drive I saw the crest. You were out with Lord Dare, alone, at night, in his carriage, and he’s a dr-dr-dr-dreadful rake, and now I’m certain you must be r-r-ruined!”
Violet’s eyes slid closed in despair. She’d made a mistake, venturing out after dark. She’d gotten her sketch, yes, but if Lord Dare hadn’t happened along when he did she might very well have paid for it with her neck, and as it was she’d sent her sister into a nervous attack with her reckless behavior.
Violet patted and soothed and murmured until Hyacinth’s breathing calmed. “I’m not ruined, Hyacinth. I swear to you. Lord Dare isn’t a…oh, very well, heisa dreadful rake, yes, but he didn’t do anything untoward tonight. In fact, he did me a good turn.”
Hehadclasped her in his arms and carried her to his carriage, but he hadn’t had much choice under the circumstances, and anyway, she hadn’t been coherent enough to enjoy it, and she refused to count anything she hadn’t enjoyed as an impropriety. Pity she’d been unconscious for most of it—she would have liked more time to assess how it felt to be carried in Lord Dare’s arms. Or any gentleman’s arms, come to that. Well, any gentleman with a chest as solid as Lord Dare’s, and she’d prefer one who smelled as nice as he did.
“Wh-what kind of good turn?” Hyacinth had caught her breath, and now she was looking at Violet with dark suspicion. “What happened?”
“Well, I took Bridget out to Cockpit Steps, and while we were there, there was a bit of an upset with a…well, with a footpad, but it’s nothing to fret over,” Violet added hastily when Hyacinth’s face paled. “Lord Dare happened to come along at just the right moment, and he was kind enough to escort me safely home.”
Hehadbeen kind. Arrogant and overbearing, too, of course, but kind, and a good deal more solicitous of her safety than Violet would have expected him to be. Guilty pleasure swelled in her chest when she recalled the concern in his eyes when she’d roused from her faint and found him staring down at her. Of course, he’d be anxious for any lady who’d been attacked—his concern hadn’t anything to do withherat all—but even so, it had been his silvery-gray gaze she’d held onto in those first few blurry moments she’d struggled to swim back to consciousness.
And then he’d gone back for her sketchbook, too, without knowing whether or not the footpad he’d felled had regained consciousness. The truth was, aside from pawing through her private drawings, Lord Dare had been quite gallant this evening. She wouldn’t have expected it of him—not after what she’d witnessed in Lord Derrick’s library—but it seemed Lord Dare had more to offer a lady than thrusting hips and head injuries.
“What were you and Bridget doing out alone at Cockpit Steps? I could hardly get a word of sense out of Bridget—she kept raving about blood-stained gowns, and some poor lady who’d lost her head.”
Violet rolled her eyes. For pity’s sake, Bridget was hopeless at holding her tongue. “Oh,that. I was taking a sketch. You’ve heard the rumor about the soldier in the Horse Guards who murdered his wife, haven’t you? The story goes that he beheaded her, and was caught out with her body before he could rid himself of it. Now his poor dead wife drifts about, hovering between the Cockpit Steps and St. James’s Park—searching for her head, in my opinion.”
“What a ghastly story. No, I hadn’t heard it, and I’d just as soon not have heard it tonight, because it’s vile.” Hyacinth paused, her gaze narrowing on Violet. “But I should have guessed this business was somehow related to your book.”
Violet was a little offended to hear the word “vile” used in such close association to her precious book, and she was tempted to deny tonight’s adventure had anything to do with it, but it was no use trying to lie about it. Hyacinth was shockingly perceptive, especially when it came to her sisters.
“Oh, very well—yes, it’s for the book, the chapter about haunted London. I’ve made such good progress, Hyacinth, and now with Grandmother away in Bath—”
“She may be away, Violet, but Iris and Finn are here, and they expect us to arrive at their house tomorrow morning, so don’t imagine you’ll be permitted to run about London at all hours.”
Violet didn’t answer. In theory Hyacinth was right, but Iris was a great deal easier to persuade than their grandmother, and ever since that heartbreaking business with Lord Derrick, Iris had been particularly supportive of Violet’s book.
Lord Derrick.
Violet’s brows rose in surprise. How odd. Between the visit to the burial grounds and the headless ghost and being swept into Lord Dare’s arms, she hadn’t thought about Lord Derrick at all today.
“How did Lord Dare happen to become involved in this?” Hyacinth, who could be as persistent as any of the Somerset sisters when her temper was roused, refused to allow Violet to stray from the point. “I can’t think of any reason short of ruination why you’d come home in his carriage, Violet.”
