Page 54 of More or Less a Countess
“No, I thought not. And your father has recently passed away, I think? Sad business. I do beg you will accept my condolences, and pass them on to your aunt.”
“Thank you, Lady Chase. I will, indeed.”
Lord Dare and Lady Chase seemed to run out of conversation then, and Violet was too busy praying for the ground to open up and swallow her to have anything to offer, so a short, awkward silence fell.
Lady Chase, who could never tolerate silence for long, spoke up at last. “How are you acquainted with my granddaughter, my lord?”
“I had the pleasure of meeting Miss Somerset at Lord and Lady Derrick’s dinner party a week ago, and she’s been kind enough to receive my calls since then, my lady.”
Lady Chase’s eyes went wide at this. “Indeed? Well, my dear, you didn’t say a word about accepting calls from Lord Dare.”
“I, ah—well, you were off to Bath so quickly, Grandmother, I didn’t have a chance—”
“No matter, no matter, child.” Lady Chase assessed her with a shrewd eye, then turned to sweep a considering gaze over Lord Dare. “How wonderful the two of you should have happened to meet.”
Violet barely managed to stifle a groan. She saw at once what her grandmother was thinking, as clearly as if she could read Lady Chase’s mind. Here was a charming suitor for her most troublesome granddaughter, an earl, no less, and he’d been dropped right into their laps out of nowhere, like a tall, handsomely wrapped gift from heaven itself. The only thing that could please Lady Chase more was to return from Bath to find Violet already betrothed.
Or better yet, married.
Never mind that her precious granddaughter had been out with a gentleman Lady Chase hadn’t met, without a chaperone, or that she’d been accepting his calls during her grandmother’s absence, and without her permission. If Violet could only bring him up to scratch, all would be forgiven.
“I’ll take my leave, as I’m sure you must be fatigued from your trip, my lady. It was a pleasure to meet you.” Lord Dare bowed to Lady Chase, then turned to Violet and bowed politely over her hand, as well. “Thank you for your charming company today, Miss Somerset. I enjoyed our outing even more than I anticipated.” He had his back to Lady Chase, and a wicked smile only Violet could see crossed his lips, leaving her in no doubt as to what he meant bythat. “Until tomorrow, then.”
It wasn’t until Lord Dare was in his carriage and rolling down the drive and Lady Chase was fretting and fussing over her baggage that Violet realized her grandmother hadn’t once referred to her by her given name.
He still didn’t know she wasn’t Hyacinth.
As far as Lord Dare knew, Violet Somerset didn’t exist.
Chapter Fourteen
“Reducing your gown to a heap of shreds won’t help a bit, Violet.”
Hyacinth reached over and tugged at Violet’s hand, but Violet clenched at the crumpled folds of blue silk in her fist until the delicate fabric, weary of her torment, ripped at the seams.
“For pity’s sake,” Hyacinth hissed under her breath. “Gather your wits, will you? Grandmother will be out any minute, and you can’t let her see you in such a state.”
They’d been about to depart for Lady Westcott’s rout when Lady Chase, fearful she’d take a chill, sent them to the carriage while she waited in the entryway for her lady’s maid to fetch her a warmer wrap.
It was a brief reprieve only—just long enough for Violet to give way to the panic clawing at her with its cold, skeletal fingers. Unless she could fall into a convincing swoon and escape this nightmare, she was about to come face to face with Lord Dare.
He’d called every single afternoon since that breathtaking, disastrous incident in his carriage, while Violet, who’d never in her life avoided confrontation, and who prided herself on her bravery…
She’d cowered in her bedchamber like a shivering rodent hiding from a merciless cat.
Five days of feigning illness. Five days confined to her bedchamber, and all for naught, because here she was, a carriage ride away from facing her doom.
Her grandmother’s patience with her fictional illness had run out the moment the invitation to Lady Westcott’s rout arrived. Lady Chase had called in a doctor who, predictably, had pronounced Violet miraculously cured. She’d been summarily rousted from her bed, hurried into the blue silk gown, and bundled into the carriage without further ado.
“Oh, Hyacinth! What am I going to do?” She’d half-deceived herself into believing her cowardliness was its own punishment, and since her misery intensified each time she refused another of Lord Dare’s calls, it seemed a sound enough theory.
It wasn’t.
Even the simple rules of cause and effect had deserted her. Logic had abandoned her to fate, and fate…well, fate was unpredictable, wasn’t she? Vindictive, even. Once fate took the reins, there was only one possible outcome.
Utter mayhem.
But fate was determined to bring Violet to justice, and now things had come to a head, indeed. Lord Dare would see her with Hyacinth, and thus the fact of Violet’s existence would be dramatically revealed. He’d fall into a fury, order her from his sight, and once her grandmother recovered from her apoplexy she’d banish Violet to her bedchamber for the remainder of her days.
