Page 23 of Hunted By the Guardian
She looked at the pool of water behind her. She had been having a nice time, and it might be worth it to get undressed and go back in—but the truth was that she didn’t really want to.
She took off her stockings, sat on the side, and contemplated what had just happened.
What had he meant by telling her that he knew she would have been courted if she had wanted to be?
Did he really feel that way?
And if he did—why had he said it?
CHAPTER 13
“Violet, your house is just lovely,” Agnes Stratton, Duchess of Bellmoor and one of Violet’s two best friends, enthused. “I can’t believe this place is really all yours. And thank you so much for volunteering to host book club this week so that we could see it! It’s so exciting.”
“Yes, it’s marvelous,” Dorothy Montford agreed. “To think—you’re finally free of your father, and you’ve also got such a beautiful place to call home. It’s such a blessing.”
“Two blessings in one,” Violet agreed. “And you needn’t thank me for hosting, Agnes, you know how happy I am to be able to do it. It means a lot to me that I have the opportunity at all. Will you come into my sitting room? I have some lovely sandwiches waiting for us.”
“Well, perhaps a tour first?” Agnes was craning her neck, looking around the place. “I’d like to see more of it?”
“You would not,” Dorothy said. “Don’t fall for it, Violet. She’s doing this because she wants to see the mysterious duke, not the house.”
“Well of course I want to see him.” Agnes laughed. “I won’t make any secret of that, Violet, and who would believe me if I did? You must already be perfectly well aware that I’ve been fascinated by this situation ever since you announced to us that you were sharing your house with the man.”
“I am not sharing the house with him,” Violet said firmly. “The house is mine. At least it will be, once all the paperwork has been filed and settled. Once the solicitor sorts everything out. In the meantime…he may be here but the house is not his. It’s just a matter of finding the best way to get him to leave.”
She had to admit that she was not as angry with Jonathan as she had been. There was something freeing about calling him by his first name, something he had probably anticipated when he had asked her to do it. And then, too, there was the fact that he had reassured her that he wasn’t being deceptive toward Noah. Whatever she might think of the rest of what he had to say, she believed him on that count. Her opinion of him had changed—he was not a bad person.
But he wasn’t a father figure for Noah, either. Noah needed a parent, and Violet was still the only viable option. And she actually wanted the job. It was beyond obvious that her relationship with Noah and her desire to care for him should have tipped the balance so far in her favor that Jonathan really shouldn’t even be living here anymore.
The trouble was, every time she had that thought, she recalled what had happened down in the underground baths. The way he had looked standing there, shirtless, his skin golden in the flickering candlelight. How close he had been. His soft voice echoing lightly in the cavernous room. The racing of her heart, which she’d thought might settle after she got her clothes back on—only it hadn’t.
The whole encounter should have left her outraged at him. But that hadn’t happened either. Instead, she felt strangely intrigued. She felt alert to his presence at every moment, as though she could feel him in the house with her even when she wasn’t able to see him.
Having her friends here did make that a little easier. They muffled the sense of him that she always carried with her now. And yet, as much of a relief as that was, she found that she also missed his presence a little bit.
If I’m feeling like that right now, what would happen if he actually left the house for good? Would I go on missing him for the rest of my days? How would I manage that feeling?
She didn’t know the answer. But what she did know was that she didn’t want to lose him. Not so soon. Not when things between the two of them had just become this intriguing. He felt like a puzzle she was trying to solve. If he left before she put the final piece in place, she would never get to see the finished picture.
“So,” Agnes said expectantly. “Will you take us to meet him?”
“I don’t think it would be a good idea.” As a matter of fact, it would have been a terrible idea, because he was down in the bath cavern today. They had agreed to alternate days for visits, and today was his turn. Violet was giving the place a wide berth as a result—she hadn’t even gone into the secret passages. It didn’t feel right to do so, and being in there would have made her painfully aware of his presence once more. It was the very thing she was trying to avoid.
“I worry about this man,” Dorothy told her. “I worry about you living in this house with a person we don’t know. How can we be sure he isn’t some sort of monster here to do terrible things?”
“Oh, he isn’t,” Agnes laughed. “Of course he isn’t. He just wants to get the house he thinks is his, as Violet told us.”
“I don’t know,” Dorothy said. “Agnes, you’ve always been the one of the three of us to throw caution to the wind. And I’ll admit that’s turned out well for you—it’s given you your marriage to Gabriel, and I know you’re very happy. But you can’t expect everyone to share your priorities. Not everyone lives to take risks, as you do. Violet has always been careful.”
“You don’t think she is being careful now, then?” Agnes asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Well, I’m sure she is doing her best, but we’re her friends,” Dorothy said. “It’s our job to look after her. It’s our responsibility to make sure that she is well protected. And to know that she is living in a house with a strange man—why, anything at all might happen. He might attack her in her sleep! And even if he doesn’t do that, it could give rise to all sorts of scandal. We don’t know what he’s telling people when he goes around town. We don’t know if he might be saying terrible things about her.”
“I’m sure Jonathan wouldn’t do that,” Violet interjected anxiously. “That’s not the kind of man he is. He has his frustrating qualities, but he isn’t wicked.”
How strange. Just a few days ago, at that awful breakfast, I was certain that he was wicked. And now I’m defending him. Things have changed so much.
“Wait a moment,” Agnes said. “Your mysterious duke—his name is Jonathan? Are we speaking of the Duke of Alderwick?”
