Page 2 of Hunted By the Guardian
“Your father is right,” Miss Trevet chimed in. “You’re far too old to be living here unmarried.”
“You’re unmarried,” Violet pointed out. “And ten years my senior.”
Miss Trevet’s jaw dropped. “Are you going to permit her to speak to me that way, Andrew?”
“No.” Violet’s father took her by the shoulder, his grip so firm that it bordered on painful, and led her away. Violet refused to let the pain show on her face. She gritted her teeth and waited, and after a moment her father let her go.
“What did we just discuss?” he hissed. “What did we talk about? You’re not to talk to Lady Trevet that way. You’re to show her respect.”
“What does she mean? What promise is she talking about?”
Her father sighed. “You’re not going to be able to live here anymore, Violet.”
Violet’s head spun. “What are you—what?”
“You can’t stay here. Lady Trevet has no desire to play mother to a daughter that isn’t hers, and honestly, who could blame her? Of course she doesn’t want you here. She shouldn’t have to have you here.”
“I don’t understand.” Violet needed to sit down, but her father had led her away from her chair. There was a wall nearby, and she braced her hand against it. “Where am I to go? This is my home. You getting married doesn’t—doesn’t change that fact.”
“Yes, it does.” Her father reached into his pocket and pulled out a piece of paper, folded in half. He handed it to her. “This is your Aunt Margaret’s will. Your mother’s sister.”
Aunt Margaret. Violet hadn’t seen the woman in years, but in her childhood—before her mother’s death—the two of them had been close. “I didn’t realize she had died…”
“I received this a month ago,” her father said.
Her temper flared. “You never said anything to me? Why not?”
“I’m telling you now,” he told her. He held up the letter. “You and I together have been left the Westlake Estate.”
“I…both of us? How can I inherit?”
“You can inherit because my name is on it as well,” her father told her. “And I’m prepared to give the estate in its entirety to you. It will be all yours, Violet, and all I ask of you is that you go and live there on your own so that I may marry and live in peace.”
“You’re trying to get rid of me,” she realized. “You wish to pretend you’d never had a daughter at all. That you had never been married to my mother.”
“I wish to start anew with Lady Trevet,” her father said stiffly. “I am entitled to that. You ought to be thankful that you have somewhere to go.” He handed her the piece of paper.
She took it, feeling numb. “This was your promise,” she murmured. “That you would get rid of me.”
“You may have three days,” her father said. “Lady Trevet would prefer that you leave at once, of course, but I am not so cruel as that.”
“No. Not so cruel as that.”
He looked away from her. “Three days,” he repeated. “Then I expect you to be out of this house for good, and on your way to Westlake. I don’t think this is too much to ask of you. You may even take your lady’s maid with you. I will release her from her contract.”
Violet had no idea how she was to pay Georgina, but at least she had the hope of not being completely on her own. Still, she wasn’t about to offer her father any thanks for putting her in this situation.
She kept her back stiff and straight as she walked from the room. The only sign of her emotional distress was the way the paper crumpled in her hand as she took her leave.
Behind her, she could hear the shrill sound of Miss Trevet laughing at her, but Violet refused to turn back.
CHAPTER 2
“Lady Violet, I presume?”
The man waiting in the doorway was older, perhaps in his sixties, with spectacles perched on his nose and neatly combed silver hair. Violet knew by his clothing that he was a servant, but it was a pleasure to see one who took such care in his appearance.
The whole of Westlake was the same way, really. It wasn’t the biggest estate Violet had ever seen—in fact, she might have used the word cozy. But it was clean and well-tended. The light shone in brightly through the clean windows. The floors and the walls were polished so they gleamed, and the shine on the banister, which she saw as she entered the house, was such that she felt a temptation she hadn’t had since childhood—to slide down it.
