Haunting Violet
Page 10
I let Marjorie help me into my corset, leaving it looser than Mother liked. She tied hers so tight I wondered how she could eat, let alone breathe. “I suppose Mother’s already told him I’ll be down presently?” I tucked a wayward piece of lace back under my blouse. It needed mending.
“Yes, miss. And she’s ordered tea and a pot of chocolate. She would like you to hurry.” Marjorie helped me with my buttons. It wasn’t my most fashionable dress, but anyone who called for me at nine o’clock in the bloody morning would have to take what he was given.
“Thank you, Marjie.” I smiled at her. “I can manage the rest.”
She bobbed a quick curtsy and hurried off to the rest of her chores.
Without time to brush my hair, I merely twisted it into a rope and secured it at my nape with a handful of pins. I was stifling another yawn and rushing down the stairs when I nearly bumped into a maidservant carrying a pile of clean linens.
“Sorry!” I mumbled around a pin I’d yet to put in my hair.
She ignored me. I stepped out of her way, watching her continue up the landing. Her gaze hadn’t even flickered my way.
That’s when I noticed I could see right through the hem of her dress, the glow of white from her blouse and pale skin.
I shivered under a sudden icy draft.
I really shouldn’t be out of bed so early.
It clearly wasn’t good for me.
I was still gaping when Colin frowned up at me through the railing from the checkered marble floor of the front hall. “What you doing, then?”
“What?” I blinked, forcing my mouth closed.
“Doesn’t your prince know by now that you’re not a morning person?”
“Oh, do be quiet.”
“Are you wearing that?”
I just stared at him. “Don’t you start,” I muttered, feeling back to my normal self. Nothing like Colin’s smirks to set things back to rights. “This dress isn’t that old.”
“Aren’t you forgetting something?”
“What?”
“Shoes.”
I looked down at my bare toes. I hadn’t even remembered my stockings. If I’d been a duchess’s daughter, it would have been shocking. As it was only me, and it was early in the morning, it was barely surprising. Not that I thought for one moment that Xavier would have seen it that way. I made a sound of frustration and whirled around, dashing back up the stairs to my bedroom. Colin’s laughter followed me the entire way.
By the time I’d reached the door to the parlor, with my shoes properly in place, I was awake enough to care that my hair was escaping its pins again. I stuffed it back in, scraping my scalp until every thick curl was ruthlessly secured.
Xavier stood up when I entered. “Miss Willoughby, pray forgive the early intrusion.”
“Not at all,” my mother said before I could reply. She stood up as well, a steely glint in her eye. I peered into her cup, wondering if it was filled with lukewarm tea or sherry. “Do excuse me,” she added.
She swept out of the room, leaving the door open. Technically, we ought to have had a chaperone, even for a morning visit over tea, but Mother was hoping Xavier would offer for me. She wasn’t above unsubtly maneuvering us all to fall in line with her wishes. Besides, I supposed it wasn’t entirely risqué with the door open and servants rushing back and forth. I’d seen elevated social mamas do far worse in the name of securing a husband for their daughters. An elderly, gray-curled grandmother once tripped an eligible bachelor on his way to the gaming table so he would fall at her granddaughter’s satin-slippered feet. Instead he’d landed on a footman and broken his arm.
“Miss Willoughby?”
I turned my attention back to Xavier with a start. His brown eyes were warm and focused entirely on my face. “I’m sorry … yes?”
“Are you quite well?”
“Certainly.” I fought back a blush. Had I been staring blankly at the hideous cabbage rose wallpaper?
“I shouldn’t like to be forward, but I wanted a chance to see you.”
“That’s very kind of you.” I didn’t know what else to say. “More tea, Mr. Trethewey?” I filled his cup and passed him the sugar bowl. He smiled, stirred, and tapped the edge of his spoon on the rim of his cup precisely three times.
“I hope you’ll save me a dance at the ball this week?”
“Of course.”
“And I should like you to meet my parents,” he said. “They’ll be arriving later today.”
I swallowed nervously. “Thank you. I should be happy to meet them.” In fact, I wanted nothing less. They’d know right away that I wasn’t good enough for him.
He stood and came over to my chair, reaching for my hand. I’d forgotten my gloves again. The leather of his glove was soft and warm on my bare skin. He was always dressed impeccably and properly, no matter the hour. I stood up and we were very close.
“Mr. Trethewey?”
“Violet,” he exclaimed, even though we hadn’t yet given each other leave to use our first names. He lifted my hand to his mouth. No man had ever been this close to me before, and certainly none had ever taken my ungloved hand in his. Except for Colin, but that had been to push my fingers into the jam pot.
Xavier kissed those same fingers. It sent tingles up my arm.
“Violet, you must know …” He shook his head. “Forgive me. Forgive me,” he said again, seemingly startled by his own behavior. It happened so fast, I didn’t know what to think. I didn’t even have time to reply before he bowed and rushed out of the parlor.
“Yes, miss. And she’s ordered tea and a pot of chocolate. She would like you to hurry.” Marjorie helped me with my buttons. It wasn’t my most fashionable dress, but anyone who called for me at nine o’clock in the bloody morning would have to take what he was given.
“Thank you, Marjie.” I smiled at her. “I can manage the rest.”
She bobbed a quick curtsy and hurried off to the rest of her chores.
Without time to brush my hair, I merely twisted it into a rope and secured it at my nape with a handful of pins. I was stifling another yawn and rushing down the stairs when I nearly bumped into a maidservant carrying a pile of clean linens.
“Sorry!” I mumbled around a pin I’d yet to put in my hair.
She ignored me. I stepped out of her way, watching her continue up the landing. Her gaze hadn’t even flickered my way.
That’s when I noticed I could see right through the hem of her dress, the glow of white from her blouse and pale skin.
I shivered under a sudden icy draft.
I really shouldn’t be out of bed so early.
It clearly wasn’t good for me.
I was still gaping when Colin frowned up at me through the railing from the checkered marble floor of the front hall. “What you doing, then?”
“What?” I blinked, forcing my mouth closed.
“Doesn’t your prince know by now that you’re not a morning person?”
“Oh, do be quiet.”
“Are you wearing that?”
I just stared at him. “Don’t you start,” I muttered, feeling back to my normal self. Nothing like Colin’s smirks to set things back to rights. “This dress isn’t that old.”
“Aren’t you forgetting something?”
“What?”
“Shoes.”
I looked down at my bare toes. I hadn’t even remembered my stockings. If I’d been a duchess’s daughter, it would have been shocking. As it was only me, and it was early in the morning, it was barely surprising. Not that I thought for one moment that Xavier would have seen it that way. I made a sound of frustration and whirled around, dashing back up the stairs to my bedroom. Colin’s laughter followed me the entire way.
By the time I’d reached the door to the parlor, with my shoes properly in place, I was awake enough to care that my hair was escaping its pins again. I stuffed it back in, scraping my scalp until every thick curl was ruthlessly secured.
Xavier stood up when I entered. “Miss Willoughby, pray forgive the early intrusion.”
“Not at all,” my mother said before I could reply. She stood up as well, a steely glint in her eye. I peered into her cup, wondering if it was filled with lukewarm tea or sherry. “Do excuse me,” she added.
She swept out of the room, leaving the door open. Technically, we ought to have had a chaperone, even for a morning visit over tea, but Mother was hoping Xavier would offer for me. She wasn’t above unsubtly maneuvering us all to fall in line with her wishes. Besides, I supposed it wasn’t entirely risqué with the door open and servants rushing back and forth. I’d seen elevated social mamas do far worse in the name of securing a husband for their daughters. An elderly, gray-curled grandmother once tripped an eligible bachelor on his way to the gaming table so he would fall at her granddaughter’s satin-slippered feet. Instead he’d landed on a footman and broken his arm.
“Miss Willoughby?”
I turned my attention back to Xavier with a start. His brown eyes were warm and focused entirely on my face. “I’m sorry … yes?”
“Are you quite well?”
“Certainly.” I fought back a blush. Had I been staring blankly at the hideous cabbage rose wallpaper?
“I shouldn’t like to be forward, but I wanted a chance to see you.”
“That’s very kind of you.” I didn’t know what else to say. “More tea, Mr. Trethewey?” I filled his cup and passed him the sugar bowl. He smiled, stirred, and tapped the edge of his spoon on the rim of his cup precisely three times.
“I hope you’ll save me a dance at the ball this week?”
“Of course.”
“And I should like you to meet my parents,” he said. “They’ll be arriving later today.”
I swallowed nervously. “Thank you. I should be happy to meet them.” In fact, I wanted nothing less. They’d know right away that I wasn’t good enough for him.
He stood and came over to my chair, reaching for my hand. I’d forgotten my gloves again. The leather of his glove was soft and warm on my bare skin. He was always dressed impeccably and properly, no matter the hour. I stood up and we were very close.
“Mr. Trethewey?”
“Violet,” he exclaimed, even though we hadn’t yet given each other leave to use our first names. He lifted my hand to his mouth. No man had ever been this close to me before, and certainly none had ever taken my ungloved hand in his. Except for Colin, but that had been to push my fingers into the jam pot.
Xavier kissed those same fingers. It sent tingles up my arm.
“Violet, you must know …” He shook his head. “Forgive me. Forgive me,” he said again, seemingly startled by his own behavior. It happened so fast, I didn’t know what to think. I didn’t even have time to reply before he bowed and rushed out of the parlor.
