“Hush.” Her mother waved her hand as though shooing a fly. Her fingers dropped abruptly, however, when she gave another cough. How unusual. Recovering, Lady Bradford picked up a bell that sat upon the desk and gave it a ring, its light tinkling filling the foyer. “It’s for me to decide. We’ve enough money to travel to Kent, if our visit with the Duke of Waverly doesn’t go as planned.”
Violette visibly shuddered. The man was a reclusive duke who hadn’t been seen in society since he’d inherited the title of the Earl of Westerly, and was known among society as a man with some unfortunate flaws. He was a heavy man, which didn’t make him unmarriageable, except for the fact gout had twisted his legs so that he walked painfully and with a definite limp.
Violette had enough of a dowry to make a match but only with the leftovers of society.
Not that a duke was regarded as ineligible. It was simply a case of him not being in attendance for any family to ever assess the match. Her mother, of course, was willing to make the journey sight unseen.
They stood waiting for the innkeeper. Her legs were sore and stiff from being in the carriage, it felt good to stand.
An older woman finally approached, rushing toward them as she balanced several plates in her hands. “I’ll be with you momentarily.”
Lady Bradford gave a nod as the woman disappeared again.
Violette heard the door to the inn open and she turned to see Mr. Riley step in behind them. That same tension that had filled the carriage infused the foyer of the inn and her spine snapped to attention.
“Have you not been waited on?” he rumbled as he joined them.
“Not yet.” Her mother gave a small huff. “They seem quite busy. I hope we are able to secure rooms.”
“We’ll secure them,” he replied. He neither sounded angry, nor overly confident. He only stated it as though it were a fact. Then he picked up the bell and gave it a quick ring. Its sound, rather than tinkling, was insistent as the noise echoed through the foyer.
The woman appeared again, her grey hair flying from its tight bun. As she approached, Mr. Riley narrowed his gaze once again. “We’ll take three rooms.”
Then he pulled another coin purse from his belt and sat it on the desk. “Of course,” the woman replied. She quickly snatched the purse, and started toward the stairway. “Right this way.”
Violette pressed her lips together to keep them from falling open while her mother gave an audible sigh. Her mother rarely engaged in such open displays of emotion. She understood her mother’s reaction, however. Mr. Riley’s efficiency, while appreciated, was rather demoralizing. The world was much more difficult for women alone.
As they reached the second floor, the lady began opening doors. Violette’s room was first and, as she stepped in, Mr. Riley turned back to all of them. “We’ll also need a table for dinner in an hour’s time.”
“Yes, me lord,” the woman replied.
If her mother thought to protest, she didn’t speak, which was Violette’s cue to remain silent as well. But Mr. Riley had just arranged their dinner plans without asking their preference at all. Violette stepped into the room and the door snapped closed behind her. Alone, she let out a very loud and long breath. Mr. Riley unsettled her. He was a mysterious man with whom she’d now be spending dinner.
Chapter Three
Theo sat in his room, wondering what made Lady Violette so blasted interesting. She was the sort of proper lady he’d be best to avoid. A mother and daughter of Violette’s age travelling to an appointment likely meant she was attempting to make a match.
He shuddered. Not because Violette wasn’t attractive. Some man would be fortunate to have a bride like her. Just not him.
But he’d gone and requested they have dinner together despite knowing it was a wretched idea. He should have said his thanks and goodbyes and never looked into the deep brown eyes of Lady Violette again.
Those eyes were one of the features that made her dangerous. Along with her plump lips and the vulnerable tilt to her chin.
Underneath all of that however, was something else, though she’d done her best to hide it. He didn’t yet know what it was but he was drawn to whatever she kept guarded under the very proper tilt to her chin.
He pulled the bell cord next to the door, hoping to have a scotch brought to the room. Perhaps it would provide some clarity or at least a little relief from his thoughts.
Two drinks later, he found himself at the table across from the ladies. Both silently watching him. They’d already exchanged greetings and commented on the continuing rain and now they seemed to have run out of topics to discuss.
Violette had on a simple gown of sturdy wool, but it fit her well. In addition to her lovely face, her figure could tempt a saint. He closed his eyes for a moment. I’m no saint.
When he opened them again, it was to find her eyes upon him, her brow crinkled just a touch as if she were puzzling something out. As soon as he met her gaze, a blush stained her cheeks and she averted her eyes. She made a man want to chase her. “Lady Violette,” he began, not certain what he wanted to say. “Have you participated in a formal season?”
She gave a soft shake of her head. Of course she hadn’t. Her mother would not be charging for carriage rides if she could afford to outfit her daughter for society. “No, Mr. Riley. This might have been my first season but my family has chosen a different direction for me.”
The statement told him several interesting pieces of information. She was eighteen or possibly nineteen. It wasn’t her choice to not partake in the season and likely not her choice to marry. It only intensified his curiosity. What was it she’d like to be doing? “I see.” He gave her a short nod. “I myself would not be here but my family has requested I return home.”
Her eyes widened as she leaned in just a little. It only made her more beautiful. “Where were you that you must return?”