are married and we do reside in the same house.”
“No one has ever seen you together before.” Mother’s eyes narrowed as if she were trying to see into her daughter’s very soul. “Have you and your husband reconciled?”
“It’s really none of your concern,” Violet said blithely.
“Of course it’s my concern. I am your mother. I have only your best interests at heart.”
Best interests? It was all Violet could do to keep her temper in check. “Really, Mother? When did you begin having my best interests at heart?”
“I have always put you and your sister above all else,” Mother said in a lofty manner, which might have been most effective had Violet been able to recall even once when that was true.
“Did you put my interest above all else when you forced me to marry a man who didn’t want to marry me?” And there it was. The charge she had avoided making for almost six years.
“You were ruined!” Mother’s eyes widened in indignation. “My insistence on marriage saved you from a life of being alone.”
“And what do you think my life has been thus far?” The words were out of Violet’s mouth before she could stop them. She wasn’t sure why she’d said that. She hadn’t been alone these past years. Far from it. She’d had Cleo and any number of friends abroad. Why, she was the least alone person she knew. And if she didn’t have a husband who cared for her, well, that was the price to be paid for independence.
“Your life would have been perfect if you hadn’t been so headstrong.”
“You know nothing about my life, Mother.”
“I daresay I know far more than you suspect.” Mother stood. “Has your husband finally put his foot down and demanded you return home and pick up your responsibilities as his wife?”
Violet rose to her feet. “My husband does not put his foot down nor would I allow him to do so.”
“That might be one of the problems.” Mother sniffed.
“You simply will not accept that you forfeited the right to ask me anything when you forced me into marriage.”
“Nonetheless, I am asking if you and your husband—”
“Why do you care? What possible difference does it make to you?”
“People talk, Violet, and they’ve been talking about you for nearly six years. It’s a source of constant humiliation for the entire family. Why, we’re lucky your scandalous life hasn’t affected Caroline’s impending engagement!”
“Well, he is only a younger son, Mother.”
“If you and your husband would just come to your senses and—” Mother gasped. “Dear Lord, you’re here to ask for a divorce, aren’t you?”
“That is no concern of yours.”
Mother sucked in a sharp breath. “There has never been a divorce in this family. The scandal will ruin us all. I insist—”
“For God’s sakes, Mother,” Violet snapped, “that’s quite enough. I am not asking for a divorce and yes, I am back to stay.” She drew a deep breath. Mother was an expert at the art of gossip and might well be useful at dissipating any untoward rumors about Violet and James’s apparent reconciliation. “After all these years apart, James and I have at last acknowledged we share the kind of mad, passionate love every woman dreams of! There now, are you happy?”
“Not at all because that’s utter nonsense and I don’t believe you for a moment.” Mother huffed. “One doesn’t stay away for years then wake up one morning to discover true love was there all along.”
“Actually, Mother...” Violet raised her chin. “One does.”
“My dear, darling wife.” As if on cue, James strode into the room, pulled her into his arms and gazed deeply into her eyes. “It’s been but a few hours and yet it seems like an eternity since I left your side.”
“Does it?” What on earth was he doing? Violet gazed up into his blue eyes, dark and endless and...amused?
“When we’re apart, I count the minutes until we’re together again.” He lowered his head to hers as if he intended to kiss her.
Violet’s breath caught.
Mother cleared her throat.
“Oh, I am sorry. I had no idea anyone else was here.” He released Violet, but slid one arm around her waist in a blatant display of affection. Blatant displays of affection were every bit as bad in Mother’s view as wives not being proper.
“James, you remember my mother.”
“Yes of course.” His arm tightened around her in a manner that could only be called possessive. It was oddly satisfying.
“Lord Ellsworth.” Mother eyed him suspiciously. “I should take my leave.”
“Delightful to see you again.” He nodded toward the door. “Andrews will see you out.”
“Violet, I expect your attendance at your sister’s ball.”
“Good day, Mother.”
“Good day, Lady Cranton,” James said and nuzzled the side of Violet’s neck as if Mother wasn’t there. A shiver ran down her spine. She really should protest but how would that look?
“Dear Lord,” Mother muttered and marched toward the door.
Violet steeled herself against the melting sensation of James’s lips against that surprisingly sensitive spot where her neck met her shoulder and waited until the parlor door closed behind her mother. Even then it was far harder to get the words out than one would expect. She drew a deep breath. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“I’M CONVINCING YOUR mother as to our reconciliation.” James kissed that delicious juncture of neck and shoulder. Her scent—an arousing mix of jasmine and spice—wrapped around him and it was all he could do not to pull her tighter against him. “As she is one of the most notorious gossips in London, it seemed an excellent idea.”
“Well, she’s gone now.” Violet pushed out of his arms. “You can stop that.”
He grinned. “I rather enjoyed it.”
“You would.”
Given the charming flush on her cheeks and the look in her eyes, so did she, although she’d never admit it. Still, it was interesting. His grin widened.
“Nonetheless, it was entirely inappropriate. This is a farce, James. Nothing more. You do need to remember that.” Her voice was firm even if there was the tiniest breathless quality to it. That too was interesting.
