say I rescued you.”
“After it was you who put me in an untenable situation in the first place.” She ignored the fact that she had kissed him back with all the enthusiasm of unrequited love. “And destroyed my life in the process.”
“Not deliberately,” James said as if that made a difference. “That was never my intention.”
“I’ll arrange an appointment with my solicitor.” Lord Ellsworth smiled at his new niece. “I know it’s difficult at the moment, but regardless of where your travels take you, I do hope you will consider Ellsworth House your home.”
She forced a smile. “Thank you, my lord.” She turned her attention back to James. Resolve hardened her voice. “As for you, I never want to see you again.”
“There will be occasions—”
“Never!” She fairly spat the word, ignoring the pain squeezing her heart. Apparently, this was what true heartbreak felt like. No doubt made worse by the hope that last night... She thrust the thought aside. “I’m quite serious, James. Never.”
He stared, a stunned look on his handsome face. As if only now did he realize the consequences of what he’d done, of how he’d crushed her hopes and her heart. “Very well, never.”
“Now, if you will excuse me.” Violet nodded and headed toward the door. It was all she should do to keep her pace calm and sedate when what she truly wanted was to flee and then weep. Possibly forever.
“That appears resolved,” his lordship said behind her. “I must say, I’m rather disappointed.”
Tears blurred her eyes and she started toward her rooms. This was not the future she’d envisioned yesterday when she’d said vows that apparently only she really meant.
“It’s for the best, uncle.” James’s voice trailed after her.
Maybe in that at least, James was right.
London
Nearly six years later...
“HAVE I TOLD you how fortunate I am to be dancing with the loveliest woman here?” Lord Westmont said in his most charming manner. A manner designed to persuade whatever lady he was speaking to that he had never said those words—or words at all like them—to any other woman.
“Why no, my lord, I don’t believe you have.” Violet Branham followed his lead flawlessly. Westmont was an excellent dancer but then so was she. She flashed him a knowing smile. “At least not tonight. Although you might have mentioned it last year when we danced together at this very ball. And I believe the year before that, as well.”
His eyes widened in surprise. Poor Evan never would have expected a woman—a mere woman no doubt—to be so horribly honest. It was not how the game was played. But then Violet was tired of playing games by other people’s rules.
A stunned moment later, he laughed. “Lady Ellsworth, you are as outspoken as ever. I don’t know why I didn’t notice how truly delightful you are years ago.”
“Years ago, I wasn’t particularly delightful. But you don’t recall meeting me years ago, do you?”
The most charming look of panic crossed his face.
“Goodness, Evan, we met some nine years ago during my first season and again during my second and third seasons, as well. You simply weren’t, oh, aware of me, I would say.”
He frowned. “That’s a dreadful accusation.”
“My apologies.” She widened her eyes in an innocent manner. “Was I supposed to be kind?”
“I’m beginning to suspect I don’t deserve kindness,” he said slowly.
“Not in that respect. It was indeed a dreadful thing to do, you know. At least it seemed so at the time.” She shrugged. “Although you were not alone in your complete lack of acknowledgment of my very existence.”
He winced. “My apologies, Violet. All I can say in my defense is that I was much younger, rather full of myself and somewhat stupid. Well, extremely stupid.” He paused. “You may object, should you feel the need.”
“Oh, no, please continue.”
It was rather fun, making Evan pay, as it were, for the rudeness of his youth. There was a time when she never would have thrown his vile behavior back in his face. But she was not the same girl he had ignored all those years ago. It wasn’t so much that she had blossomed as she had simply come into her own, aged like a fine wine. When she had first come out in society, she had been one of those vast numbers of girls who were not so pretty as to catch the eye of every available gentleman, but not so dull as to be considered a true wallflower. Admittedly, that changed with every passing season as her prospects for marriage grew dimmer. There was hope for Violet, her mother had often said, if only Violet would pay more attention to her appearance and at least pretend to enjoy flirtatious chatter and social occasions even if she thought such things inane. No, much to Mother’s annoyance, Violet preferred her own company and the solitude to write bad poetry or read Lord Byron’s works or ride alone. No wonder men like Lord Westmont tended to overlook her.
Those days were past. Years of travel abroad, meeting fascinating people and having assorted adventures had polished her. Provided her with the kind of confidence one could only acquire from living life. And she knew it. She was not the girl she used to be. Nearly six years of a separated marriage was enough to change anyone. As well as force them to grow up and discard silly thoughts of love and romance and other such nonsense.
“And I was rather shallow as well it appears.” Genuine regret shone in his eyes. Perhaps she wasn’t the only one who had changed. “Once again, my apologies for my thoughtless behavior. But tonight, I do think you are the loveliest, as well as most interesting, woman in the room.”
“And tonight, my lord,” she said, and smiled up at him, “I will believe you.”
“Am I forgiven then?”
“Perhaps.”
He laughed then sobered. “Why don’t you come back to England more often? Allow me to make up for the past.”
“I am considering it.”
He gazed into her eyes and smiled. “Good.”
She returned his smile but was not so foolish as to believe his words. Evan was an outrageous flirt and Violet had no intention of becoming any man’s conquest.
In spite of any number of admittedly silly concerns, it was good to be back in London. It was always good to come home. Although the house in Mayfair she resided in when she was in the city was scarcely home. But as it was her husband’s house, it was hers, as well. She refused to stay with her parents. Returning to the house of her girlhood
