Page 33 of How to Start a Scandal

‘I cared.’ Violet broke propriety and looked up at him.

It was a brief moment, one broken by the quadrille that had them dancing forward to meet the couple opposite them. But it had been enough to see the raw emotion etched in his eyes. Regret.

The music brought them together long enough to take a turn, but nothing substantial enough to allow conversation. Violet’s stomach clenched with anticipation when their part was done and they could once more return to the side while the other couples made their way into the centre to dance.

‘Please, Lady Violet.’ There was a pleading note in Lord Dalton’s tone. ‘I must know. Tell me what I did.’

‘I... I can’t.’ It was hard to breathe suddenly, with the press of her raw heart against her lungs. ‘Not here.’

‘Where, then?’ he asked. ‘The garden?’ His suggestion came in a lowered voice, meant only for her. As it should. What he suggested was no chance encounter, but a request to meet alone. Unchaperoned.

Such things could ruin a lady’s reputation and she’d worked too hard to keep hers intact regardless of whether it was deserved or not. She should say no.

But she didn’t.

‘Yes,’ she whispered.

Her pulse quickened at her audacious agreement to his brazen invitation. She would be alone with him. Again.

Except this time, instead of a kiss, he was asking for her to bare her soul and put one of her deepest scars on full display. And she would do it. For him. Regardless of the nip of worry in the back of her mind. She’d been honest when she’d confessed to him that he was dangerous.

Even knowing this, she could not stay away.

Chapter Ten

Seth’s heartbeat slammed with a tangle of eagerness and nerves and fear. Violet would be with him in the garden later, alone. To finally share what he had done the night of her debut. His energy ran high with anticipation, like when he charged on to the battlefield with his men behind him and the enemy in front.

Only this time, he was the enemy. Or rather, the man he used to be was. The egocentric wastrel who was content to throw his coin away and into dirty pint glasses, weighted game tables and painted women. That man was the one who had hurt Violet.

The current man was the one who walked the tenuous line between making it right and trying to keep his distance. All for her benefit.

And as he’d faced his enemy, he would now face what he’d done and endeavour to do what he could to make it right.

The remainder of his conversation with Violet through the dance had been lighter by comparison, comprised of Felicity’s latest antics, Hedgehog’s many dashes for freedom and rather agreeable shared recollections on their childhood antics. It was by far one of the most enjoyable conversations Seth had shared with anyone since his return to London.

The elevation to his mood remained after he returned Lady Violet to Lady Hollingston, who practically oozed with flattery upon his arrival. It was then he saw Rawley on the opposite side of the room from Caroline.

Seth had anticipated the two would be near one another constantly. If not dancing, then flirting. Why else would anyone attend Almack’s if not to participate in one of those two activities?

He made his way through the crowd towards Rawley. The exertion of bodies dancing combined with the candles lit throughout the room left the air hot and thick. The ghosts of war whispered at him from the shadowed corners of his mind and sweat tingled at his brow.

He balled his hand into a fist.

Damn it. He was a soldier. A man who’d fought for his men’s lives, for his country—and lived. Memories would not defeat him. For that was all they were: memories. Things of the past.

He breathed in slowly and concentrated on thoughts of Violet. The way she’d looked in her garden when he’d been about to kiss her, eyes closed with her long, dark lashes fanning across her cheeks, her supple pink mouth soft with expectation. How he’d wanted to pull her against him, to allow years’ worth of desire to consume him. In his mind, he trailed his mouth down her throat while cupping a full breast in his hand, his thumb grazing a naked nipple.

His groin stirred and he brought his fantasy to an abrupt halt. Damn it. He’d almost gone too far. The last thing he needed was to lose his voucher to Almack’s for offending the patronesses with an obvious erection.

His mother would certainly never let him live that one down.

Rawley stood only a few feet from Seth. A perfect distraction. He waved to his friend and approached. ‘I’d have wagered you’d be spending most the evening with Caroline,’ Seth said.

Rawley glanced away and brushed at the lapel of his jacket, as if it was not already perfect. ‘Yes. I meant to approach her.’

‘Meant to approach her?’ Seth frowned. ‘So you’ve not even bade her good evening yet?’

Rawley dipped a finger into his cravat and pulled it from his throat. ‘I meant to,’ he repeated.