Page 43 of How to Start a Scandal

Violet tilted her head towards the mirror and caught the glint of the aforementioned colours in the glass.

Imagine that.

‘Now tell me what you don’t like,’ Lottie said.

That took no thought whatsoever. ‘My body, the thickness of my brows, my upturned nose, how I look in—’

‘Your upturned nose?’ Lottie shook her head and stood behind Violet. ‘Your nose is perfect, your brows are wonderfully shaped and add expression to your face, and your body is not at all what you think.’

Violet slid her gaze from the mirror.

‘It is en mode at present to be ridiculously thin, yes, but it is not worth starving yourself over,’ Lottie continued. ‘You have a lovely figure with a slender waist and a full bosom. I am candid in my lessons, you must understand. Believe me when I tell you that men love breasts.’

Violet’s eyes went wide, and Lottie laughed. The sound was sweet and gentle, not at all mocking. ‘I assure you, Lady Violet, you will captivate any man who takes the time to speak with you. You happen to have a particularly nice décolletage.’

Violet regarded her figure in the mirror once more. The tops of her breasts rose round and full over the neckline of her gown. She’d always hated it, thinking it as extra flesh squishing up from her clothing.

‘Has the gentleman you fancy happened to glance down more than once?’ Lottie asked. ‘Even the good ones can’t help themselves from taking a peek or two.’

Violet recalled how Seth’s gaze had lingered on her bosom, how he’d cupped her breasts and groaned. Her cheeks burned at the realisation and Lottie laughed again.

‘I knew it!’ She spun Violet around and beamed at her. ‘Darling, you must admit that you are far comelier than you’ve duped yourself into thinking all these years.’

‘I suppose it isn’t as bad as I had assumed,’ Violet conceded.

‘No,’ Lottie said earnestly. ‘It is far, far better. You are beautiful, Violet, and I do not mean that as a platitude. I mean it with the utmost sincerity. I have no doubt your gentleman did, too.’

A smile spread over Violet’s lips. All at once the crinkles of anxiety smoothed from her mind. Seth had told her he thought her beautiful the night of her debut, that he’d wanted to kiss her.

‘Thank you.’ Violet beamed a smile at Lottie, grateful that the burden of humiliation and doubt had been plucked from her chest the way one might remove a stone from their shoe.

A vase of hothouse flowers stood behind Lottie. A new one, filled with pink and red tulips. ‘From a friend?’ Violet asked with a smile.

Lottie regarded the flowers with a sigh. ‘A friend who is rather insistent, I’m afraid. One I wish I could welcome back into my life.’

‘It’s complicated,’ Violet surmised.

Lottie gave a sad smile. ‘Not all past hurts can be healed with time.’

Violet understood exactly. All the time in the world would not change what she’d done with Lord Fordson. It certainly would not undo her actions and make her pure once more.

Lady Cotsworth’s ball had been as awful as Seth had anticipated. Worse. He hadn’t lasted beyond the first set. As before, it had been too hot, too crowded, too bright. He’d had no distractions to take the tension from his mind.

Now, he paced his bedchamber and ran a hand through his hair. The footfalls of his shoes were silent on the thick carpet.

At least he was alone. Bennet had been fluttering around him like a nervous hen. But then, William’s former valet was a little too attentive in his duties. Too eager to please.

Ghosts edged into Seth’s thoughts—Brent’s bright blue eyes, afraid in that fraction of a moment before his life had ended. Brave. Selfless. Death.

A knot of emotion lodged in Seth’s throat.

It should have been him, damn it.

He lifted his glass of brandy and hurled it at the fireplace in a surge of rageful energy. The glass hit the hearth and shattered into pieces as the liquid flared in the flames.

It should have been him.

He sank on to a leather chair before the broad fireplace and cradled his head in his hands, squeezing, as if he could crush the images from his thoughts.