Page 55 of How to Start a Scandal

‘Yes.’ His head sagged forward. ‘This is my worst self, a part of me I don’t know that can ever change. I am uncertain if I will always loathe attending social functions because of what emerges from my mind. I may be haunted for ever by memories of men who died too soon, too violently. Especially the man who died for me.’

This was the part of his confession he’d dreaded the most. He’d had it in his mind earlier that night to try to convince her to allow him to court her, not discourage her.

‘I wanted you to know this in your consideration.’ He looked away as that damn ache returned to his throat. ‘I’m a broken man, Violet. I do not know that I can ever be made whole. I think it only fair you ought to be aware of this as you make your decision. I’ll never deserve a woman like you.’

She didn’t say anything for a long moment. Finally, he turned to study her face in the moonlight and found silent tears running down her cheeks. She blinked at them and swiped her cheeks with the back of her fingers.

The double doors opened and Lady Hollingston stood in the doorway, a foreboding shadow backlit by the soirée. A reminder they had lingered too long outside.

The Countess cleared her throat noisily, calling attention to how close they were standing together.

Violet drew back and cast a regretful look towards her mother. ‘The garden. Tonight. I’ll give you my answer then.’ She swept her hands over her face, clearing away the remnants of her tears.

He inclined his head, knowing the answer he deserved and selfishly hoping against it. ‘I’ll watch for you.’

She offered him a quick curtsy and swiftly made her way back into the soirée, pausing once to glance at him over her shoulder.

He had not expected his words to sway her towards a swift yes, yet her lack of an answer had struck him deeper than anticipated. It would be better when they were alone, without having to be concerned with potential interruption.

Now came the worst part: the waiting.

Violet was not outside in her garden more than a moment when the rear door to Dalton Place opened. Her heart leapt into her throat and she spun towards the sound.

Seth.

He strode towards her, wearing only his shirtsleeves and breeches, no hat upon his head or gloves on his hands. His gait was sure and confident, not at all the man who had been cracking at the seams only hours ago.

He made his way to the gap in the hedges and stepped on to her property.

He offered a small bow. ‘Good evening, my lady.’ His voice was silky smooth in a way she found she rather liked.

‘Lord Dalton.’ She stepped forward in the dark and took his hands in hers, pulling him towards the shadows where they wouldn’t be seen.

He followed her, looming over her, so masculine and powerful. But she knew how vulnerable he could be and it endeared him to her all the more.

‘You left after I went inside,’ she accused. ‘I didn’t see you again.’

‘I don’t relish social events.’ He stroked her cheek with the back of his hand. ‘I only attended to see you.’

After what he’d told her, she understood why he didn’t enjoy social events, yet he had still gone. For her.

‘I have your answer.’ Had her voice trembled as she spoke? She hoped not, but was nearly certain it had. Her nerves tangled on themselves and left her practically rattling.

This was dangerous. Impulsive. No, she’d thought far too much about it for her decision to be considered impulsive.

It was, however, a great risk.

Courting more often than not led to marriage. Perhaps this time together would show her that Seth had not changed from the reckless youth after all. Perhaps she would realise she’d been a fool to lose her heart to him.

But maybe she would realise he was exactly the man she feared he had become, one who could sweep her off her feet and make her fall in love.

Definitely dangerous.

He was gazing down at her with expectation.

She had wanted to say no. It would have been safer, a guarantee that her secret would remain safe. But learning how imperfect he was had swayed her.

He had shown her his best self when he came to ask her if she would allow him to court her, with his hair immaculately tamed and wearing his finest clothes. But it was his worst self, as he’d called it, that had drawn her.