Page 83 of How to Start a Scandal

Violet sat before her dressing mirror as Susan curled the last of Violet’s dark locks with heating tongs in preparation for the simple coif she’d chosen for the wedding.

Violet glanced at the blank corner of her room where the silver gown used to stand in reminder of her failure. Like her father, Seth had declared his desire to burn the thing, but Violet had insisted it be set up in her new suite.

This request had been made during a walk in Hyde Park together as Seth had refused to see Violet alone until their wedding. Though he knew she was not a virgin, he would not bring himself to take her until they were wed.

A knock sounded at the door.

Susan carefully set the tongs down and gave a little squeal of delight. Violet gave her maid a curious look as Susan rushed to the door, opened it and returned with a wide box in her arms. ‘For you, Lady Violet.’

Violet got up from her seat and went to the bed where Susan had laid the box.

A note was on top with careful writing.

For you to wear or keep or burn as you so desire.

I want only your happiness, now and for ever.

All my love,

Seth

All his love. He had proclaimed that love with a vehemence that had stunned her when he’d proposed to her. And despite the considerable affection she held for him, she had been too much of a coward to tell him how much she loved him.

She had been hopeful about marriage and love too many times over. First with Seth when they were younger, then Lord Fordson, then again with Seth. It had been a miscommunication, yes, but his initial reaction to her past had cut her to the quick and left her with the pathetic need to secure a guard around her heart.

Experience had taught her it was far too fragile.

Violet lifted the lid off the box and sucked in a breath. The silver gown was nestled in a cloud of tissue paper. Seth had not only given her the hope for happiness in the future, he had given her the silver gown back. The gesture was marvellously considerate.

She cast a look to Susan, who just kept grinning.

‘Do you want to wear it, my lady?’ Susan asked.

‘Yes, I do,’ Violet said softly.

The maid set to work, fastening Violet into the silver gown. The panelling at the sides to make it a size larger had been expertly inserted and was nearly imperceptible. Violet made her way to the cheval mirror by her wardrobe. The skirts rustled as she walked, whispering of the dreams she’d once had when she’d put it on order at the modiste six years ago.

Those dreams were now being realised. Finally.

She stared into the mirror and ran her hands over the fitted bodice. It was every bit as beautiful as she’d imagined it would be. She’d never had the opportunity to put it on, always being slightly too large to fasten it regardless of how much she’d starved herself.

She turned to the side, marvelling at the delicate pleating in the skirts, how the waist nipped in at the middle and the way the top hugged her breasts in an elegant but enticing manner. Seth would approve most enthusiastically of that last bit.

Seth. He had been her friend when she’d been a lonely child in London, a flirtation when she’d been on the cusp of womanhood and nothing more than a dream when her world had shattered. He’d come back into her broken life and helped her make it whole again.

‘Oh, my lady,’ Susan breathed. ‘It’s lovely.’

‘It is,’ Violet agreed. ‘Please take it off now.’

Susan’s elation faded. ‘I beg your pardon?’

‘This gown has represented failure for far too long.’ Violet put her back to her maid. ‘I prefer to begin my married life in a gown ready for new memories rather than one stained with old ones.’

‘I rather like that.’ Susan set to work unfastening the back of Violet’s gown.

Violet looked to the dressmaker’s form, now adorned in an elegant frock of pale blue silk with small puffed sleeves and a skirt that swept the floor behind her as she walked. It was simple and complemented her colouring. ‘I do, too.’

Susan helped her out of the silver gown and folded it back into the modiste’s box. The blue gown went on easily and floated against Violet’s skin like a whisper. How would it feel as it slid from her skin and puddled on the floor? A chill of anticipation prickled over her. Soon, she would be wed and, not long after, she would be alone with Seth. In the privacy of his master suite in Dalton Place where most of Violet’s belongings had already been relocated.