Page 23 of Only a Mistress Will Do

“You will not entertain those thoughts, my girl,” she scolded herself as she swept the music from the stand and stacked it on the music chest. Any thought of Tristan other than as a friend or protector would lead to nothing but disappointment or worse. Life was seldom fair. Best for her to acknowledge that and find a way to move on, despite the ache in her heart each time she saw him.

“Penny for your thoughts.”

She whirled around to face Tristan, standing in the doorway, so handsome in a rust and jade striped jacket she had to catch hold of the chest as her heart beat wildly. “You of course.” She tried her best to sound flippant and flirtatious.

“Indeed.” His brows rose, a mischievous twinkle in the blue eyes. “Wondering if I’d abandoned you completely because of the glorious weather?” He nodded toward the widow and the brilliant sunshine that drenched the small back garden.

“Hardly.” Steadying herself, she walked nonchalantly toward him. “You’ve been as faithful as a puppy, visiting me every evening. I wouldn’t blame you if you had more interesting things to do than have dinner with me.” The afternoon shadows had scarcely begun to creep across the yard. “You’re very early today, however. Does that mean you have news?” Elation warred with despair. If he’d been successful she’d soon be on her way to her employer and out of his life.

“It just so happens I do. And it was such a lovely day, quite exceptional for early December, wouldn’t you say, I thought you might venture out in the carriage with me?” He grinned broadly and a dimple appeared in his left cheek. “Show off one of those devilishly pretty gowns, perhaps?”

Violet squealed and threw her arms around him. “Oh, yes, Tris. Thank you, thank you! I would love to go riding with you.” She let go reluctantly, aware as always of how good he felt pressed against her. “I confess I’d been fretting because I couldn’t go out. The beautiful weather just made it worse. You are an answer to a prayer.” As he’d always been. She stood on tiptoe and brushed a kiss on his cheek.

Heat sizzled as her lips touched him. The shock rippled through her, rocking her back on her heels. Had he felt that?

His jaw tightened, and his eyes, so blue at first, now darkest black with desire. Her own eyes must be as dark.

She dropped her gaze and stepped back.

“Violet.” His hoarse whisper rasped in her ears, tempting her to stay and appease their mutual hunger.

“Let me fetch my cloak and bonnet.” Quickly, she backed away from him, then turned and fled the room, pounding up the stairs as though a fiend nipped at her heels. Dear God, she needed to leave this house, leave him before her willpower snapped and she did something disastrous they would glory in and regret.

* * * *

Tris clenched his fist, fighting the urge to run after her, seize her and give in to the passion raging within them both. He breathed in slowly, willing the storm to pass. God, the past week had been torture. Sitting across the dinner table from Violet, watching spellbound as she sipped her wine, or laughed, or teased him. He seemed to hang on her every movement, like a besotted stripling with his first lass. As soon as that became apparent, he should have stopped the visits. However, like a reckless moth compelled toward the blaze with the ultimate power to destroy it, he had returned again and again, fluttering closer and closer to her entrancing flame. Now he teetered on the verge. A touch, a kiss, hell, a smoldering look from those amber eyes might push him off the precipice into an act of unspeakable folly. One night he’d dreamed of marching into Lord Downing’s study to break the betrothal and awoken in a cold sweat. Society’s censure in such a case would be absolute. No honorable man would jilt an innocent woman, thus destroying her reputation. He’d end up a pariah. But he’d have Violet.

Tris headed for the brandy decanter, pleased it had been refilled. Thomas had promise as a butler if he had an eye for such details. After two healthy gulps, the excellent vintage managed to relieve some of the tension that had him tied in knots. He breathed slowly, stretching out the hand he had curled into a fist. Perfectly steady. That was a wonder. He wouldn’t have wagered a sixpence on it.

“I’m ready.” Violet appeared in the doorway, her black velvet cloak covering her from neck to floor. When she moved, however, the vivid blue silk of her new gown peeped out, giving an enticing glimpse of her full breasts.

Angelique was taking too much time with this order, damn it. He’d wanted Violet outfitted completely by the end of this week. Especially crucial as he’d had to abandon his first plan to find her employment. Between the holiday distractions and his reluctance to apply to any close friends or family who might know the circumstances of James Carlton’s death, he’d had no luck at all turning up a post for either a governess or companion. As a result, he’d had to contemplate another way to provide for Violet. This outing served a twofold purpose—to give her a much needed respite from the looming walls of her gilded cage, and to introduce her to the alternate plan of action. One he hated to consider, yet by far the best choice for her.

“You look stunning, my dear. Heads will turn, mark my words.”

“Ha. The sensible people have all returned to their comfortable estates for their Christmas revelry. There will be no one in the park to pay me a bit of mind.” She secured her hat to her head with a wicked-looking pin whose jeweled end glinted with small sapphires and diamonds.

Another most inappropriate gift from him, but he couldn’t help himself.

“I’ll wager you nonetheless. How about…” It was on the tip of his tongue to say “a kiss.’ Too dangerous by half.

“I know. A trip to the theatre,” Violet broke in, her eyes sparkling.

“Done. If you win, I will take you to Drury Lane next week. If I win, however…” He paused, staring at her lips and sighed. “If I win, I demand a musical performance in which you exhibit your great talents. Just for me.”

A charming blush tinted her cheeks and she smiled. “Very well, it is a wager.” She leaned forward, hand outstretched as if for a handshake. At the last second she glanced at his face and abruptly withdrew it.

It was as well. Much as he desired her touch, he could only stand so much skin-to-skin contact. “Let us go, my dear. The park awaits.” He offered his arm, praying the clothing between them would act as a sufficient shield.

Once seated in his phaeton, he drew a lap robe over her and gathered the ribbons. The high perch allowed them to look down on the world, a vantage point he had always secretly enjoyed. Hyde Park was a little distance from Lammas House, but they should arrive in good time to meet some of the fashionable set.

Violet sat on the edge of the seat, her neck constantly craning to catch the sights of London as they sped by. The sun glinted on the stands of her chestnut hair, turning them as gold as the autumn leaves that lingered on the ground here and there. She raised her chin and laughed as the cool air brought roses to her cheeks.

Tris swallowed hard, her beauty overwhelming him once more. Pray God others saw it as well.

“Thank you so much for this lovely treat,” she said, tucking the robe more securely around her as they approached the park entrance. “I confess I’ve longed for just a bit of adventure this past week. This outing is a blessing.”

“I’m very happy to oblige you, my dear.” Tris turned the horses onto the well-used lane. In the distance, several carriages headed toward them. Perhaps his scheme would work after all. “Excellent luck.” He nodded at the approaching vehicles. “I’m hoping to introduce you to some of my acquaintances this afternoon.”