Page 59 of Only a Mistress Will Do

A shattering pain struck her heart. To see him, knowing him beyond her reach, would cause agonies enough. To see the woman who would be his wife smile at him, look adoringly at him, take his arm by right, and show her possession of him might be more than she could bear. Her body ached, every muscle tensed against the pain. No, she would send to Tris tomorrow telling him to thank Lord Downing, but she must refuse his kind offer.

“Susan,” she called. The maid hovered incessantly these days, never out of earshot. As though she expected her mistress to vanish, like a magician’s assistant. Of course, she had good reason to do so.

Sure enough, before the echo of her name faded, Susan appeared. “Yes, miss?”

“Fetch my pen and ink, please.”

Once the girl had gone, Violet sat to the harpsichord, fidgeting with the keys. She worried her bottom lip, pulling it until it bled. Trish would be furious with her. They’d been waiting for just such a respectable position for so long. It offered the chance to go on with her life with honor. Did she have the right to refuse it?

“Here it is, miss.” Susan laid pen, inkpot, and paper on the top of the spinet, the creamy sheet a stark contrast to the shining dark wood.

Violet nodded and flexed her fingers. She’d been practicing all morning. Her fingers should be limber by now, yet they acted stiff as pikes. “Thank you, Susan,” she said, giving a wave of dismissal. She would write this letter alone.

“Shall I pack your belongings, Miss Carlton?”

Violet jerked her head up, the pen tumbling from her fingers. “How did you know I’m to leave, Susan?” Had her maid been snooping in her mail?

“Lord Trevor sent a note instructing me to pack your clothes and accompany you to Devizes, miss.” Susan peered oddly at her. “Has he told you differently?”

“No, I…I’d simply no idea he’d written you as well.” Then he assumed she’d take the position, expected her to take it. A wave of sadness washed over her. This truly was the end of his relations with her. She must take it with as good a grace as she could muster and move on.

Straightening in her chair, her back now like a ramrod, she grabbed the pen and dipped it in the ink so furiously drops flew willy-nilly across the spinet. “Here.” She scribbled a dozen words, blew across the paper, folded it and handed it to Susan. “Have Thomas post this immediately. Tell him to make sure it is on the next mail coach to Wiltshire.” She thrust it into the maid’s hands as if it burned her.

Through narrowed eyes, Susan shifted her attention from her mistress to the letter.

“As soon as Thomas is off, come to my chamber. We have much to do if I am to leave tomorrow.” The catch in her voice hurt abominably.

“Very good, miss.” The girl stared at her dry-eyed, but her lips trembled. A nod and she hurried from the room.

Violet rose from the bench, an air of unreality descending on her. She would leave tomorrow, never to return. Her hand rested on the polished wood of the spinet and she rubbed over the smooth, shiny surface lovingly. She would miss it so much. She cursed herself for being a terrible coward. Rather than bend to his will she should have been able to stand firm and sever the ties between them. If such a thing were even possible.

* * * *

The raging fire in the formal drawing room at Harper’s Grange had done its job too well. Violet stood before Lord and Lady Downing, beads of perspiration trickling between her breasts. Her hands, however, anchored in the folds of her sapphire blue gown to keep them from trembling, were icy.

“Miss Carlton? You are Lord Trevor’s cousin, I believe he said?” Lord Downing’s bushy gray eyebrows rose slightly.

“A distant relationship, my lord. Although he has been kind enough to assist me in my search for a position.” Violet smiled then thought better of it for fear his lordship might think her frivolous. His stern visage certainly held no such sign. “The death of my grandmother left me quite alone.”

Lady Downing, however, a fluttering bird-like woman in dove gray who perched on the edge of the sofa, gave her a wavering smile. “Lord Trevor is such a thoughtful young man.”

“Let us be to the point, Miss Carlton.” Lord Downing broke in, giving his wife a withering look. “Have you prior experience with children? I would not wish to place my only grandchild in the hands of an unqualified governess.”

His lordship’s narrow nose and thin lips sent a shiver of foreboding cascading down Violet’s back. Still, she must forget everything except securing this position. Planting her feet firmly, she met Lord Downing’s eyes. “This will be the first such position for which I have applied, my lord. Until earlier this year I was companion to my grandmother, Lady Crenshaw.”

“Edwina Crenshaw?” Lady Downing broke in excitedly. “I hadn’t heard she had died.”

“No, my lady. Her first name was Aurelia. She was the widow of Sir Robert Crenshaw, of Headley Hall in Essex.” Fervently, Violet prayed her ladyship was not acquainted with her grandmother. If she could keep them from finding out about the scandal with her brother, she’d have a much better chance of securing this position. They hadn’t seemed to recognize her name, which boded well for keeping that secret.

“Oh.” Lady Downing looked disappointed, but shook her head. “No, I am afraid we were not acquainted.”

Violet released a grateful breath. “She became increasingly reclusive after my grandfather’s death almost twenty years ago. I cared for her until her death in March. After a suitable period of mourning, I contacted Lord Trevor for assistance.”

Lady Downing tapped her lips with her forefinger. “Did I not see you at the Braeton’s Christmas ball?”

“Yes, my lady, you may indeed have.” Violet’s stomach twisted, but she forced herself to maintain a pleasant demeanor. “I had made the acquaintance of Miss Forsythe earlier in the season. She asked her cousin, Lady Braeton, to invite me.” Dreading where the conversation seemed to be heading, she cast her gaze to the floor.

“Trying to secure a title, Miss Carlton?” His black eyes staring her down, Lord Downing leaned back on the sofa, his lips twisted in a smirk.