Page 85 of Only a Mistress Will Do

Stifling a laugh once more, Violet mouthed a word. “Privy?”

“Have you checked the privy, Betsy? She may have gone down there.”

“Oh, no, m’lord. I came straight to ye. I’ll run right down and see. I hope to goodness that’s where she is.” Her footfalls hurried away.

Tris moved the chair, cocked his head toward the door, waited a beat, then cracked it open. “She’s gone.” He shut the door and leaned on it, exhaling. “Quick, before she returns.”

Laughing softly, Violet threw back the covers, wincing as the cold air pricked up gooseflesh all over her body. Every hair must be standing on end. “Where’s my gown?” She slid out of bed and padded toward him.

He retrieved it from the floor and dropped it over her head. The regret in his eyes as it covered her body warmed her better than the fabric. He pulled her close, his kiss urgent and lingering.

“Tris, I must go.” She broke the kiss, little as she wished to.

He sighed and nodded, chaffing her arms as though loathe to lose touch with her.

“Shall I order breakfast laid in the parlor?” They could be together, just not in bed.

“Please.” He cupped her cheek and she gloried in his warmth. “I’ll dress and be there directly.”

She nodded, then flung her arms around him, pulling his head down for one last kiss.

At last he broke them apart, pushing her away and breathing hard. “Go now before I throw you back in that bed.”

A floorboard creaked in the corridor.

“Damn. Go!” He wrenched the door open and Violet sped out of the room, no thought for who might be about. Fortunately, at this early an hour, few stirred.

She crossed to her room in two swift strides. What a morning. Before she entered she turned back to Tris’s door. What a night. Humming, she continued into her room, stripped off her gown and darted behind the screen to wash. By this evening she wouldn’t have to sneak into Tris’s room, thank God.

The door opened.

“Oh, miss. Wherever can ye be?” The maid’s soft plaintive cry hung in the air.

“I’m here, Betsy,” she called, trying to put the right amount of nonchalance into her voice.

“Oh, Miss Carlton!” Betsy popped her head around the screen.

Startled, Violet attempted to unsuccessfully cover her nakedness with her hands.

The girl had dressed in haste, her cap askew, apron hanging to the side of her skirt. “Wherever have ye been, miss? I been searching for ye all morning long.”

“I went down to the privy earlier. You were still asleep. Then I came back up here, just now, but you had gone.” Violet grasped the pitcher. “Can you fetch me some warm water? The cold is brisker than I thought.”

“Of course, miss.” Betsy seized the pitcher and disappeared.

“And please order breakfast laid in the parlor for me and Lord Trevor. I’ll step across and invite him as soon as I’m dressed.”

“Very good, miss.”

The door closed and Violet slumped. She simply wasn’t cut out for a life of intrigue.

Chapter 32

Tris sat savoring his coffee after a very enjoyable breakfast. Not that he could say exactly what he had eaten; it could have been shoe leather for all he cared. His full attention had been taken up with staring at the beautiful woman across the table from him, the wonder that she would soon be his wife stealing all awareness of the food placed before him. Which brought them to the next matter. “If you are quite done, my dear, we have an errand to attend to.”

Violet beamed at him over her teacup. Her eyes were rimmed with dark circles, testament to the lack of sleep they’d gotten. Still, the glow in those amber orbs sent a bolt of desire straight to his groin. They’d get precious little sleep for a long time to come after the wedding. “Where are we going, Tris?” She set her cup in the saucer and clasped his hand. “I’d hoped we might…rest a while after breakfast.” The rush of pink to her cheeks belied that resting was on her mind.

“Perhaps we may ‘rest’ this afternoon, love,” he said with a rueful smile. “This morning I propose we seek out the parish vicar and arrange to be married as soon as Duncan arrives with the special license.”