Page 12 of Most Sought-After Scoundrel in London (Wicked Widows League #31)
“ Y ou are awfully quiet today, Lady Violet,” Lord Hadfield said as he walked alongside her.
She had been summoned by the Head PORF after breakfast. Claiming he preferred to think outdoors, Lord Hadfield led her out to the gardens.
“I'm worried. There are challenges with my solution to your problem that Lord Hurlington and I have yet to resolve,” she admitted, leaving out the fact that she’d slept little and was experiencing a rather terrible headache.
“If you would like, you could share those difficulties with me and perhaps I can be of assistance.” Lord Hadfield’s emphasis on “I” made Violet glance up at the gentleman, whom, prior to the house party, she had considered cold and aloof.
Lord Hadfield was far from her original assessment.
In the fortnight she’d spent under his roof, she had seen the man take on multiple roles; the Head PORF was a loving husband, a fun yet fair father, and an excellent leader.
How he juggled all his roles with grace was impressive.
The only person better in her estimation was Cameron, who was genuinely the most patient and understanding man she’d ever met.
“Lady Violet? Can I be of help to you?” Lord Hadfield repeated.
Banishing her thoughts of Cameron, she refocused on the discussion at hand. “Shall I start with what my idea is first and then explain the challenges we face in implementing it?”
“You could. However, I’m more concerned about you and the issues you and Hurlington have yet to address.” Lord Hadfield gave her a smile before stopping to smell the blooms.
Holding a conversation with a barrister was always a challenge, and even trickier when said barrister was a master of wordplay. Violet replayed Lord Hadfield’s last words, which only confused her more. Oh, how she wished it were Lady Bronwyn next to her and not her husband.
As if she had summoned her, Lady Bronwyn appeared down the path and marched toward them. Violet released the breath she hadn’t realized she had been holding, garnering a chuckle from Lord Hadfield.
“Apparently, I still need to continue to improve my communication skills, or is it my body language that sets you on edge?” Lord Hadfield asked in a tone that bordered on teasing and true curiosity.
“Good morn to you, my love.” Lady Bronwyn rolled to her toes as her husband bent to meet her halfway to receive a kiss on his cheek. A healthy glow brightened Lady Bronwyn’s fine features, and Violet looked upon the loving couple in awe.
Lady Bronwyn turned her husband toward the house and gave him a light shove. “Off with you. The staff are awaiting your orders for our departure tomorrow.”
Lord Hadfield took a few steps forward before he walked backward and said, “I hope to prove myself worthy of your trust, Lady Violet.”
Violet stood, digesting the PORF’s departing words as his wife linked arms with her and said, “You are wise, Lady Violet. Trust must be earned not given blindly.” Her hostess gave her a serious wink as they began to walk along the garden path.
“And have I earned your trust?” Violet asked.
“A long time ago. I’m ashamed to admit it, however. It took us and the Network some time to figure out how to best recruit you. Thankfully, we managed.”
Violet matched Lady Bronwyn’s pace, which was a tad slower than when they had previously strolled about.
Finally ready to share her progress, Violet heaved in deeply.
“You wished for Lord Hurlington and me to conceive a method by which messages could be sent widely to members of the Network or PORFs. What if a code was encrypted in already existing pieces of music or existing lyrics? Songs that people are already familiar with, to not draw unnecessary attention.”
“Interesting.”
It wasn’t a resounding commendation or really much of a response.
Violet let the word hang in the air as she nervously gnawed on the inside of her lip.
If her idea was rejected, did that mean she’d be denied membership to the Network?
Would she be expected to return to London and resume her routine of living from verse to verse?
Was Cameron’s offer of marriage contingent upon her becoming a member of the Network?
When Lady Bronwyn stopped at the foot of the terrace steps, Violet was taken aback that they had already returned to the house, her mind lost in endless questions.
Summoning her courage, Violet asked, “Do you believe it is a plausible solution?”
“I do.” Lady Bronwyn patted Violet’s arm. “I knew you could do it.”
“But I can’t. I’ve no knowledge of cryptography.”
With a reassuring smile, Lady Bronwyn said, “But I know of someone who can. And she will be thrilled to attempt something new.”
“She?” How thrilling it was to know that there were women who possessed skills and positions that she had presumed were only occupied by and appointed to men.
“Just as I will protect your identity and role in the Network, the identities of others are also on a need-to-know basis.” Lady Bronwyn glanced up the stairs to the terrace doors. “Before we return to the house, is there any other matter you would like to discuss with me?”
“Does this mean I’m officially part of the Network now?”
“Not officially. You still have to meet and gain the approval of the Network Council. However, with Hurlington’s and my endorsement, there shouldn’t be an issue.” Lady Bronwyn gave her another reassuring pat and then arched an eyebrow at her.
Should she bring up the true reason for her sleepless night? Without Lady Bertha and the other wicked widows to consult with, Violet was at a loss as to how best to untangle her convoluted and conflicting emotions. “There is a matter that has me at a loss.”
“Shall we return to the gardens or would you prefer to discuss the matter over a nice cup of tea?”
Normally, she would choose a brisk walk to help clear her mind, but a warm beverage sounded like heaven to her bone-weary mind. “Tea in the drawing room sounds lovely.”
With a knowing smile, her host walked steadily next to her as they climbed the stairs and entered the warmly decorated drawing room through the terrace doors.
Lady Bronwyn rang for tea, and as they waited for the maid to return, Violet made herself comfortable on the settee facing the windows.
Not knowing how best to broach the subject, she sat in silence, and thankfully, her hostess was happy to wait.
Tea and scones were delivered, and Lady Bronwyn poured the steaming brew into two cups. “Two lumps of sugar. No cream.” Her hostess handed Violet a cup and saucer and sat back down to sip on her own cup of tea, which Violet noted only contained tea. No sugar. No cream.
She filed away the information for later. The brief reprieve from thoughts of Cameron was a reminder of how hard it was to banish the man from her mind.
Lady Bertha always advised to plunge right in when broaching a difficult topic, and so Violet asked, “How do you know if you are in love?”
“Ahh, as I suspected, a topic that requires a rather large pot of strong tea.” Lady Bronwyn took another sip before setting her beverage on the side table. “Unfortunately, there is no one right answer.”
“I guessed as much.” Violet sighed. Nothing was ever simple.
Lady Bronwyn scooted to the edge of the wing back chair and reached out to take Violet’s hands. “May I inquire as to what is troubling you the most?”
At the earnest concern shown by Lady Bronwyn’s body language, Violet’s defenses crumbled, leaving her vulnerable. “What if we return to London and Lord Hurlington’s feelings for me change?”
Lady Bronwyn’s lips thinned and then puckered as she sat deep in thought for a moment. Violet’s heart raced as the seconds passed in silence.
“Is it really Hurlington’s feelings that you are worried may change or your own?”
Caught completely off guard by the lady’s reply, Violet snapped her head up to meet the clear, all-too-intuitive gaze of Lady Bronwyn.
Squeezing Violet’s hands, Lady Bronwyn asked, “Let me rephrase that. Are you questioning if your feelings for Hurlington are simply a result of spending so much time in one another’s company?”
“Now that you pose my conundrum in that manner, you might be correct. Am I the one confused, or am I truly concerned that once I’m out of sight, Lord Hurlington will return to his roguish ways?”
Lady Bronwyn’s features transformed into a look of shock. “Hurlington, a rogue? Trust me, I know a rogue when I see one. And I’ve known the man for many, many years. I can attest, dear Hurlington is no rogue, rake, or scoundrel.”
“Then I gather your suggestion is for me is to focus on reconciling my own thoughts and feelings.”
“It is indeed.” Lady Bronwyn gave her a weak smile and added, “However, I also know it is easier said than done, thus if you ever need my assistance, I hope you know I’m here for you.” Her hostess picked up her tea and sipped, all the while studying Violet over the rim of her cup.
With the knowledge of how body language can speak volumes more than words, Violet carefully arranged her features so as not to cause Lady Bronwyn to worry and give the woman a glimpse into the turmoil that was brewing in her chest and mind.
She needed time and space to consider everything with a clear and level head.