Page 13 of Most Sought-After Scoundrel in London (Wicked Widows League #31)
T he anticipation of spending hours upon hours alone with Violet in a travelling coach had Cameron’s imagination running wild. They had much to discuss, but his damn mind could not forget their interlude in the music room.
From the corner of his eye, the coachman shook his head as he continued to pace alongside the coach.
Accustomed to waiting for Hadfield, who never left his wife nor his children behind, Cameron rehearsed his arguments as to why Violet should agree to marry him and have their banns read as soon as they returned to London.
Lady Bronwyn and David approached. His hostess called out, “Hurlington. There you are!”
“Lady Bronwyn. David.” He stopped in front of the coach steps and waited.
“Why haven’t you departed?” David asked.
“I’m waiting for Lady Violet.”
“Oh, my. Did no one inform you?” Lady Bronwyn’s feigned surprise was peculiar. Why would the PORF pretend not to know, when as lady of the house, she knew every detail of what occurred on the estate? Cameron eyed Lady Bronwyn when she continued, “Lady Violet left at first light.”
Stunned, his mind raced as it recalled the events of the previous evening.
Violet had been a tad quiet during their last supper, but he had attributed it to a lack of sleep.
The woman had dark smudges beneath her eyes as if she hadn’t slept in days.
When he’d accompanied her back to her rooms, they had parted with a deeply passionate kiss.
A kiss that he believed at the time held promises for the future.
He rubbed the back of his neck. Mayhap he had misinterpreted her ardor. Had she meant it to be a kiss goodbye?
“Lord Hurlington, are you going to stand there like a statue or join us?” Lady Bronwyn asked through the coach window.
“Papa will be displeased if we fall behind,” David added as he climbed into the coach and settled into the forward-facing seat next to his mother.
Gathering his wits, Cameron followed the lad into the coach and made himself comfortable facing Lady Bronwyn, who was studying him closely.
Lady Bronwyn was no ninny and most talented at negotiation.
The woman had undoubtedly chosen David to accompany her to avoid certain topics, and if he had to place a wager, one topic in particular—Lady Violet and his proposal.
As the coach lurched forward, he braced himself for a long journey back to London.
David’s gaze was trained on him. “You appear rather distracted, Lord Hurlington.”
“Do I?” he asked. The boy was still young, but he’d already begun his training as a PORF, which Cameron could only imagine was more intense than that of a Network member.
“You were appointed to oversee my mother’s safety.
I suggest you keep your guard up; you never know when one might come across a highwayman.
” David’s delivery was serious and beheld a maturity that was weighted with responsibility and honor.
“Mama is with child again.” The boy smiled up at his mother. “I’m hoping for a brother this time.”
Lady Bronwyn wrapped an arm around the boy's shoulders and tugged him closer as she rested her other hand over her belly. “We shall have to wait and see.”
The loving image before him reminded Cameron of when he used to receive hugs and words of encouragement from his own mother.
He missed his parents dearly. Like David, he was the middle child and the only son, and understood the longing for another male family member.
He sent up a quick prayer for David to be blessed with a younger brother or even two.
While he loved and missed his sisters, there had definitely been occasions, mostly when he was away on a mission, that he would have liked to have a brother to help protect his family and the PORFs, for there were but two titled families in the Network, his own and the Earl of Waterford’s.
Given that Lord Waterford and his wife had declared to remain childless, it was imperative for him to continue the Hurlington line. Why in the damnation had Violet left early?
Laden with emotions and an overstuffed valise, Violet trudged up the stairs of Matron Manor to her room.
The hours she’d spent alone, traveling back to town, had allowed her to take Lady Bronwyn’s advice to organize her thoughts with an honest heart.
After much contemplation, she decided it was best if she kept her distance from Cameron.
He had shown absolutely no interest in Violet prior to him carrying out orders to train her.
She surmised his interest had been the result of his becoming accustomed to her presence.
After all, they had spent a fortnight in each other's company.
Now that they were to return to London, he would have his pick of partners once more and not be forced to spend time with her, and her alone.
She prepared herself for the rejection that was surely to come.
Admittedly, Violet had fallen into the same trap, confusing her feelings for Cameron, believing herself in love.
She rubbed her chest in hopes of alleviating the ache that refused to abate since her early morning departure.
As she reached the door of her room, she inhaled deeply before entering.
Her gaze fell to her bed. No matter how exquisite the coach, Violet found traveling to be bone jarring and uncomfortable.
Too weary to undress, she fell upon her bed and pulled the covers over her. Wrapped up tightly, she curled her legs up to her chest and closed her eyes. The familiar sounds of doors opening and closing, and the patter of women traipsing through the halls lulled her into a deep sleep.
Awakened by the rapid rap of knuckles and Lady Bertha calling out her name, Violet peeked her head out from beneath the covers as her door swung open.
“Oh, dear!” Lady Bertha rushed over to the bed. “Violet, you are…”
“A mess?”
Lady Bertha tugged at the covers. “Lord Hurlington is below stairs awaiting you.”
“What time is it?” She pushed herself up and slipped her legs over the side of the bed.
“Half past ten.”
Violet peered over at the window. Goodness, what was Cameron thinking, coming in the middle of the evening?
Pulled to her feet, Violet let Lady Bertha lead her over to her vanity, where her mentor motioned for her to sit on the bench.
Obediently, she sat and stared at herself in the mirror.
The dark circles under her eyes had nearly disappeared, and there was a pinkish tint to her cheeks that had been missing for days.
“Why did you not send Lord Hurlington away and tell him to come at a decent hour?” Violet asked as she removed pins from her hair.
Lady Bertha, who had moved to stand in front of her dresser, opened a drawer and pulled out a clean shift, and then marched over to open up her wardrobe. “Having completed your training, you know I can’t do that.”
Violet whipped around so fast she nearly became unseated. “Are you a mem?—”
The rest of her sentence was smothered as Lady Bertha covered her mouth with one hand and handed Violet the clothing with the other.
“Urgh. Obviously, Lord Hurlington was remiss in his training. You are to never ask another that question.” Grabbing the brush, Lady Bertha ran the bristles through Violet’s matted hair.
“We must be quick about getting you presentable. The Council is eager to meet you.”
Her heart sank a little. Cameron hadn’t come of his own accord.
He had been ordered to come to fetch her for her final test—gaining the approval of the Network elders.
The ache that remained in her chest deepened.
Shaking off the disappointment that had momentarily frozen her features, she forced the corners of her lips up to form a smile. “I’m anxious to meet with them.”
“You have naught to be worried over. I have every confidence in you, Violet.”
Lady Bertha had long been Violet’s supporter in every endeavor and adventure.
She wouldn’t have survived those lonely, early months of widowhood if it hadn’t been for Lady Bertha and the other wicked widows.
She couldn’t let them down. Violet reached up and twisted her now silky tresses into a simple yet elegant bun and secured it with a rope of pearls and pins.
With Lady Bertha’s help, she quickly changed.
With one last glance at herself in the mirror, Violet plastered on a smile and then looped her arm through Lady Bertha’s. “I think I’m ready. Shall we?”
Thankful for Lady Bertha’s support but unable to vocalize it, Violet walked in silence next to her mentor until they reached the receiving room where Cameron stood in front of a blazing fire.
The tension in her chest that had her breathing restricted eased as soon as the man was in sight.
Blast him for having such an effect on her.
She shouldn’t be elated at merely being in the same room as him once more.
Blast her heart. Unable to deny her feelings for the man any longer, she relented and admitted to herself that she was in love.