Page 6 of Most Sought-After Scoundrel in London (Wicked Widows League #31)
T he early rays of daylight streamed through Violet’s window.
She gazed down at the verses that had propelled her to abscond from Lady Theo’s salon early.
It had been pure coincidence, or so she told herself, that her departure coincided with Lord Hurlington’s arrival.
Words that had evaded her for months had finally flowed until the dark hours were over, yet the triumphant feeling that accompanied completing a piece was missing.
What was Lord Hurlington doing?
She peered out her window, scanning the gardens below, searching the shadows but somehow knowing there was nothing, no one, no scoundrels lurking about.
The unsettling feeling that had slowly invaded her since she decided to avoid Lord Hurlington not only spurred the words that were now penned before her but also ignited her curiosity that would not abate.
Lady Bertha had been correct. After having been in Lord Hurlington’s company, Violet had managed to pen a poem that would secure funds, funds she was sorely in need of.
She should follow through with her promise to Lady Bertha as repayment and continue to investigate the true nature of Lord Hurlington’s activities, except if her suspicions were correct, would she dare to share the truth with Lady Bertha?
She pushed her chair back and rose, placing her palms on the small of her back, which ached.
What were the odds she might find Lord Hurlington at the flower mart again this morn?
Or perhaps he was still abed. Her wicked imagination had her wondering if the man slept in a lawn shirt or naked.
Was he with a woman or alone? Blast her curiosity!
Marching over to her wardrobe, she pulled open the double doors and reached for her wool cloak.
“Focus,” she scolded herself.
As Violet tied the ribbon of her cloak, it dawned on her that the key to Lord Hurlington’s whereabouts lay with Lady Hadfield.
Shoulders set, with the beginnings of a plan, Violet skipped through the halls of Matron Manor, ready to embark upon her mission.
Except when she reached the street, it was deserted.
She looked to her right and then to her left, releasing a deep sigh.
Since the gas lamps remained lit and presumably the majority of the ton were abed, there was no reason for many hacks to be out at this hour. Violet had no option but to go on foot.
With only her thoughts to keep her company, she recalled the days when she would spend hour upon hour devising plans to escape from the ever-watchful eyes of her maid.
Despite the fact that marriage had brought her nothing but worries and collectors to her door, Violet knew it was far better to be an indebted widow than a spinster who was still at the whim of her family.
She shook her head as girlish dreams of falling in love and having a family with a gentleman who adored her fogged her brain.
Regaining her bearings, Violet found herself but a short distance away from the Hadfield residence.
It was still hours before it was deemed socially acceptable to make such an impromptu visit, and even if she were to wait for receiving hours, what purpose would she declare to the butler that would warrant an invitation inside, rather than her being sent away?
Clearly, her mind was muddled for her to have embarked upon such a fruitless adventure.
Violet turned to make her way back toward the flower mart when she stopped.
What harm could she possibly cause by investigating into her suspicions a tad?
If she was right, Lord Hurlington would be within close proximity of the Hadfield townhome.
Her mind refused to relinquish of the idea that there was far more to the scoundrel than what he led the ton to believe.
Mayhap if she approached from the back alley, she might be able to discover the truth.
Retracing her steps, Violet practiced to the best of her ability to move without sound.
She wasn’t as stealthy as Lord Hurlington but she was making progress.
Before turning down the alley, she took a fortifying breath and pulled the hood of her cloak over her head.
Keeping to the fringes of the estate, Violet carefully tread along the hedges until she found a gap that would allow her both a purview of the house and provided adequate protection from detection.
She crouched down and admired the manor before her.
It wasn’t as grand as others nearby, however it was only a skipping stone’s throw away from St. James Palace and the Royal Family.
The curtains in one of the lower rooms were drawn, and Violet got a peek into the home of Lord and Lady Hadfield.
The couple were rarely seen attending functions, and even less without one another.
In fact, the only time Violet could recall such an occurrence coincided with Lady Bronwyn’s confinements after the birth of their three children.
A footman was bustling about the room that looked to be where the family broke their fast, arranging platters, silverware, and glasses.
Oddly, the man appeared harried and not at all familiar with the task.
When a mature-looking housekeeper appeared and chased the man out of her way as she went about fixing each setting, Violet realized that the man was no footman; it was Lord Hurlington.
She could only guess that Lord Hurlington was getting a rather lively lecture from the woman.
The debonair gentleman who charmed ladies with ease in the ballroom was now being shooed about by a woman half his size.
Shifting back into the bushes, she swallowed the giggle that was lodged in her throat.
When Lady Bronwyn appeared in the room, the Lord Hurlington Violet knew and recognized reappeared, and the playful gentleman who was bantering with the housekeeper moments before disappeared.
Lord Hurlington moved to the sideboard and began loading up a plate of food.
Urgh. After years of watching others from the shadows she should have mastered the art of lip reading yet she failed to decipher what Lady Bronwyn had said to cause the man to straighten to attention, nearly fumbling his plate and spilling its contents.
When Lord Hurlington lifted his gaze to the mirror above the sideboard, Violet did likewise, and as their eyes met briefly, she fell backward onto her arse.
Her right leg cramped, preventing her from fleeing immediately.
Breathe. No rash movements. If she remained quiet and still, she could hope that he might convince himself that he was seeing things and go about enjoying his meal.
Except when she heard the crush of pebbles beneath quick booted footsteps, Violet knew her wishes would be dashed like always.
She wasn’t surprised when a large, gloved hand was extended to her through the leaves. However, she was shocked at the gravelly voice of Landon Neale, Lord Hadfield. “Lady Violet, please allow me to escort you back to the house.”
Discovered and left with no choice but to accept the gentleman’s offer, Violet placed her hand in Lord Hadfield’s. Cheeks warm, Violet bobbed a curtsy as soon as she emerged from the hedge. “My thanks, my lord.”
“Might I suggest we take a stroll before we join my wife and Lord Hurlington?” Lord Hadfield’s tone was light yet serious.
Legs aching and needing to be stretched, Violet answered, “That sounds like a grand idea, my lord.”
“The discussion at Theo’s literary salon was not nearly half as simulating without you present, Lady Violet.” Lord Hadfield clasped his hands behind his back. “I find your views and opinions extremely insightful.”
Violet mirrored the man’s posture, placing her hands behind her back.
She’d not conversed with Lord Hadfield at length nor about any other topic but the weather.
It was a pleasant discovery to find that the man was not only eloquent but extremely clever in his word choices.
Bah. The gentleman next to her was a PORF; she shouldn’t have expected less.
Uncomfortable accepting compliments, she replied, “You are too kind, my lord.”
“There are many who would strongly disagree with you.” Lord Hadfield laughed and then stopped to glance over at the house.
“It’s time for us to join the others, but before we do, I want to share with you that whatever you decide, you shall have the support of the Neales.
That includes my wife, my brother, his wife, my mother, and I. ”
Stunned, Violet watched the Earl of Hadfield stride back to the house without pause. It was only when he reached the terrace door and held it open for her that she found herself moving forward despite her intuition screaming at her to run the other way.
“Hurlington, will you please take a seat?” Lady Bronwyn’s order, delivered in an even, unruffled tone, had Cameron joining his host at the table.
He couldn’t help but look over his shoulder at the woman who was casually strolling alongside the highest-ranking PORF as if Lord Hadfield didn’t have the power to change the direction of her life at a whim.
Not that Lord Hadfield had ever acted without reason; his wife ensured that.
Cameron turned back around to find Lady Bronwyn studying him closely.
He picked up his fork and took a healthy bite of sausage. When Lady Bronwyn arched a brow in his direction, he quickly swallowed, then picked up his napkin to wipe the corners of his mouth before asking, “Is there something on my face?”
“Not in particular.” Lady Hadfield’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly. “However, there is a look of guilt, or is it concern? Is there something weighing on your mind that you have not shared with us?”
His mind raced to find the words that would normally come with ease after years of practice tiptoeing about the truth. “There has been a matter—” His reply was interrupted by the entrance of Lord Hadfield and Lady Violet.
Cameron rose and bowed. “A good morn, Lord Hadfield. Lady Violet.”
“Sit,” Lord Hadfield commanded, and both he and Lady Violet moved quickly to obey the man.
“Husband! You’ll scare Lady Violet away before I’ve even had a chance to visit with her,” Lady Bronwyn scolded the man who only had soft looks for his wife.
“My apologies. Should I take my leave now, then?” Lord Hadfield asked with a smile that made Cameron feel as if he was intruding upon a very private moment. He glanced over at Violet, whose cheeks were pink, and her gaze was trained on her hands in her lap.
“My mama was correct. Once a rogue, always a rogue.” Lady Bronwyn stood and escorted her husband to the door before giving him a final push over the threshold.
As he shifted uncomfortably in his seat, Violet flickered her gaze in his direction, her stern look reminded him of those he used to receive from his governess as a boy. Why Violet was able to humble him was both unnerving and bewildering.
“Hurlington?” Lady Bronwyn’s unusually sharp tone broke through his thoughts.
“Yes, my lady?”
Ignoring him, Lady Bronwyn returned to her seat and shifted to address Violet. “This is exactly why I need your assistance.”
“You wish for me to attend a week-long house party at your country estate?”
“There’s naught for you to worry about. It will be a small, intimate affair.
” Lady Bronwyn tilted her head, a sign Cameron had come to recognize to be a warning that the woman was about to impart news or information of significance.
“Lady Theo shared with me… Well, she advised that since I was a lover of Louisa Herman’s work, that we should become better acquainted. ”
Egad. If Cameron had deciphered Lady Bronwyn’s words correctly, Lady Violet and Ms. Herman were one and the same.
His gaze shifted to Violet, who looked unruffled and not at all like a woman who had been unmasked.
Her composure was remarkable. Muted in wonder, his gaze continued to flicker between the two women who volleyed arguments as to whether Violet should attend.
While he wanted Violet to be the victor, he secretly knew that Lady Bronwyn would win.
As wife of the head PORF, the Countess of Hadfield was a master debater and negotiator.
It wasn’t long before Violet’s shoulders rolled slightly forward in defeat. “As you wish, Lady Bronwyn. I shall join for a week, but only a week.”
“Grand. I shall have the Hadfield coach come fetch you tomorrow morning.”
“Tomorrow!”
“This afternoon then?” Lady Bronwyn challenged.
Cameron couldn’t help but sit back and smile as the banter began once more. Regardless of when they were to depart, he was looking forward to spending a week in Violet’s company.
“Then it’s settled. We shall set out tomorrow afternoon,” Lady Bronwyn declared.
Violet, clearly defeated, stood, and Cameron jumped to his feet. “Allow me to escort you home, Lady Violet.”
As he came to stand next to her, Violet hissed, “Oh, you can speak.”
Perhaps he should have interjected and assisted her earlier in response to her pleading eyes, but given his wishes were aligned with Lady Bronwyn, he didn’t believe he’d be of much help.
They walked through Hadfield Hall, which was abuzz with activity. Servants were bustling about, accompanied by the sounds of children scurrying up and down stairs. It was a stark difference to the eerie quietness of his abode that he occupied alone now that his sisters were all married.
As they crossed the threshold of the front door, Violet turned to him and said, “There’s no need to accompany me, my lord. I’m certain you must have much to arrange, as I do, in order to set out tomorrow.”
“Actually, I’ve the afternoon free. My staff are accustomed to me leaving on short notice.”
“Oh, really, and why is that?”
He really should be more careful. “Oh, gentlemen often set off on hunting trips without much planning or simply to escape from the tiresome balls.”
“Ah… yes one of the many privileges of being a gentleman. The liberty to go about as you jolly well please,” Violet blustered at him as he maneuvered her toward his carriage.
After he assisted her up into the vehicle, Cameron chuckled, pleased to hear the informality of Violet’s tone. He was finally breaking through her solid wall of propriety and was just mayhap one step closer to becoming one of the widow’s confidants.