Page 9 of Most Sought-After Scoundrel in London (Wicked Widows League #31)
O ne hand kneading the back of his neck, the other firmly jammed into his coat pocket, Cameron marched back and forth in front of the row of widows that allowed daylight to stream into the drawing room.
What was he to do with the woman!
Three blasted days in Violet’s presence, and she had him second-guessing everything he’d ever been taught and believed.
The lady was not like any of the trainees he’d had in the past. For starters, she wasn’t born into the Network, which meant she questioned every rule that had seemed so reasonable to him, having grown up under the same set of governing directives that all Network members were held to.
The number of times Violet had him befuddled as to how best address her queries had not only resulted in him losing sleep but his confidence at successfully completing his task.
The clack of heels against wood in the hall announced Violet’s arrival.
Teaching the lady to traverse without sound was proving to be rather difficult, although the mischievous twinkle in Violet’s eyes when he asked her to exhibit her ability made him question whether the woman was deliberately deceiving him or if she truly had yet to master the skill.
The swoosh of Violet’s skirts had him cease his pacing and stand at attention. Violet put him on edge like no other.
She didn’t hesitate to walk directly up to him until they were toe-to-toe. “What shall we be doing today, Hurlington?”
It took extreme control for him not to move, as he fought the instinct to take a step back and wrap her up in his arms. Violet’s bright smile, the one she never shared in the company of others, had his mind focused on her plump lips.
The number of times he had lost concentration due to his imagination wandering to places it shouldn’t during their training sessions was vast. Warding off emotions that might lead to a deeper connection was a skill he’d mastered long ago, yet in Violet’s company, he was having difficulty in preventing his affection for the woman from showing.
Simultaneously, he cleared his mind and throat.
“Lord Hadfield has informed me that he shall be joining us in the afternoon to observe your progress.” Cameron took a step back and turned slightly to face the window, leaving Violet in his peripheral vision.
“Do you have any particular concerns or matters that you feel we should readdress?”
She lowered her eyes to the floor briefly before answering, “Nothing comes to mind immediately.”
Violet was lying. She had yet to master the art of deceit. A skill that he was remorsefully good at and was begrudgingly tutoring her on. “Violet, you avert your eyes downward whenever you are not telling the truth. It's a habit you will have to cease.”
Her fists balled at her sides. “Didn’t you tell me I should act demure when I wish to avoid a topic?”
Cameron subdued the chuckle that tickled his throat and forced his brows to knit. “Did I?”
“Is this one of your challenges?”
“Most certainly not.” He had to fully turn his back to her to prevent her from seeing the stupid grin he couldn’t erase. That was a lie. It wasn’t so much that he couldn’t; it was that he liked the way Violet made him smile without artifice.
She whipped around him. “Hurlington.” Violet rolled up onto her tiptoes, and he found himself face-to-face with her once more.
What was he to do with the woman?
This time, Violet’s lips were too tempting.
He wrapped one arm around her waist and the other supported the back of her neck, and he lowered his head.
The heated kisses of his imagination paled compared to the feel of her buttery smooth mouth pressed against his.
The moment her muscles relaxed, he parted his mouth and prompted her to do the same.
Violet was an astute student, quickly gaining confidence as she fell into the rhythm of the kiss.
Cameron hugged her closer, and they continued the intimate dance, pressing, pulling, tugging.
The woman had him breathless and befuddled.
“Ahem.” The deep rumble had Violet breaking the kiss and jumping out of Cameron’s arms. She hid behind his tall frame and broad shoulders.
Her coiffure was a mess. She was a mess.
“Hadfield. You are early.” Cameron’s smooth, even tone cracked.
Violet’s cheeks flooded with heat at Lord Hadfield’s laughter.
There was no time better than now to prove to the PORF that she had been diligently working on her skills.
She shook out her skirts, tucked the wayward wisps of hair behind her ears, and stepped out to face the man who had the power to change her future on a whim.
Holding her gaze steady, she said, “What Lord Hurlington meant to say was, we have been expecting you.”
“Well done, Lady Violet.” The head PORF smiled. “Steady. Well delivered. Convincing.”
Cameron puffed out his chest as if it was he who was receiving the compliment rather than her.
“Shall we adjourn to the settee?” she asked.
“A brandy would be nice, Hurlington.”
Violet watched Lord Hadfield closely as he traversed across the room.
How did a man of his stature, who was two or three inches taller than Cameron and weighed at least sixteen stone, move about with such ease and without sound?
It was the one skill she had yet to completely master, despite Cameron’s diligent efforts.
She didn’t want to disappoint her trainer, and she desperately wanted to join him and become a member of the Network.
Steeling her nerves, she attempted to follow Lord Hadfield’s lead without detection.
When Lord Hadfield suddenly stopped, she teetered, but she caught her balance in time, thankfully without a sound.
Tucking her flaying arms behind her, she looked up and gave Lord Hadfield an unruffled look that she had practiced in the mirror alone in her chambers for hours, for when she attempted the feigned look with Cameron, it always resulted in laughter.
“After you, Lady Violet.”
Well aware Lord Hadfield had come to assess her abilities, she trusted Cameron had trained her well. She considered the configuration of the furniture and selected the seat that gave her a view of the door and the side-bar where Cameron was taking his time pouring drinks. What was the man doing?
Taking her time to adjust her skirts, she kept her eyes averted but was keenly aware of Cameron’s every move. She waited for Lord Hadfield to be seated. Hands clasped in her lap, shoulders relaxed, and she kept her breathing at a slow, even pace.
“Has Hurlington been treating you well?” Lord Hadfield asked as he accepted the tumbler Cameron offered him.
In a relaxed manner, Cameron took the seat next to her and crossed his outstretched legs at the ankles. Since discovering that her trainer always acted with purpose, she had begun to analyze his every move. Had Cameron placed his long limbs out to protect her or to prevent her from escaping?
“No need to answer, Lady Violet. Hurlington’s repose says it all.” Lord Hadfield crossed his leg over one knee and then proceeded to slowly raise his glass to his lips.
Her brows knitted before she could mask her reaction.
Cameron had briefed her on the art of reading and interpreting the body language of others, but she’d not thought about adjusting her own movements with the intent to communicate.
What had Lord Hadfield’s slow and deliberate movements meant?
She made a mental note to ask Cameron once they were alone again.
There was much for her to learn. Violet caught Cameron sneaking a glance over his glass at her, and the wave of uncertainty that had threatened to crush her confidence petered out, knowing that she was in Cameron’s capable care.
Lord Hadfield turned his gaze to Cameron and asked, “Have you shared with Lady Violet your objective and the timing we need it completed?”
“I thought it best to provide her with the fundamentals before burdening her with more,” Cameron answered as he swirled the amber liquid around and around in his tumbler. He was purposefully avoiding eye contact, which meant he was skirting the truth.
“Perhaps, Lord Hadfield, you could provide me with the details?” Violet bravely asked.
“You and Hurlington are to devise a new method for disseminating mass messages within the Network.”
“New?” she blurted and pinned Cameron with a look of disbelief. Why would he have agreed to do the impossible?
Lord Hadfield polished off the remainder of the brandy in his glass with a swift swig and stood. “After today, I have every confidence you shall succeed. I’m looking forward to hearing your solution or solutions before we return to London.”
If she had not undergone three days of intense instruction on controlling facial expressions, her mouth would have fallen agape, or her lips would have thinned into a fine line.
She held her tongue as her emotions volleyed between worry and anger.
Violet waited as Lord Hadfield unraveled his long form and stood.
With a nod as a farewell, Lord Hadfield left the room, pausing briefly to set his glass down on the sideboard.
She must remember to ask Cameron to teach her how to put into practice the art of body language, but only if she didn’t succeed in strangling the man for not informing her about their task from the beginning.
With her host out of earshot, she turned to Cameron and asked, “We have covered less than a handful of covert message delivery methods during the past few days. How many are there?”
Cameron continued to stare into his glass. “Umm… a dozen or so.”
Never one to back down from a challenge, she grabbed the tumbler from his hands and downed the brew.
The burning sensation confirmed she was alive and was, in fact, not dreaming.
When she opened her teary eyes to find Cameron staring at her with utter shock, Violet laughed and said, “Well, if we are to devise a method in ten days, we’d best start now. ”