To Have and to Hoax(96)
She smiled at him, her eyes overly bright. “Why?” she said, and he knew that she was not referring to his previous words.
He sighed. “I saw my father in the park this morning,” he said, surprised to hear that his tone was not as bitter as it usually was when the duke arose as a topic of conversation.
Violet’s brow furrowed. “Oh?” Nothing more—and he was grateful for it. He knew she was curious, he knew the questions must be about to burst from within her—because she was Violet, and that was her way—but here she was, waiting patiently all the same.
“Indeed,” he said shortly, then softened his tone, reaching a hand out to trace down her impossibly soft cheek.
“Did you discuss anything important?” she asked, and he bit back a smile at her attempts to make her tone casual, to disguise the impatience lurking just beneath the surface.
He hesitated a moment—they had in fact discussed something of rather great importance, and yet he still felt that it had so little to do with the matter at hand that it was scarcely worth mentioning. He did not wish to linger upon his conversation with the duke, not when he had already allowed his father to determine so much about his relationship with Violet. “Not particularly,” he said, telling himself it wasn’t a lie. It didn’t feel like a lie—his encounter with his father, to his mind, had nothing at all to do with the love he felt for his wife in this moment, and he had no desire to muddy things between them by bringing his father into it. “But speaking with him—it made me realize that I was allowing him to dictate my life. I was letting him win.”
“It doesn’t have to be a competition,” she said softly, her eyes sad.
“I know,” he said, touching her cheek gently. “I know that now.”
“I missed you,” she whispered. “I don’t ever want to miss you that much again.”
“I missed you, too.” He leaned forward, kissed her forehead. “I hated sitting in the same room and feeling as though you were miles away from me.”
“I’m not miles away now,” she said, her gentle smile slanting into something slightly saucy, her silky foot stroking against his leg. They still had more to discuss, some small voice in his mind reminded him—he needed to prove his trust to her—but even the best intentions could be thwarted by an enticing, naked wife.
He rolled her onto her back in a single smooth motion, bracing himself on his elbows as he bent over her, smiling down into her eyes.
“And thank God for that.”
Sixteen
It was some indeterminate amount of time later that the distant sound of a clock tolling the hour brought them back to themselves.
“Good lord!” Violet said, sitting up all at once. “I’m supposed to be having tea with my mother in half an hour!”
“Send her a note saying you’ve taken ill,” James said, making no move to budge from his recumbent position. His arms were crossed behind his head, the sheet bunched at his waist, and Violet spent a silent moment casting an appreciative glance at the abdominal muscles on display.
After a moment’s admiration, however, she shook her head sadly. “It won’t do. She’ll only make a fuss and I shall never be rid of her. It’s better to go see her now.” She slid her feet to the floor. “And you need to go, too, unless you wish to give Price an awful shock. I hate to think what the sight of you in all your naked glory should do to her delicate sensibilities.”
“Price has nothing like delicate sensibilities,” James grumbled. “She is employed by you, after all.” But nonetheless, he rose, collected his garments from the various spots on the floor in which they had landed in his rather hasty attempt to disrobe, and, after placing one last lingering kiss upon Violet’s lips, departed through her dressing room to his own set of rooms.
Half an hour later, Violet was on her way down the stairs, Price’s rather choice remarks about ladies who inexplicably found their hair in disarray in the middle of the afternoon ringing in her ears. She was only a quarter of the way down the staircase, however, when Wooton opened the front door to reveal Jeremy standing on the steps.
“Wooton, old boy,” Jeremy said, his voice ringing through the entryway, “did I leave my hat here earlier? I was so distracted by Lady Templeton’s haranguing on the way out that I think I walked off without it. On second thought, perhaps I should just purchase a new one and send the bill to her.”
“I believe you did, my lord,” Wooton said, stepping aside to allow Jeremy into the house. “I would be happy to fetch it for you.”
“Capital,” Jeremy said, then added, “Is your master at home?”
Wooton nodded. “He is, my lord, but I fear he is rather busy at the moment.”
“Still lying prostrate at his wife’s feet, I expect,” Jeremy said cheerfully, his smile slipping a bit when his eyes landed on Violet, who was nearly at the bottom of the stairs. “Or perhaps not. Violet, old girl, please tell me you’ve forgiven the poor sod.”
“Jeremy,” Violet said, trying to keep her tone severe, despite the fact that everything seemed to make her want to smile today. “Why would you think I’ve forgiven him?” she asked curiously—after all, when Jeremy had last left the house, Violet and Diana had been discussing the relative merits of Violet having an affair.