He wished he could hold Violet’s hand, wrap his arms around her and burst through the glass, run away from this. Instead, he cleared his throat. The sound echoed in the pained silence.
“Please forgive me,” he rasped. “Violet and I were—were celebrating our engagement.”
A quick intake of air from behind him. A sharpened glare from Valebrook. “Is that true?”
“No.”
The word made Callum’s knees shake. Violet stepped out, still clutching her loose gown with a hand between her breasts. Sheraised her chin, all pride and strength, even when her words pulled everything of substance from his body.
“It’s not true,” she said. “I am not marrying him.”
Chapter 36
My shoes are ruined.
What a ridiculous thought to have, given the circumstances. But as water from the puddle she’d stepped in during her march of shame slithered through the silk of her slippers and up her stocking, she was grateful to have a specific sensation to grab hold of, to occupy her mind.
I am ruined.This was the far more important phrase, and for all her bluster about annihilating her own reputation, she now wanted to slink away in disgrace, find a local witch to help her turn back time and choose a different course of action.
She trembled within Bridget’s cloak, her dress still partially unbuttoned. Callum walked close behind her, and she felt the intensity of his gaze on the back of her neck. Valebrook led the dishonorable parade, with Sir Phineas—Christ, what to say to Sir Phineas?—barking at the man about his irresponsibility in hosting a bacchanal of reprehensible immorality.
I am ruined.
Valebrook swept them into his office and slammed the door behind them. Mercifully, the onlookers, including Sir Phineas, had disbanded upon reaching the house, most likely to spread the delicious gossip amongst the other guests. She sat on the sofa, and Bridget settled next to her, wrapping her arm around Violet’s shoulders. Callum stood stock still in front of the earl’s desk as Valebrook prepared a hefty pour of whisky and threw it back with a wince.
He swung his pointed glare towards Callum. “What is the meaning of this? You are a guest at my home. You took advantage of the generosity of my peers, then took advantage of mygoddaughter?”
“What am I going to say to Clara?” Bridget wailed. “I promised I’d keep her daughter safe, and—”
“I meant what I said,” Callum cut in, and the sound of his voice made something warm in Violet’s chest, even as she fought to shut it out. “I will marry her.” But he didn’t look at her, kept his attention trained on Valebrook.
The earl scoffed as he withdrew a piece of paper from his desk and scrawled a message. “You’re damn right you will. Once I cable her father, I’ll arrange a special license. Get this done immediately.”
“I said I won’t marry him.” Her voice shook, and she hated the weakness, wished herself to be stronger.
“Why not?” If only Callum had asked, but it was Bridget.
She swallowed, but the lump in her throat refused to budge. “I won’t leave my family, and I won’t wait for years for him to return to England.”
Valebrook glared at Callum. “Then you’re not going to Panama. Someone else will go.” Callum paled. “It has to be me.” Valebrook slammed down his pen. “Then I withdraw my investment and I’ll make sure the others do as well—”
“Ye cannae breach the contract.” Callum delivered his words through clenched teeth, the most emotion he’d shown since coming into the room. “Ye read the non-compliance clauses. Ye’ll lose thousands of pounds.”
The strike landed, an almost imperceptible wince from the earl. “She’s worth the cost to me. Is she worth it to you?”
He hesitated, something dark passing over his expression. Understanding crashed into her unbidden and had she not already been sitting down, her knees would have buckled. “I’m not worth it, am I?”
Callum looked at her then, his brow creased. “It’s no’ so simple, Violet.”
“It is simple.” She pushed to her feet. “Do you want to be with me?”
“Yes, I do.” The words burst from him, a bright flare of fury.
“But I won’t go with you to Panama. You shouldn’t go either. It’s too dangerous.”
She hadn’t finished her sentence before he was shaking his head, digging his fingers into his hair and tugging. How desperately she wanted to touch him, to hold his cheeks and kiss him.
His nostrils flared. “The company is depending on this. My grandfather’s legacy, the livelihoods of thousands, my aunt, James’s protection—”
