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Chapter Eighteen
‘How about some shortbread, dear?’ Ianthe’s aunt held out a plate of biscuits with a sympathetic smile. ‘Things always seem better after a little sugar, I find.’
‘No, thank you, Sophoria. I’m not hungry.’
Violet felt as though she were in some kind of trance. In all honesty, she probably was hungry. She hadn’t eaten anything since supper at the ball and it was almost mid-morning. If she was, however, she didn’t feel it. She wasn’t sure she could feel anything any more. Her whole body seemed to be numb.
‘As you wish.’ Sophoria sighed and took a seat next to her on the sofa. ‘But are you quite certain that everything’s over between you and your husband, dear?’
‘Of course she is!’ Ianthe stopped pacing the length of the parlour long enough to answer for her. ‘She’s left him, hasn’t she?’
‘Yes, but she wouldn’t be the first woman to run away from her husband and then regret it, would she, dear?’
‘Aunt!’
Sophoria shrugged placidly. ‘It wasn’t a criticism. All I’m saying is that women leave their husbands for all sorts of reasons. Some are quite right to do so and some do it because of a misunderstanding.’
‘If you’re referring to what happened between Robert and me, then this is a completely different situation and you know it.’
‘Do I, dear? It seems to me that every situation is different. We should never presume to know what goes on between a married couple.’
‘Maybe not, but I know that Violet’s left hers for a good reason. He was a reprobate from the start. I can’t believe I was actually starting to like him.’
‘I’ve always been rather partial to a reprobate myself. They make life interesting.’
‘Be serious, Aunt.’
‘I am. Everyone’s tastes are different and I’m afraid you may be letting your prejudices colour your judgement a little.’
‘What prejudices?’
‘Against, shall we say, a certain type of man. Lance Amberton may have been a reprobate in the past, but from what I’ve heard he was simply young and foolish. Hardly on a level with Charles Lester.’
Ianthe’s hands fell to her hips. ‘How can you even mention that man’s name?’
‘Because I’m afraid you may be confusing one with the other.’
‘Lance Amberton’s reputation is appalling!’
‘Was appalling, dear. People can change.’
Violet twisted her head towards the parlour window, looking out over the promenade and past the edge of the cliff to the foam-flecked sea beyond. Had Lance really changed? She’d thought that he had. The night before she would have answered that question with certainty, whereas now...
Now she knew that Ianthe was right. He was as much of a reprobate as he’d ever been, only she’d deluded herself into thinking the opposite, into thinking he might truly care for her—into believing that someone she loved might actually love her back. But all he wanted—all he’d ever wanted—was her father’s fortune to save his family estate. He hadn’t lied to her—not exactly. He hadn’t needed to when she’d done such a good job of deceiving herself—but she’d only ever been a means to an end. He might have taken her to bed, too, but only after she’d as good as thrown herself at him. After she’d actually released him from his seven-year promise! No matter how wonderful it had felt at the time, it hadn’t meant anything to him, not really, and she’d been the worst kind of fool, letting her heart be broken by a fortune hunter, just as her father had said it would be.
At least she hadn’t told him she loved him.
She closed her eyes, trying to bury the pain, still as fresh as when he’d told her they ought to get a divorce. She could hardly believe that happiness could turn so quickly to despair. Everything that had happened since she’d woken up in his arms in the early hours felt like a bad dream. The remainder of the night and the morning too, although since she hadn’t gone back to bed, the two had merged into one. All she’d wanted to do was get away from Amberton Castle as quickly and quietly as possible, preferably without running into Lance again.
So she’d dressed and packed and then sat by her chamber window, watching the lightening sky and waiting until she heard sounds of activity downstairs before picking up her carpet bag and making her way down to the hall, calmly demanding that one of the stable hands take her back to Whitby.
On arrival, she’d gone straight to Ianthe’s house, interrupting her and Robert at breakfast. They’d sat and listened in stunned silence as she’d told them about Arthur’s return, calmly concluding with the fact that her marriage was over. Only the arrival of Sophoria on her weekly shopping trip had jolted them back to reality. Robert had tactfully excused himself while Ianthe and her aunt had set themselves the task of comforting her. She appreciated the effort, even if she knew it was hopeless—although at the moment they only seemed to be arguing.
‘People don’t change that much, Aunt.’ Ianthe’s hands were still braced on her hips.
‘I disagree. You should never expect anyone to change, but that doesn’t mean that they won’t sometimes do it by themselves. You said that Robert likes him.’
‘What does it matter who likes him?’ Violet interrupted finally. ‘He wants a divorce so that I can marry his brother. That’s all there is to say.’
