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She smoothed her skirts and sat up straighter and her mother’s brow relaxed. “When you meet His Grace,” her mother began. She held in her sigh this time. Many of their conversations had started exactly so. “Make sure to be the picture of ladylike decorum.”
The lecture went on and Violette nodded attentively, though she barely paid attention. In her defense she’d heard it so many times, she could nearly recite it verbatim.
Violette was now the sister of an Earl, her father having passed a year prior. And while her dowry was intact, the family’s funds were so diminished that she wouldn’t be able to participate in the upcoming season.
She needed to marry, there was no question about that. Without a match, her family wouldn’t survive financially. So her mother had leveraged her social connections to secure several invitations. The goal being to find a husband before they were forced to use her dowry just to live. That would be the beginning of the end.
With a proper husband, her mother would be provided for. She hoped to convince her new husband to provide a modest dowry for her sister and help her brother to learn to manage his funds far better than their father had done.
Her mother finally ended her lecture. “If he doesn’t wish to make a match, we will simply move on. The Marquess of Dunstable and the Earl of Rumsford have also sent invitations.”
That was supposed to make her feel better. If this man didn’t want her, another would. But somehow, it only made her insides twist into knots. She resembled a side of beef at the market. One of them would want her for his table.
She pushed the thought aside. She’d given up lamenting her fate some time ago. She understood the alternative and she wouldn’t allow her sister to become a spinster, her brother to sink under the weight of their debt.
Her father had loved them. He’d been attentive and kind. Loving and present. He simply was a poor manager of money.
The carriage slowed and Violette peered out the window again. The blurry figure of a man and his horse huddled under a tree caught her notice as the driver pulled to a stop. She could hear her driver’s muffled voice and she watched the man straighten.
The carriage bounced as the driver climbed down and then a rap on the door echoed through the interior.
“Yes,” her mother called.
“Stranded traveler, my lady.” He replied as she mother opened the door and climbed out of the carriage.
Violette swallowed a lump. Her father should be here. Her mother should not be stepping out into the rain to greet strange men. What if he was a highwayman intent upon robbing them?
Her heart beat faster even as her mother climbed back into the carriage. “Move onto my seat, dear,” her mother stated matter-of-factly. “We’re taking on a passenger.”
“Mother,” she gasped. “You can’t. What if he’s a—”
But she stopped as the door opened again. She might have yelped but she’d already gotten a lecture this day and so she simply moved over. The man climbed into the buggy and shed his wet coat. Silently, he handed over a coin purse to her mother. “Thank you,” he said as she took it in her gloved hand.
Violette caught her breath as she watched him sit. He did indeed look like a highwayman. Tall, broad, and well-muscled, he moved with the grace of a predator and she shivered, having nothing to do with the cold blast of air that had entered the carriage. His dark, wet hair had fallen into his piercing blue eyes and he pushed it back in a careless gesture that made her heart beat faster.
His skin was a rich brown, which only lent to his air of danger, and she watched as he rubbed at the growth of hair on his face. It wasn’t just stubble, but it also hadn’t grown enough or been groomed in such a way to be considered a beard.
She had to admit that his features were classically handsome though it mattered little if he chose to rob them or even kill them for their valuables. Not that they had many. But still.
She noted how large his hand was, and for a moment, she thought to clutch her mother in fear. But that would only lead to a lecture, and so she clasped her fingers together instead.
Her mother had allowed this man into their carriage because he’d paid her to do so. Who was to say he hadn’t stolen coin from the last traveler he’d met? Gads, their financial woes would lead them to their death.
