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back, and his tone was brisk, and he was holding out his hand to help her from the carriage. “Here we are. Half an hour and then I’ll send you home. This is just to humour me, as you correctly said. Gentlemen don’t like to think they can’t live up to the expectations they’ve set themselves.”
“Of course they don’t.” Violet didn’t trouble to hide the cynicism in her tone. This was about him, not her. She’d be a fool to imagine that last time had been any different.
In the quiet of his private apartment on the first floor, she smiled at the draughts board already in place on the table.
“Premeditated, I see.”
“Not at all. I often play draughts with myself.” He positioned himself opposite her and indicated the board. “Black or white?”
“I daresay since you are used to being both, I won’t be depriving you of a favourite if I choose white.”
“In deference to your name, of course.” He turned the board so her triangle of white pieces was positioned in front of her. “My grandfather was always white, too.” He sent her a wicked grin. “So, it’s little different from what I’m used to. I’m just playing a more attractive opponent. Now, your glass, Madam.” He handed her a glass of fizzing liquid which Violet raised in salute.
Even before her first sip she was feeling surprisingly relaxed. Foolish girl.
His eyes sparkled at her over the top of the glass. “To what shall we toast?”
“That we are good enough at our little deception to bring tears of happiness to your aunt’s eyes.”
“That’s rather sweet. I like that.” He raised his glass. “To my dear aunt who, I must add, likes you very much, Violet. As do I.”
“I know you do.” Violet sent him a look that was half suggestive, half genuine. She couldn’t decide how she felt. “Just not enough.”
“Now, don’t spoil it. I thought you were cleverer than that. We get along famously, and I shall look back at these few weeks with great fondness.”
“When you’re having your grand adventures shooting lions and evading headhunters in the African jungle.”
He grinned. “Precisely. I can’t wait to go, to be honest.” Toying with one of the black pieces, he sighed. “Grandfather is dreadfully down on me for not persuading Mabel back to the negotiating table, but we’re both determined not to be goaded into this thing, for all that it makes good financial sense.”
“You make marriage sound dreadfully unromantic.”
“Well, it isn’t very romantic. Not for people like me.” He topped up their glasses. “I have to marry a girl who fits my grandfather’s criteria since I’m to inherit everything he has spent his lifetime safeguarding and building up. Do you know how hard it is to find a lifetime companion who won’t drive one mad and who has the approval of the family?”
“So that’s why you’re running away to Africa?”
“Precisely.” He nodded. “Self-preservation and to buy myself a few years. What choice do I have but to escape my family following this debacle with Mabel?” He finished his champagne and put down his glass. “I presume that’s why you’re throwing your youth and beauty into Lord Bainbridge’s hands now that he’s finally made you the offer you’ve been hoping for. He’s hardly what I’d consider a particularly fine specimen of manhood.”
“Jealous?” Violet teased.
Something flitted across his face again and then was gone. “Your turn,” he said, bending over the board and studying the placement. “I still think you could do better than Lord Bainbridge.”
“Beggars can’t be choosers.”
“And why are you a beggar, lovely Violet?” His eyes were bright with curiosity—or from the alcohol.
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”
“No, I probably wouldn’t.” He shrugged. “You clearly have an active imagination, though. I think Aunt Euphemia was suitably distressed to hear your parents had been…what did you tell her? Murdered.”
Violet didn’t say anything. What was there to say?
“Your turn to play, Violet.” He waved his hand over the board, then hesitated as he was in the act of leaning back into the cushions. “I say, you’re not offended, are you?” He cleared his throat. “I understand it’s necessary for—”
She cut him off. “For girls like me to play fast and loose with the truth? There, Lord Belvedere, I just all but decimated you. Careless. You lost three.”
He didn’t look at the board. “Violet?” Then again, “Violet? Tell me what’s wrong. You were sad in the carriage, and I brought you here to jolly your spirits. I thought I was doing a mighty fine job until just now. I’m sorry if I offended you by making light of what you choose to tell my aunt to elicit her sympathy. Bravo to you, I say. Aunt Euphemia loves a good tragic story”
“For God’s sake will you stop harping on my storytelling!” Violet threw up her hands. “How many times can a girl take being called a liar and still smile about it? My parents were murdered. Are you satisfied? Yes, I told your aunt, but I spared her the details, and if you value our friendship as you say you do, goodness knows but talk like this is a strange way to go about cultivating it.”
