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But he was not interested in getting a wife. Or perhaps just not her. It had been in his words, the way he’d slumped back in his chair as her mother prodded.
She understood. He was free to travel the world, move to Barbados. Why would he want to be saddled with a wife, and then children, along with her family? Her sister would need a suitable dowry in order to make a match, her brother help with his earldom. Frankly, she’d be fortunate if any man agreed to take on her troubles.
They approached her door and she turned to Mr. Riley. There weren’t words to express that she understood he wouldn’t want her and how she appreciated his help this evening. “Thank you for a lovely meal.”
He gave a terse nod. “And you as well.”
As she inserted her key into the lock, he turned on heel and disappeared down the hall. Her mother followed her into her own room, which didn’t surprise Violette in the least. Their rooms connected and her mother would want to discuss the evening. “What did you think of him, darling?” Her mother smiled as she used Violette’s pet name.
“Don’t be silly mother.” She set the key on the desk and then settled herself in a chair. “He doesn’t want to marry; it was in every word he didn’t say.”
Her mother gave her a pointed look. “Men never want to marry. And he is interested in you. Did you hear the way he defended you?”
Violette tried not to huff. “He only said that because of the gentlemen behind me.”
“Jealousy is the first clear sign of interest.” Her mother gave her a knowing smile.
Violette took a steadying breath. “We’ve two appointments already.”
Her mother crossed to where she sat and took the chair opposite her. “A woman can’t have too many options. I can see by the cut of his coat, the quality of his horse, that he is successful. I know he isn’t titled but he might make a better match for you in several ways. I know you’ve wished to travel and he’s quite handsome. You could be happy.”
Violette blinked, then blinked again, a few tears stinging her eyes. Was her mother concerned about her future? About her happiness?
She stood, wishing to hug her mother, but the other woman held up her hand. “Don’t get all sentimental. If the Duke of Waverly offers, we will take it and not look back.”
Violette sat again, her momentary bout of emotion tucked back under its lid, the thought of the unknown duke stealing all her excitement. What would the Duke of Waverl
y look like or be like that she was his first option? It nearly made her shudder. “I understand,” she whispered.
Her mother gave a tense nod. “I know you are making great sacrifices for all of us.”
Violette waved her hand. “It’s all right.” Then she turned her face away. “I am tired after a long day of travel. If you don’t mind, I think I shall retire.”
Her mother stood. “Of course. I will see you in the morning.”
Violette waited until the door closed and then she slumped back in her chair. She’d like to toss it across the room. Instead, she rose and began undoing the buttons of her dress. Perhaps being out of this clothing would make her feel less trapped.
But it didn’t help. It wasn’t the dress that was making her skin itch, it was her destiny. After taking off her layers of clothing, she pulled the pins from her hair and raked the brush through her long dark tresses. It pulled at her scalp but she didn’t stop. In fact, the pain was an outlet for her frustration. She changed into her night rail, then crossed the room to braid her hair. It was a routine she followed most every day. They’d let go most of their servants and she found she liked attending herself.
Tonight, however, as she twisted her hair into submission, she dropped the brush on the hardwood floor. Letting out a cry of annoyance, she swooped down to pick it up. Her future didn’t normally irritate her so much but something about meeting Mr. Riley had stirred her longing for more. Then her mother had to go and dangle the possibility in front of her before pulling it away again. She snapped up the brush, and bumped her head on the dressing table as she moved to stand again.
“Bullocks,” she cursed, a good deal louder than she’d meant to. She rarely used such words but she couldn’t seem to hold it in tonight. The bump smarted terribly, making her even more frustrated.
A soft knock sounded at the door and she said another curse, mentally, anyhow. Her mother had likely heard her and was, at this very moment, preparing another lecture on ladylike decorum. But the next sound stopped her dead. Mr. Riley called from the hall. “Violette. Are you all right?”
She jumped up from where she sat. “Fine.” She stood next to the desk, her limbs filled with unused energy, not sure if she should race to the door or sit back in the chair.
“Are you sure?” he called again. “That was a very loud thump.”
She began crossing the room. “It was just my brush.”
“And then your head.” He chuckled. “I know the difference. I’ve heard a good many sailors hit their heads. The beams on the ship are quite low.”
Well that was blasted convenient. She brushed her head to find a lump already forming. “I’m fine. I will seek my mother if I am not.”
“Should I get her?” he asked.
“No,” she called back, far too quickly. Her mother would have a great many questions as to why Mr. Riley knew she’d bumped her head. The last thing she wanted to do, as her temples began to throb, was answer them. She’d been with her mother enough for one day.
