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Dropping back onto her bed, she buried her face into her pillow. No one would hear her cry. It wasn’t just Mr. Riley who upset her, though she longed to feel his touch again. It was all the circumstances well beyond her control that dictated her entire life.
She wasn’t sure how long she stayed there, but when her mother stirred, she rose too. Wiping her eyes with the back of her hand, she took a deep breath and straightened her spine. She’d have to lock these feelings away and do her duty for her family.
She pictured Daffodil, her little sister, who was about to turn eighteen. Daffodil was lovely and deserved a brighter future. That thought helped her to calmly dress her hair and put on her best travelling gown. By the time she was done, nearly all the puffiness around her eyes had dissipated. She powdered her forehead, hoping to disguise the lump. Today, she’d meet the Duke of Waverly. No matter how he looked or acted, she’d do her utmost to win his affection and gain a match.
After a quick meal, where her mother assessed her features with narrowed eyes, they climbed back into their carriage.
Frankly, she was surprised her mother didn’t say more but the other woman coughed several times and looked rather puffy around the
eyes herself. She almost asked, but her mother’s disapproving glare stopped her.
Violette was equally nervous during that day’s carriage ride but for entirely different reasons as she once again stared through a rain-soaked window. They’d arrive in the early evening. She was sure they would be allowed a brief rest before she joined the family for a formal dinner where introductions would be made.
She promised herself that she absolutely would not think of Mr. Riley today and especially not this evening, but his image kept popping into her mind as the carriage bumped along. They’d left in the same general direction. Would they see him? Mayhap his carriage would break a wheel and they could once again rescue him. But it was a ridiculous daydream that she pushed away.
“You’re awfully quiet,” her mother said as she sat across from her, holding in another cough. “And your head looks dreadful. What happened?”
“I banged it on my desk last night,” she answered automatically. Her mother would needle it out of her either way.
Her mother gave a humph. “That was foolish. What will the duke think of you with a large lump on your face?”
Her hands fisted at her side. “I couldn’t begin to guess, Mother.”
“He’ll think you’re clumsy and likely foolish,” her mother snapped back. “Why yesterday, of all days, did you have to ruin your forehead?”
She clenched her teeth. It was a pointless conversation. “I did it on purpose in the hopes of being rejected. It gives me a great deal of pleasure to be dismissed by potential suitors as we travel from door to door begging for a man to take me.”
“Violette.” Her mother smacked her hand down on the sill of the window. “That is the most ridiculous comment I’ve ever heard.”
She bit back the words that crowded her mouth. She wanted to say they were no more ridiculous than her mother’s question, but she chose to say nothing instead.
“I raised you to be more polite than that.” Her mother folded her hands in her lap looking tired.
Violette looked away, hoping to calm her jangled nerves. “I was raised to be the sacrificial lamb.”
“Enough,” her mother’s voice sliced through carriage. “What has gotten into you today?”
Violette didn’t want to answer right away. She’d met a man who made her heart race. She knew that Mr. Riley wasn’t interested in marriage, but how grand would it be to meet a man whom she was excited about and to have the possibility of marrying him? “I’m nervous.”
“That does not give you the right to be rude to your elders.” Her mother snapped back.
“Please, let me be, at least for today.” Violette leaned back in her seat. She needed quiet to compose herself.
Silence, thick and tense, filled the carriage until her mother finally answered, “Fine. I don’t have the strength to argue with you anyway.”
Relief made her shoulders sag before she looked back over to assess her mother again. That was not something she would normally say. Was her mother all right?
But the older woman had closed her eyes. It was just as well. Violette didn’t want to ask her mother any more questions during this ride. She needed her wits to prepare for tonight.
Heavy dread settled in her stomach. How would she get through this night?
Chapter Five
Theo sat in his mother’s private salon as she assessed him. Her mouth turned down slightly at the corners, while her nose managed to turn up. “What is that growth of hair on your face?” she asked.
“It’s called a beard, Mother.” It took all his energy not to smirk.
Her brows drew together. “A beard is trimmed and neat. That looks like a wild animal.” She waved her hand toward him. “And your skin…”
