Haunting Violet
Page 30

Several footmen raced toward us. “What happened? Are you hurt, miss?”
I shook my head, trying to find my voice. “The urn fell.”
“You ought to be more careful,” the man with the pin said to me in a way that made me think he was actually saying something else. In the shadows of the hallway, he looked gaunt. His suit may as well have hung on a scarecrow. He finally looked at one of the footmen. “This urn ought to be better secured. Lord Jasper will need to be informed. One would assume he doesn’t plan to have his guests flattened.” His gaze swung back to me. “Do you wish for us to summon your mother?”
“No!” I could just imagine her response should she be taken away from her admirers. “I’m perfectly well, thank you. My friend is waiting for me.” I swallowed, my heart still racing inside my chest. My corset felt tighter than usual. Even though he made me uncomfortable with his staring, he had saved me from injury. I curtsied. He bowed and left.
I stopped the footman. “Who was that man?” I asked him.
“Mr. Travis, miss. Right kind fellow he is too, but tormented. Paces the halls all night and doesn’t sleep.”
Mr. Travis.
I must have gone pale because the footman peered at me nervously. “Are you ill, miss?”
“No, just the shock, I expect.” I gave him a wobbly smile before fleeing into the safety of the ballroom. Inside the doors, Xavier stopped me before I could find Elizabeth and tell her I had found our Mr. Tra—, though I was no nearer to knowing what that actually meant. He was clearly up to something; men didn’t lurk about gardens in the middle of the night or pace endlessly for the good of their health. And he stared a lot.
But he had saved me just now.
“Good evening, Miss Willoughby.” Xavier smelled of soap and cologne. He was safe, polite, and unlikely to push an urn on me. I felt my pulse return to normal.
“Miss Willoughby, would you do me the honor of this dance?” he asked as the strains of a waltz fell like soft rain around us. I took his arm and he led me out onto the dance floor. The evening might yet regain some of its luster. Xavier held me close enough that I could feel his breath on my hair. His hand was warm on my waist. I could forget about everything else and let him spin me in circles, the other dancers a blur of colors around us. It was like being caught in a kaleidoscope.
“I’ve never seen you more beautiful,” he said. He held me like I was delicate, made of porcelain and lace. I was neither of those things but I smiled nonetheless.
“Thank you.”
We danced until I felt flushed and nearly dizzy. When the music faded, Xavier bowed again and I curtsied. “Miss Willoughby, if I might be so bold as to ask you to accompany me into the gardens? The moon is quite lovely on the roses, or so I hear.”
I smiled, placing my hand on his forearm. Everyone knew couples stole away into the gardens at a ball to kiss. I widened my eyes at Elizabeth as we passed her. She muffled a giggle behind her glove. I hoped I wasn’t blushing.
The evening was warm with a bright moon pouring light like milk onto the trees and the flowers. The white roses glowed. Fireflies darted between the oak trees in the grove, barely visible. Couples meandered over the lawn, and a handful of gentlemen smoked cheroots and laughed in the corner of the veranda. Xavier and I walked along the flagstone path, and I trailed my fingers over the flowers, releasing the scent of petals and perfume.
“I think you must know, Miss Willoughby, that I admire you greatly.” I looked away, blushing for certain this time. “I hope you feel the same way I do.” He stopped and turned so that he was standing in front of me. His hair gleamed in the pale light. “When we return to the city, I should like to speak to your mother.”
My breath caught. He could only mean one thing by talking to my mother—he meant to offer marriage. Marriage to me, barely sixteen and not even out yet. My heart was beating erratically. Part of me was thrilled and flattered and eager to be out of my mother’s house. Another part of me was nervous and scared. What would happen if he ever found out about mother’s “gifts,” and my part of the deception? Would he ever forgive me? Would his parents and his friends snub me? And what would Colin say when he heard? Would he ever stop sneering when he said Xavier’s name? Or was he even now giggling with the dairy maid?
I wanted to wipe my damp palms on my skirt but I knew it would leave streaks on the silk. I should be ecstatic. And it wasn’t as if I had other options. We couldn’t carry on deceiving widows forever.
And a declaration of love in a moonlit garden was what all girls dreamed of, wasn’t it? I was just giddy with nerves was all, and tired. Between screeching ghosts and falling urns, it was no wonder I was having difficulty catching up. And besides, Mother would no doubt push for a long engagement. She would want to enjoy all of the benefits of a society nuptial while she could. I would have plenty of time to accustom myself.
Xavier must have misread my silence. He pressed my hand to his mouth. “Violet, if I may call you that?”
I nodded. If we were going to be married, I suppose I ought to allow him permission to use my first name.
“Violet, you are so lovely. I know we will suit. I just know it.”
He leaned down and kissed me then, pressing his mouth against mine. His hands cupped my shoulders, holding me upright as if he thought I might swoon. His lips were soft, warm. He pulled me closer as music from the ballroom coiled around us like mist, all harps and weeping violins.