Lady Traveller's Guide To Happily Ever After
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No one ever said aloud what the real problem was between mother and daughter. The true crux of the difficulty between them was simply that the day after her wedding, for the first time in twenty-one years, Violet Branham had at last found her courage, her voice and—thanks to James—her independence. There was nothing Mother hated more than a daughter she could not control.
“How is Father? And Caroline?”
“Your father never changes.” Mother shrugged. Father was a good enough sort, Violet supposed, although she barely knew the man. He might have had more of an interest in his children had they been born sons but as they were female he had abdicated all decisions regarding Violet and her sister to Mother.
“Caroline is about to be engaged to the son of a duke.” Mother paused. “Not his heir, mind you, but a younger son with three brothers ahead of him. Still, he has a significant income and one never knows what might happen in the future. Your sister could be a duchess one day.”
“We can only hope,” Violet murmured. One did wonder if Caroline’s prospective fiancé’s family should be warned as Mother would cheerfully do away with an entire line of succession to achieve her ambitions. If she couldn’t be a duchess herself, a daughter for a duchess would do.
“The engagement will be officially announced at a ball next month, as befitting such an august match. I expect you to attend.” Mother pinned her with a firm look. “Will you still be here?”
“My plans are uncertain at the moment.” She was not about to tell her mother she would be staying in England before she told James.
“Your plans are always uncertain.” Disapproval rang in Mother’s voice. “You wander aimlessly around the world and rarely return to England—where you should be.”
“On the contrary, Mother. It’s not the least bit aimless.”
“It’s not the way a proper wife should behave.” Mother’s lips thinned. “There have been rumors you know.”
“Yes, I know, Mother. You never fail to write me about every rumor or bit of gossip about my husband, for which I am most grateful.”
“The rumors are not just about him.” A warning sounded in Mother’s voice.
“Oh, good. I would hate for him to have all the fun.”
For a long moment Mother glared and Violet glared right back. There was a time when Violet would have backed down. Said something placating and apologized. It was easier and peace would be restored. She’d stopped that years ago when she’d realized capitulating to her mother would make no difference in their relationship but would make a great deal of difference in how Violet felt about herself.
“I assure you, Mother, any rumors about me are greatly exaggerated with no more than a morsel of truth in them at best.”
“I should hope so!” Mother studied her intently. “You and Lord Ellsworth were seen dancing together.”
“He’s an excellent dancer and he is my husband.”
“That has never seemed to matter to you before.”
Violet shrugged. “You wanted me to have a husband and I have one. You never particularly cared how he and I felt about one another.”
Mother ignored her. “And you left the ball together.”
“We are married and we do reside in the same house.”
“No one has ever seen you together before.” Mother’s eyes narrowed as if she were trying to see into her daughter’s very soul. “Have you and your husband reconciled?”
“It’s really none of your concern,” Violet said blithely.
“Of course it’s my concern. I am your mother. I have only your best interests at heart.”
Best interests? It was all Violet could do to keep her temper in check. “Really, Mother? When did you begin having my best interests at heart?”
“I have always put you and your sister above all else,” Mother said in a lofty manner, which might have been most effective had Violet been able to recall even once when that was true.
“Did you put my interest above all else when you forced me to marry a man who didn’t want to marry me?” And there it was. The charge she had avoided making for almost six years.
“You were ruined!” Mother’s eyes widened in indignation. “My insistence on marriage saved you from a life of being alone.”
“And what do you think my life has been thus far?” The words were out of Violet’s mouth before she could stop them. She wasn’t sure why she’d said that. She hadn’t been alone these past years. Far from it. She’d had Cleo and any number of friends abroad. Why, she was the least alone person she knew. And if she didn’t have a husband who cared for her, well, that was the price to be paid for independence.
“Your life would have been perfect if you hadn’t been so headstrong.”
“You know nothing about my life, Mother.”
“I daresay I know far more than you suspect.” Mother stood. “Has your husband finally put his foot down and demanded you return home and pick up your responsibilities as his wife?”
Violet rose to her feet. “My husband does not put his foot down nor would I allow him to do so.”
“That might be one of the problems.” Mother sniffed.
“You simply will not accept that you forfeited the right to ask me anything when you forced me into marriage.”
“Nonetheless, I am asking if you and your husband—”
“Why do you care? What possible difference does it make to you?”
“People talk, Violet, and they’ve been talking about you for nearly six years. It’s a source of constant humiliation for the entire family. Why, we’re lucky your scandalous life hasn’t affected Caroline’s impending engagement!”
“Well, he is only a younger son, Mother.”
“If you and your husband would just come to your senses and—” Mother gasped. “Dear Lord, you’re here to ask for a divorce, aren’t you?”
“That is no concern of yours.”
Mother sucked in a sharp breath. “There has never been a divorce in this family. The scandal will ruin us all. I insist—”
“For God’s sakes, Mother,” Violet snapped, “that’s quite enough. I am not asking for a divorce and yes, I am back to stay.” She drew a deep breath. Mother was an expert at the art of gossip and might well be useful at dissipating any untoward rumors about Violet and James’s apparent reconciliation. “After all these years apart, James and I have at last acknowledged we share the kind of mad, passionate love every woman dreams of! There now, are you happy?”
“Not at all because that’s utter nonsense and I don’t believe you for a moment.” Mother huffed. “One doesn’t stay away for years then wake up one morning to discover true love was there all along.”
“Actually, Mother...” Violet raised her chin. “One does.”
“My dear, darling wife.” As if on cue, James strode into the room, pulled her into his arms and gazed deeply into her eyes. “It’s been but a few hours and yet it seems like an eternity since I left your side.”
“Does it?” What on earth was he doing? Violet gazed up into his blue eyes, dark and endless and...amused?
“When we’re apart, I count the minutes until we’re together again.” He lowered his head to hers as if he intended to kiss her.
Violet’s breath caught.
Mother cleared her throat.
“Oh, I am sorry. I had no idea anyone else was here.” He released Violet, but slid one arm around her waist in a blatant display of affection. Blatant displays of affection were every bit as bad in Mother’s view as wives not being proper.
“James, you remember my mother.”
“Yes of course.” His arm tightened around her in a manner that could only be called possessive. It was oddly satisfying.
“Lord Ellsworth.” Mother eyed him suspiciously. “I should take my leave.”
“Delightful to see you again.” He nodded toward the door. “Andrews will see you out.”
“Violet, I expect your attendance at your sister’s ball.”
“Good day, Mother.”
“Good day, Lady Cranton,” James said and nuzzled the side of Violet’s neck as if Mother wasn’t there. A shiver ran down her spine. She really should protest but how would that look?
“Dear Lord,” Mother muttered and marched toward the door.
Violet steeled herself against the melting sensation of James’s lips against that surprisingly sensitive spot where her neck met her shoulder and waited until the parlor door closed behind her mother. Even then it was far harder to get the words out than one would expect. She drew a deep breath. “What do you think you’re doing?”
CHAPTER FIVE
“I’M CONVINCING YOUR mother as to our reconciliation.” James kissed that delicious juncture of neck and shoulder. Her scent—an arousing mix of jasmine and spice—wrapped around him and it was all he could do not to pull her tighter against him. “As she is one of the most notorious gossips in London, it seemed an excellent idea.”
“Well, she’s gone now.” Violet pushed out of his arms. “You can stop that.”
He grinned. “I rather enjoyed it.”
“You would.”
Given the charming flush on her cheeks and the look in her eyes, so did she, although she’d never admit it. Still, it was interesting. His grin widened.
“Nonetheless, it was entirely inappropriate. This is a farce, James. Nothing more. You do need to remember that.” Her voice was firm even if there was the tiniest breathless quality to it. That too was interesting.
“Did you say that just to annoy your mother?”
“Probably.” Her brows drew together in confusion. “Say what?”
“That you and I had reconciled. That after all these years we share a mad, passionate love.”
“Surely I didn’t say anything of the sort.” A blush washed up her face. Oh, he liked that. “Did I?”
“Your words exactly.”
“One says all sort of things when one fails to give due consideration to one’s words.” She blew a long breath. “Yes, I suppose I did say some of it to annoy her. But really, what one says in the heat of—”
“Passion?”
“Annoyance cannot be taken as irrefutable.” She cast him a questioning look. “So you remember my mother?”
“She continues to haunt my dreams.” He shivered. James would never forget how adamant Lady Cranton had been that they marry. How angry she’d been at him—justifiably—but how angry she’d been at Violet, as well. It wasn’t at all fair. As if any of this had been Violet’s fault.
“There is nothing my mother finds more scandalous or improper than mad, passionate love.”
“Actually, I was wondering about the rest of it.” He adopted a casual tone. “About staying in London. With your husband.” He held his breath. “Did you say that part to annoy her, as well?”
“No. I had already come to that decision.” She squared her shoulders. “I like my life, James. Three years seems a small enough price to pay for my independence and my freedom.”
“So you’ll do it for the money?” he said slowly. Relief mixed with a tinge of disappointment. Surely he couldn’t expect her to do it for any other reason. Still...it had been a long night and he’d done a great deal of thinking. All about her. Or rather, about them. Although he’d never not thought about her in one way or another through the years.
In the beginning, he’d gone on with his life as if he’d never married at all. In truth, his drinking, carousing and meaningless encounters with women had increased after Violet left. James blamed it on guilt. It was easy to forget what a cad be was, how he had ruined her life, if he was inebriated or had an anonymous woman in his bed. After he passed the second anniversary of his marriage, the appeal of raucous behavior, random women and drunken stupors began to fade. It was around that time too that Uncle Richard had been struck by a violent but blessedly brief illness and James had begun learning what was required to follow in his uncle’s footsteps. Upon later reflection, he acknowledged that was the true beginning of adulthood.
Violet raised a shoulder in a casual shrug as if money was as good a reason as any.
His brow rose. “You needn’t act as if you were doing me a great favor.”
“Oh, but I am doing you a great favor.”
“You have as much to lose as I do.”
She met his gaze directly. “No, I don’t.”
“Oh?”
She hesitated then shrugged. “It’s not important at the moment.” She turned and headed toward the stairs.
“It sounded important.” He strode after her.
“I’m not going to discuss this now.” She reached the grand stairway and started up. “But I’m not agreeing to this because I have no other choice.”
“Yes, I’ve heard about your choices,” he called after her.
Violet Branham, Lady Ellsworth, his wife, might not be aware of it but there had been nearly as much gossip about her over the past six years as there had been about him. He knew the truth about his behavior, but he had no idea if the stories he’d heard about her were accurate. Of course, some came from Duncan, Viscount Welles, who had mentioned running into Violet somewhere in Europe in recent years. Welles was an old friend, one of the very men who had issued the ill-fated challenge to kiss his fiancée on that night six years ago. Even so, the information was not firsthand. Regardless, what James heard about Violet’s behavior had grown increasingly bothersome as his own conduct had become more respectable.
“My choices?” She swiveled on the stairs and glared down at him. “What do you mean by that?”
“Never mind.” He waved off her question. Discussing this now was a mistake. After all, they had three years ahead of them. “It doesn’t matter.”
“I suspect it does matter,” she snapped.
Apparently, she was not going to let the subject drop. Very well. Let the games begin. “You have not been entirely inconspicuous these past six years. There have been rumors, gossip.”
Her eyes narrowed. “What, exactly, have you heard?”
“You said yourself nothing can be done about the past.” It was his turn to adopt an offhand manner, as if none of this was of any significance. “What’s done is done.”
“Nonetheless, I would like to know what you have heard.”
“I doubt that.” He turned and strode toward the library. This was not the sort of talk a man had with his wife without the benefit of spirits.
“You cannot make vague, unsubstantiated charges and then just walk away,” she called after him.
“Actually, I can.” He stepped into the library, snapped the door closed behind him and crossed the room to the cabinet where Uncle Richard kept convenient bottles of brandy, whiskey and assorted spirits.
A moment later the door crashed open and he tried not to grin. He’d suspected this new Violet wouldn’t be able to resist continuing the conversation.
“If you want to start something like this at least have the courage to finish it!”
James took a bottle of whiskey and poured a glass. “Would you like a glass?”
“Goodness, James, it’s barely past noon.”
“If we’re going to start the first day of the next three years reliving our sordid pasts, I for one am going to need fortification.”
“No doubt.” She moved to him, plucked the glass from his hand and took a sip. “My past is not the least bit sordid, thank you very much.”
He eyed the glass. “I believe that’s mine.”
“Not anymore.” She smirked and took another sip. “And I prefer to think of it as clearing the air. If we’re going to spend the next three years together as a happy couple in public, I daresay it’s best to get everything out in the open. To alleviate the possibility of untoward surprises.”
“We wouldn’t want that.” He poured a glass for himself.
“I’d rather not appear shocked when some well-meaning acquaintance decides it’s time I was informed of all of my husband’s indiscretions.”
He sipped his drink and studied her. As curious as he was about the rumors regarding her behavior, he wasn’t at all sure confessing his own transgressions was wise. Fuel on the fire and that sort of thing. “It seems to me, we have a great deal to discuss regarding the past six years. Are you certain you wish to start with this particular topic?”
“Why not?” A distinct challenge shone in her eyes. “I must say I’m surprised you’ve had the time to pay any attention to rumors about me when there’s been so much gossip about you.”
His tone sharpened. “One does tend to note gossip about one’s wife.”
“As one tends to note rumors about one’s husband.” Her voice hardened. “Something like, oh, say, his dalliance with an opera singer.”
“Or her liaison with a French count.”
Her teeth clenched. “His affair with an American actress.”
“Hers with an Italian sculptor,” he said sharply. That tidbit came straight from Welles.
“His with any number of merry widows!”
“Hers with some talentless Greek poet!”
Her eyes widened. Apparently he’d hit the mark with that charge. Not that it gave him any satisfaction. Until now, he wasn’t sure he really believed any of the rumors. This was Violet, after all.
She choked back a laugh.
Although she had certainly changed. “You find this amusing?”
“Yes, actually I do.” She grinned. “Don’t you?”
“No!” he snapped. “I don’t find any of this amusing.”
“You used to find much of life amusing.”
“I am not the same man I used to be.”
She snorted in disbelief.
“I shall make a deal with you, Violet,” he said evenly. “I won’t throw your affairs in your face if you don’t throw my affairs in mine. We’ll leave the past in the past.”
“I don’t know. Throwing your indiscretions in your face sounds rather enjoyable to me.” She sipped her whiskey and considered him. Apparently, she was not going to make this easy.
“What I’m proposing is a truce.”
“I was unaware we were engaged in battle.”
His gaze met hers directly. “We have been engaged in a game of warfare since the night I kissed you on a darkened terrace.”
“Nonsense.” She scoffed. “We haven’t even seen each other.”
“Am I wrong?”
“I suppose it has been something of a battle albeit a silent one.”
He sipped his drink. “Perhaps we could be, well, friends again.”
“Unwilling partners perhaps but friends?” She tossed back the rest of her whiskey in a manner any man would be proud of. “I don’t think I can be your friend.”
“Nonetheless, you are my wife.”
“Six years ago, you didn’t want a wife.”
Six years ago I was an idiot. “And yet I have one who now apparently has to act like a wife.” He drew a deep breath. “As I intend to act like a husband.”
Her brow arched upward. “Do you?”
“It’s what Uncle Richard wanted.” He paused. “We were friends once, Violet, you and I.”
“Once was a very long time ago, James.” She set her glass down on a nearby table and headed for the door. “Lady Higginbotham and her friends will be here for dinner at half-past seven. Don’t be late. And do dress appropriately.”
“That sounded very much like a wife to me,” he called after her.
She glanced over her shoulder. “Oh, my dear James, that’s just the beginning.”
“EXCELLENT DINNER, LORD ELLSWORTH,” Lady Blodgett said with a pleasant smile. “Do give my compliments to your cook.”
“Mrs. Clarke will be pleased to hear you enjoyed it.” James smiled.
Lady Blodgett and Mrs. Fitzhew-Wellmore were the friends of Mrs. Higginbotham’s she’d said were going to help her oversee the conditions of the will. All three ladies were of advanced years although one could see they must have been quite lovely in their younger days. Marcus and Mrs. Ryland completed their company. Marcus had noted privately earlier in the evening how he and James were horribly outnumbered and they should be on their toes. If this was indeed a game there were three distinct factions as evidenced by the seating at the table. James sat at the head at the table, Violet opposite at the far end. Mrs. Ryland sat next to Violet and beside Marcus who was on James’s right. The three older ladies sat on the other side.
Mrs. Higginbotham proclaimed before they were seated that there would be no discussion of Uncle Richard’s will until after dinner. Both James and Marcus spent the better part of the meal doing their best to charm the females at the table. Which did seem to work well with the exception of Violet—who even while she directed the conversation around the table was cool and aloof at least toward James—and Mrs. Ryland, whose distaste for James was only barely concealed. Although she did not appear entirely immune to Marcus’s charms even if it did seem the widow was trying to resist the engaging solicitor. Apparently, she was reluctant to throw her lot in with the enemy.
All in all the meal was pleasant enough if one ignored the superficial nature of the conversation and the currents eddying just below the surface.
“So.” Mrs. Higginbotham looked around the table. “Shall we begin?”
“Perhaps we should retire to the parlor,” Violet said in her best lady of the house manner. Her mother would be proud. James stifled a laugh.
“Oh, I think here at the table where we are all on equal footing is preferable,” Mrs. Higginbotham said and looked at James. “Unless you object?”
“Not at all, Mrs. Higginbotham.” He smiled at the older lady. No doubt the next three years would be fraught with problems regarding her interpretation of Uncle Richard’s stipulations. It was not too soon to try to get her in his corner.
Her eyes narrowed slightly as if she knew exactly what he was thinking. “Excellent.”
Violet signaled Andrews, who nodded and left the room, returning almost at once with decanters of brandy, port and sherry. Andrews obviously anticipated the company staying at the table and James wondered if Violet and Uncle Richard had done so during her visits.
Once the table was cleared and they all had glasses of brandy or port, the older ladies insisting they preferred the more traditional lady’s offering of sherry, Mrs. Higginbotham began. “I gather the two of you have agreed to abide by the terms of the will.”
James met Violet’s gaze and they nodded.
“Excellent.” Mrs. Higginbotham looked at Marcus. “Shall we take Richard’s stipulations one at a time?”
Marcus nodded. “Whatever you prefer.”
“Very well.” Mrs. Higginbotham thought for a moment. “First, is the requirement that you live together for the next two years, eleven months, one week and three days or rather two days now with no more than fourteen days spent apart in any given year.” Mrs. Higginbotham’s gaze circled the table.
“That seems fairly straightforward to me. Are there any questions?”
“Is there any requirement as to where we reside? Are we confined to England?” Violet asked.
“As long as the two of you are living together, under the same roof, not at all.” Mrs. Higginbotham paused. “Although it would be most difficult for Lady Blodgett, Mrs. Fitzhew-Wellmore and myself to oversee the terms of the will if you chose to live abroad. In Rome for example.”
“In which case, Effie, Poppy and I would feel it necessary to reside with you.” Lady Blodgett smiled in an agreeable manner that in no way negated her threat.
“I for one have always wanted to live abroad.” Excitement rang in Mrs. Fitzhew-Wellmore’s voice.
“I don’t intend to live anywhere but England.” James’s tone was more than a little pompous. Where on earth had that come from? He’d never been even remotely pompous before. “And I don’t consider it confinement.”
Violet’s jaw tightened but her tone was cordial. “I wasn’t suggesting we live somewhere else. I was simply wondering if it was possible to travel.”
“Of course it is, dear.” Mrs. Fitzhew-Wellmore, who did seem the nicest of the older ladies, smiled at Violet. “You’d simply have to take him with you.”
“I have no desire to travel,” James said in an offhand manner. His reticence to travel had more to do with the violent reaction of his stomach to being on a ship than anything else. Even the rocking motion of lengthy train trips, especially those through mountainous areas, brought on a nasty queasiness. When he had discovered that tendency he had blamed it on an overindulgence in spirits. He really didn’t care to find out if he was right or not.