Beauty and the Earl (9 page)

An hour later, Violet was sitting at the dressing table in the chamber Liam had provided, staring at her reflection as she replayed everything that had transpired between them. She had revealed something of herself, as was her plan…but the knowledge that she had become so vulnerable made her hands shake as she pressed them against her hot cheeks.

There was a knock behind her, and she called out, “Come in.”

In the reflection from the mirror, she saw Olivia come into the room. Her friend’s hair was still down, but she was dressed for dinner.

“Did they perhaps put my small bag in your room by mistake?” Olivia asked as she stepped inside.

Violet motioned to the stack of trunks and luggage that had been deposited in her corner by the time she claimed the room. Rachel had wanted to unpack her, but Violet had refused, insisting on time alone after she had been dressed and her hair fixed.

“Look there, it’s possible. Who knew we had so many things? It’s a little embarrassing.”

“We are women, we
must
have many things. I feel no embarrassment whatsoever.” Olivia laughed as she went to the pile and began moving things around. She glanced up as she went about her work. “Your face is a little grave—did things not go well with the handsome earl?”

Violet strummed her fingers along the top of the dressing table and shook her head. “No, everything went just to plan.”

“Ah ha!” Olivia emerged from the pile with a small bag, and Violet couldn’t help but laugh even though her nerves persisted.

Olivia didn’t excuse herself immediately, but sat down at the end of Violet’s bed and looked at her.

“If everything went ‘just to plan’, as you say, why do you seem so nervous and anxious? It isn’t like you to be so affected by a man.”

Violet wrung her hands. “I-I told him just a little about John Salsworth.”

Olivia stared at her as the bag she had been clutching in her hand slipped away to clatter on the ground.
 

“Why?” Olivia asked, her voice rising. “What would make you be so forthcoming?”

Violet swallowed hard. Her friend’s reaction was making her question the prudence of an action she already doubted.
 

“Have you ever heard of Scheherazade?” she asked.

Her friend shook her head. “You know I’m no scholar. What is a Scheherazade?”

Violet pushed to her feet. “She is the main character of a story written very long ago in a country very far away. I read a translation in French when I was a girl. Essentially it is the story of a king who executes his wives after spending just one night with them, for fear of them cuckolding him.”

“A vast overreaction,” Olivia said with a shake of her head.

Violet shrugged. “That is another discussion entirely. In the story, Scheherazade is given to the king as another in his string of brides. She doesn’t want to die, so on the first night, she tells him a story. Well, part of a story. He’s so interested that he doesn’t kill her and encourages her to tell him more. Every night for a thousand and one nights, she continues to tell him a piece of her tale. By the end, he is in love with her and does not murder her, but keeps her as his bride and queen.”

“Well, I hope you don’t think the earl intends to kill you,” Olivia said.

“No, of course not. But I do think that I, like Scheherazade, must lure him in. Capture his interest.” She sighed. “I give him my trust in the belief that he will return it in time and tell me more about himself so that I might complete my mission for Lord and Lady Rothcastle.”

“How much do you intend to tell him?” Olivia asked.
 

From her expression, Violet saw that her friend was as torn about this idea as she was. As courtesans, they dealt in mystery, not this kind of intimacy.

“I don’t really know,” she admitted. “I know there are things I shall never reveal.”

“You mean about—”

Violet nodded to interrupt her. “Yes. About him. But as for everything else, I’ll have to see how far I need to go to open Liam’s heart and get past his defenses.”

Olivia pursed her lips.

“What is that expression?” Violet asked, folding her arms.
 

“I worry, Violet,” her friend admitted, utterly serious, which was unusual. “You say you are trying to open this man’s heart, but I fear you will be opening your own as well. What if you come to care for him, even love him, because you shared so much of yourself?”

Violet straightened up, her heart clenching with her friend’s pointed question.
 

“I had to consider that, of course,” she admitted. “But I know what we are, Olivia. Courtesans cannot love—we cannot afford it.”

Olivia’s gaze dropped from hers and her cheeks paled. “I-I suppose you are correct about that.”

Violet shrugged, as if to dismiss the topic. “And this man has made it clear he will not want to keep me. If he uncovers my deception, he
certainly
won’t want to keep me. So I do this with no illusion that it is anything more than deception on my part.”

Olivia nodded. “Be careful,” she advised, then stood up. “Now I should finish readying myself before supper.”

Violet smiled at her friend as Olivia slipped from the room. Olivia worried about her, which she appreciated. But she could handle this. She had to.

With a sigh, she moved from the chamber and walked downstairs. Since there was time before supper, she had the perfect opportunity to do a little looking around. She knew full well one could tell a great deal about a person from examining his surroundings.
 

She looked around the wide hallway at the bottom of the stairs. There were many doors and many rooms to explore, so she chose the first one on her right to start with. It was a parlor, though not the one she had been guided to upon her first visit. Like Liam’s bedroom, the room was rather sparse, with minimal decoration and plain furniture. Strange, since his sister had a sense of style. And yet Liam went as minimal as he could in his home.

She walked from the room to the next in the hallway and caught her breath. This was an office, likely Liam’s office, judging from the paperwork stacked on the desk, waiting to be addressed. A parlor couldn’t tell her much, but this room most definitely could.

She moved inside and walked the perimeter of the room slowly. Again, there was little to see and only the work indicated someone bothered to live here at all. There was no art, plain paint colors, the furniture seemed comfortable, but there was nothing with personality to be seen here. It was as if he had come into this house and stripped everything of value and joy out.

Her breath hitched at the thought. It seemed like the man
wanted
to be wrapped in the pain his past had created. As if he shunned anything that might help him move forward in his life.

Once again, Violet thought of his sister and the fear in her eyes when she spoke of him. Lady Rothcastle feared for his future. At the time, Violet had simply filed the information away, but now she wondered…

Was Liam even thinking about a future? Did he believe he would be around for one? Or was his cutting off of everything good around him a symptom of something far more sinister and fearful?

She shivered and pushed those thoughts aside, though she knew she would be watching him far more closely from now on. She stepped up to his desk and looked at the papers there. They were estate business, mostly. A few pieces of correspondence that looked like they had gone unanswered for a while. She was about to turn away when she saw something else.

There was a small framed portrait on the corner of the desk. She reached out, taking it from its stand and turning it toward her.

It was a woman whose picture was in the frame. The artist had rendered her in a seated position, half turned toward him. She was beautiful, with blonde hair and blue eyes. She had a half-smile on her face that was just a touch mischievous.

It was evident who she was, even if Violet hadn’t just met her brother less than a week ago. This was Lady Matilda. The woman who was the center of—and a casualty of—a war.
 

Violet stared at her, so lifelike in this portrait. No wonder she had been so loved. There was just something about her.
 

“Put it back.”

She jumped at the voice behind her and spun around to find Liam standing in the doorway. His face was red and his good hand clenched at his side, while he held the injured one in front of him, as if he could guard his heart with the broken, scarred extremity.

Slowly, she set the picture down as she had been told.
 

“I’m sorry,” she said, moving away from the desk. “I didn’t mean to intrude.”

“But you did,” he hissed out on a short breath.
 

She hesitated, drawn in by the rich, profound emotion on his face. He was angry with her, but also with himself, and she also saw a brief glimpse of a deep well of sadness within him. Her throat seized, and she longed to reach out, but it was evident he would not allow it. He was still too closed off.

She thought again of Scheherazade and wondered what that fictional queen would do in this tense moment.

“You know, I am shocked you haven’t questioned me more about why I came here,” she said, moving away from Matilda’s picture step by step, hoping to create distance between the past and the present.

His brow wrinkled, and confusion replaced the other emotions on his face. Not that she could blame him. Most people would have pressed him on what had just happened. But she couldn’t. Not yet.

“I thought you were just on holiday,” he said after a long pause where he seemed to gather himself.

She smiled, passing him to exit his office and go instead to a parlor across the hall. He followed her, his expression still wary and tense.

“I
was
on holiday,” she admitted. Lied. “But when I found out you were in Bath, I pursued you, didn’t I?”

He nodded. “You did indeed. You think I am not curious about that fact?”

She laughed. “If you are, you have hidden it well.”

He shook his head. “Very well, Miss Milford, tell me. Why did you pursue me?”

She bit her lip. “I had heard you were a prolific lover, which is true. But I also heard other things. The loggerheads you and I have been at in your bed about control, the challenge you have presented me with to surrender to your will…your rumored dominance intrigued me. As I told you, my other lovers have always deferred to me.”

She watched him shift and change with this new, safer topic. The way he watched her was so possessive, like she was already his but hadn’t yet realized it.

It wasn’t true, but it was oh-so-alluring regardless.
 

“You want the surrender I demand?” he asked, his tone very rough.
 

She turned on him and met his gaze evenly. “I am intrigued by it, yes. But I’m afraid you would have to teach me how, for my nature is to seduce and claim and take, just as yours is. But the idea of bending and giving and even breaking is—”

She might have finished that thought, but behind them a servant appeared, clearing his throat. “My lord, Miss Milford, supper is served.”

Violet smiled. She could not have planned the timing better. An interruption at the height of seduction would drive Liam mad all through supper until they could be alone again and she could further delve into the dangerous topic that truly did intrigue her.
 

And she could only imagine what he would do once they were alone after hours of pondering her utter surrender to his every whim.

A servant placed a plate before him, but Liam hardly noticed the steaming, fragrant delicacies prepared for his liking and the liking of his guests. Just as he had done during the previous courses of the meal, all he could do was stare down the table at Violet and think of the scandalous things she had said just an hour before.

Had she brought up his dominance and her interest in such topics simply to make him forget he had found her in his office, holding a portrait of Matilda?

And even if she had…did he care? He was still wrapped up in the idea of taming Violet. Of bringing her to heel and making her give over control in every way.
 

She was such a bold woman that he realized how much of a sacrifice surrender would be, yet she seemed to welcome his dominance.
 

But he only had a few weeks with Violet at best. What they discussed would take far longer. It would involve earning her trust on a deep, physical and emotional level. And that wasn’t something he ever intended to do.

Frustration bloomed in his chest, and he swept up his fork with a grumble of discontent and took a bite of food.

Oblivious to his thoughts, Violet’s friend Olivia hummed with pleasure as she did the same.

“You do have a splendid cook, my lord,” she said. “I envy you these delicious meals every single day and night.”

Liam looked up to answer, but it didn’t appear as if his answer was required. Mal was speaking for him, leaning closer to Olivia and making his interest in the pretty, petite blonde very clear.