Brenda Joyce (16 page)
Authors: The Finer Things
Violette stared after him. She felt that she had made the right decision.
“Violette,” Catherine exclaimed, smiling with pleasure. She gripped Violette’s hands, kissing her cheek. “It’s so good to see you! You left Tamrah in such haste—without even saying good-bye or leaving a forwarding address.”
“How are you, dear?” the countess asked, her blue eyes alight.
“Fine, thank you,” Violette said, hardly able to believe that these ladies were so thrilled to see her. And she was thrilled to see them. They were surely the nicest people in the world. “An’ you?”
“We are well,” the countess said cheerfully. “Lord Harding had some business in town, so I decided to accompany him, as did Jon.”
“And I could not possibly remain in the country,” Catherine said as easily. “Father is so busy hunting that if I had stayed at Dearfield Way it is quite like being alone.”
“Well, I am real glad to see you both,” Violette said firmly.
“Violette, do you work here?” Catherine asked, puzzled.
Violette blushed. She was well aware that real ladies did not work. But she held her head high and said firmly, “I do. An’ I like it a lot. Lady Allister has been wonderful to me. I been learnin’ all about the business.”
“We heard about the poor state of affairs which Sir Thomas left you burdened with,” the countess said softly. “Are you all right, dear?”
Violette nodded. “I got no choices, me lady. He didn’t leave me with nuthin’. I had to find me a job. Actually, Blake got me hired here.” She had to smile.
Catherine and the countess exchanged glances. The countess laid her hand on Violette’s shoulder. “I see. Was this, then, his idea?”
“No, it was mine. I do like it here. There’s so much to see, so much to do. I been learnin’ all that I can.”
“That is very commendable, and very brave of you, my dear,” the countess said.
“I finish me trainin’ tomorrow,” Violette said enthusiastically. Lord Farrow had been her first sale.
“Violette,” Catherine said, unsmiling. “What did Lord Farrow
want? He seemed to be very interested in you.”
want? He seemed to be very interested in you.”
Violette cast her eyes down. Had it been so obvious? “He came here to buy a scarf. But he invited me to drive with him in the park.” She looked up with a small, uncertain smile. “I refused.”
“You did the right thing. It is not proper to drive with a gentleman unless one has a chaperone,” Catherine said firmly.
“Lady Allister wouldn’t like me drivin’ with a customer,” Violette said.
“No, I don’t think she would,” Catherine replied.
“Violette, perhaps you should know. Farrow has quite a reputation. He is not very, honorable where beautiful women are concerned,” the countess said frankly. “It is best that you stay away from him.”
Violette nodded. So Blake had been right. She couldn’t help feeling somewhat disappointed. It would have been thrilling to have a man like that fall in love with her and court her. Then, “Can I help you both? Did you come to shop? Bein’ as Theresa is busy, I’m allowed to serve you.”
“Oh, yes,” the countess began, but at that point Lady Allister entered the shop from the back room, saw Lady Harding, and sailed forward, smiling. The two women began to chat.
Catherine shifted so her back was to the pair, while she herself faced Violette. “Violette, are you certain that you are all right?”
“Yes, Catherine, I am.” Violette hesitated. “Have you seen Blake?”
“Yes, I had dinner with him and the family last night. He did not mention that he had seen you, or that he had helped you procure employment.” Her brow furrowed.
Violette bit her lip. “I see.” She hadn’t even been worth a passing reference. Or a small visit. Or anything.
And then she thought about his incredible gift. She had gone to his bank and opened an account there. If Blake had been present, she had been unaware of it, for she hadn’t seen him. He was, she thought, incomprehensible.
“Violette,” Catherine asked, “when
did
you see Blake?”
did
you see Blake?”
Violette was taken by surprise. She fidgeted. “I went to see him. ’E told me he would help me with me finances before I left Tamrah.”
Catherine nodded, regarding her closely. “It is odd that he never mentioned it.” Then she shrugged and put her arm around Violette. “But in any case, it is so good to see you.
Now we must exchange addresses so we can visit from time to time.”
Now we must exchange addresses so we can visit from time to time.”
Violette managed a smile—recalling Blake’s reaction to her tiny, horrid flat. Although she had moved to Knightsbridge, with Ralph coming and going as he pleased, she didn’t particularly wish to invite Catherine over. “I been stayin’ at a hotel,” she said. Then, “Do you wish to shop?”
And Catherine, diverted, smiled and agreed.
The shop was closing; it was five in the afternoon. But as Violette began pulling down the shades per Lady Allister’s orders, she stilled. There was no mistaking the sleek black phaeton driving toward the store. Her heart skipped too many beats to count. Violette, frozen, watched Blake alight from the carriage.
He had come. He had finally come to see how she was faring in her new job. He had finally come to see her. She felt faint.
“Violette? Are you daydreaming?” Theresa asked.
Violette started as Blake approached from outside. “No, I … er … Lord Blake is here.”
Theresa, plump and blond, gave Violette an odd glance. “Perhaps you had better unlock the door and let him in.”
Violette hurried to obey. But her eager smile vanished at the strained expression on Blake’s face. He bowed briefly, then entered the shop. “Good afternoon, Lady Goodwin.”
“G’d afternoon, Blake,” Violette said. “I mean, Lord Blake.” She twisted her hands. Was he still angry with her? But what had she done wrong!
He eyed her as Lady Allister hurried out of the back room. “My lord!” she cried, hands extended. “Another pleasant surprise?”
Blake took her hands in his and kissed her on the cheek. He was smiling warmly. “How are you, Lady Allister?”
“I have had a very good week.” Allister glanced from Blake to Violette. Her brows lifted questioningly. She said, “Lady Goodwin has been a model employee. She has thrown herself into her duties here with all her heart.”
Violette ducked her head, filled with pleasure, for it was Lady Allister’s first direct compliment to her. But not before she caught Blake’s eye.
Blake said, no longer smiling, “I cannot say that I am surprised.”
“Thank you for bringing her to me,” Lady Allister said.
“I wish to speak with Lady Goodwin,” Blake said flatly. “Privately. Is she finished for the day?”
Violette could not imagine what he wished to speak about, but she did not like his look or his tone. Trouble was coming and she felt her insides curdling. How she wished that he had smiled at her the way he had smiled at Lady Allister. What had she done now?
“Of course. Good night, Lady Goodwin. Until tomorrow.”
“Thank you, Lady Allister,” Violette said, casting a searching glance at Blake.
He gestured toward the door. “Let us walk outside.”
Violette nodded. Blake followed her out onto the overcast street. It had been raining earlier, and the air was damp and pleasantly cool.
Blake took her elbow and they began walking. Violette looked at him nervously. When he still did not speak, she said, “Thank you so much for gettin’ me the job. I do like workin’ for Lady Allister, an’ I been tryin’ real hard.”
He halted and gave her a long look. “What is this I hear about you and Farrow?”
It took Violette a moment to comprehend him. “Me an’ Lord Farrow?” It quickly crossed her mind that either the countess or Catherine had had a recent discussion with Blake.
“Yes, you and Farrow. He was here today? He asked you to drive in the park on Sunday?”
Violette had stiffened. Her chin tilted upwards. “Yes, he was here. But that wasn’t my fault. He came to shop.”
Blake snorted. “He propositioned you.”
“I said no,” Violette snapped. “Not that it’s yer affair!”
“So you do have common sense?” His tone was like a lash. “Farrow is a rogue. When it comes to women, he has no morals, none. I hope you did not encourage him to return.”
Her pulse pounded with anger. “An’ if I did? Mebbe I like him. Mebbe ’e likes me!”
Blake laughed harshly. “So that is the lay of the land?”
“I beg yer pardon?”
“Do you like him enough to become his mistress, Violette?” Blake asked cruelly.
Violette’s shoulders jerked back with a snap. “’Ow could yew!” she cried.
Blake took a breath. “I know the man,” Blake said, his eyes flashing. “He wishes to amuse himself at your expense. He
does not intend marriage, not to you, not to any woman. His reputation as a ladies’ man is legion, Violette.”
does not intend marriage, not to you, not to any woman. His reputation as a ladies’ man is legion, Violette.”
Violette hugged herself. “Like yers?”
Blake stared angrily. His dark brows slashed together. “I suppose that I do have a small reputation in that regard. But my reputation is minor compared to Farrow’s.”
Violette was hurt by his admission. “Wot do you care if I take up with the likes of Farrow?”
Blake was rigid. “So you will accept his invitation?”
“I don’t know,” Violette cried. She turned her back on him abruptly and stared unseeingly across the street. She felt like crying. This was not the kind of visit she had anticipated.
He touched her shoulder briefly from behind. “Violette,” he said softly.
She had to face him. His soft tone had washed over her like a warm, warm wave.
For a long moment he did not speak. And when he did, the anger had left his tone. “Oddly enough, I do care. That is why I am concerned, that is why I am here.”
Violette could hardly believe her ears. “You care? About me?”
“I do not want to see you hurt by anyone,” he said harshly.
She wanted to fling herself against him. She smiled. “Blake, I care, too. Fer you. If only you—”
“Stop,” he cut her off. “Do not make more out of this than what exists. We are friends. That is all.”
“Friends,” Violette echoed, “you mean, like me an’ Ralph?” She covered her heart with her hand. It was hurting her all over again.
“No.” His jaw flexed. “I mean friends, as in I have helped you to gain employment, helped you to get back on your feet. Nothing more.”
She backed away from him. “I don’t know why yew came ’ere today,” she cried.
“Violette,” Blake said. “I came to warn you away from Farrow. You are too innocent to understand him and his kind. I am sorry.” He reached out his hand toward her, as if to pluck her sleeve, or touch her.
She swatted it away. “Don’t yew go feelin’ sorry fer me! Because mebbe, just mebbe, yew are wrong. Mebbe Farrow ’as a bigger mind, an’ a bigger heart, than yew, me lord! Mebbe one day ’e might like me enough to make me ’is wife!”
Blake stared. He did not speak for a long time. While Violette fought the urge to shed hot, bitter tears.
“He will not,” Blake said quietly. “He cannot. Your stations in life are far too different. It is not done.”
“Go away,” Violette managed, meaning it. “Go find someone else to be friends with.
Leave me alone
!”
Leave me alone
!”
“Even if he loved you,” Blake said as quietly, “he would not marry you. I am sorry, Violette.”
Violette backed away. His brutal words were stabbing painfully through her chest. “Go away,” she whispered thickly.
“I am sorry, Violette,” Blake repeated heavily. “But I am a realist. Let me drive you home.”
“A realist,” Violette said bitterly. “Yew know wot, me lord? I feel sorry fer yew!” She turned, reaching blindly for the door. But his palm came down flat and hard on the frame, holding it closed.
“What the blazes do you mean by that?” he demanded from behind her.
She half-turned. Violette stood so close to him now that her skirts enveloped his legs, and she thought that he could surely see the glitter of hot tears in her eyes. “I mean yew think the world is all dark, dirt, and smoke, don’t yew? An’ I’m the one born in St. Giles! But the sun shines, Blake, it does—every single day.” She tried desperately not to cry.
“Of course the sun shines,” he said, his gaze on hers. “But it shines on dirt and through smoke, and even beautiful roses have thorns.”
She wanted to hit him, her fists were clenched into tight, hard, hurtful little balls. “An’ wot about rainbows?” she cried. “Wot about pots o’ gold?”
He blinked. “Rainbows?” he asked, as if he did not understand her English. And then he shook his head. “Violette, rainbows are not only an illusion, they are fleeting. And there are no pots of gold at the end of any rainbow.”
Violette finally wiped her eyes. “Rainbows are real and they are also magic,” she said. “I believe in ’em, I do, and I believe that one day I can find me one that will last
forever
.” She stared defiantly.
forever
.” She stared defiantly.
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