“Yes.”

  “Would I lie about something of such importance to you?”

  Again, she studied, searching his eyes until she finally answered. “No.”

  “Then it shall be yours. You can design it yourself, and the gardens if you wish. I would have you happy, Violet.”

  “And I’d have you happy as well,” she murmured.

  “My happiness is you by my side, as my friend, as my lover, and as my wife.”

  She smiled. “I believe that would make me happy as well.”

  Emory couldn’t wait to wed. There would be no crying of the banns, or a long wait, and as soon as he had the opportunity, he would obtain a Special License, as he didn’t want to wait any longer than necessary to make Violet his.

  “We can return to kissing now.”

  “I’d like that very much.” Emory chuckled and lowered his mouth to hers, only to be stopped by someone clearing their throat.

  He glanced up to find Epworth standing at the entry.

  “Violet, Grandmother requests your presence,” her brother announced then cast Emory a cool gaze. “I’ve sent word to my father to expect you momentarily.”

  Emory knew that he must speak with His Grace, however, that didn’t mean he was prepared to do so.

  “Shall we?” Violet asked.

  “Yes.” He blew out a breath and prepared for the meeting to come.

  Violet wanted to skip all the way to the manor house, and she never skipped. Nor had she ever felt so light, as if all burdens had been lifted from her being. She was simply happy, though Emory had grown tense. Did he regret his impulsive declaration?

  “Is all well?”

  “What is your father like?”

  “You’ve not met him before?”

  “Yes, I have. However, his disposition might change when one is discussing his daughter’s hand in marriage.”

  “Father wants nothing more than for his daughters to wed, so it is likely he will be grateful.”

  The butler and housekeeper were waiting just inside the entry when Violet and Emory arrived. She was directed to her grandmother’s favorite sitting room, and Emory was escorted to her father’s library. Poor Emory, he carried himself as if he were walking toward the gallows.

  However, Violet had reason to believe that his request would be granted and made her way to where Grandmother was taking tea with Lucinda.

  “Did you settle on a husband, Lucinda? Or did you manage to send them all away.” It had been Lucinda’s intention to do just that, and Violet would be forever grateful that she’d chosen Emory to leave first.

  “I did not choose any of the lords father invited,” her sister answered.

  “Then you managed to remain free.” She was happy for Lucinda because while Violet had once believed marriage would be dreadful, she had now amended her assumption to be that marriage would be dreadful without love, especially if it were to a gentleman who only sought power, funds, and control.

  “I did choose someone.”

  Violet settled onto the settee and reached for the pot of tea. “It cannot be both. Either you chose a lord, or you didn’t.”

  “She chose Mr. Caleb Copeland, an American from Louisiana,” Grandmother answered. “He escorted his great aunts to the house party.”

  It was then that she remembered that he’d been the one to plant Eardly a facer. Already Violet liked him, and she’d not even met him yet.

  “He is who I had truly chosen for Lucinda,” her grandmother announced.

  “The house party was your idea?” Lucinda asked.

  “Yes, with your father’s permission, of course.”

  Lucinda narrowed her eyes. “Who was responsible for the guest list? You or father?”

  “That was me as well dear.”

  Their grandmother was without shame.

  “Why not simply invite him, alone, instead of making me endure the presence of those lords?”

  “Because if it were only Mr. Copeland, and if you knew what I was about, you would have hidden from him. Instead, I gave you ten reasons to hide, which put you where you belonged and with Mr. Copeland. I do believe it all worked out perfectly.”

  Violet would need to remember that Grandmother was not to be underestimated. However, it made little difference, as she’d not need to fear grandmother making a match for her.

  “Did I hear that Lord Ferrard is meeting with my son?”

  “Yes, he is,” Violet acknowledged. “However, unlike Lucinda, I’m certain you could not have foreseen that Lord Ferrard would ask for my hand after my sister rejected him.”

  “There, you are wrong. You are the reason he was invited.”

  “That’s impossible. You could not have predicted what would become of me and Lord Ferrard after he left Forester Hall. Besides, if he was intended for me, you’d not have allowed me to leave.”

  It wasn’t possible that her grandmother knew what would happen, no matter how much she insisted.

  “Oh, Violet, you so underestimate me. Lord Ferrard watched you, often, in London, and I feared he’d not gain an introduction because he was too much of a gentleman and too cautious to follow you into a garden where you were alone. I knew that you’d flee to Silvia’s as soon as the house party was announced. Lord Ferrard’s brother is the local physician. I simply needed to get Lord Ferrard to Forester Hall. I then suggested that Lucinda interview him that first morning and knew that she’d send him on his way. He’d visit with his brother, and there was a chance of meeting with you, though it would have been arranged if necessary, but I assumed you’d be in his path because Silvia would use any excuse possible to be near Dr. Talbot.”

  Violet gaped at her. “What if we hadn’t met? What if I would have returned home because of the measles and Lord Ferrard would have already left?”

  “I knew you wouldn’t have.”

  “Did you know that he was telling a falsehood about wishing to meet me when he gave the excuse of why he and Lucinda wouldn’t suit.” She glanced to her sister. “He didn’t wish to hurt your feelings with rejection.”

  Lucinda snorted then laughed.

  “He’d not have said it if it hadn’t already been a thought, even if he wasn’t aware,” her grandmother insisted. “Remember, I noted how often he watched you in London, though I’m not certain he is even aware that he did so.”

  “He wished to spare Lucinda,” Violet argued because that was what Emory had told her.

  “I believe that was what he thought at the time, but if a part of him wasn’t intrigued, he would have never named you.”

  “She is correct.”

  Violet turned to find Emory standing at the entry to the sitting room.

  “You’ve intrigued me for two years. Otherwise, I would have found another excuse to be gone from this place.” He came forward and took her hand in his. “I might not have ever approached you had I not been manipulated by Her Grace.”

  Her grandmother harrumphed.

  “You did manipulate, Grandmother,” Lucinda reminded her.

  Oh, she hated that her grandmother had managed to manipulate not only Lucinda but herself. Though, Violet couldn’t be angry because she and Emory were to marry. “I should warn Honora.” Their younger sister would attend her first Season this spring.

  “Honora will do fine without my assistance,” Grandmother insisted.

  “At least our brothers were free of your interference,” Violet grumbled.

  At that, grandmother laughed. “You have so little faith. Who do you think brought Wesley and Miranda together, dear?”

  Grandmother had been present in Hollybrook Park when she accompanied Wesley to discuss the wrecking of a Bocka Morrow ship on the shores of Laswell.

  “I’ll make certain to warn my siblings of your underhandedness,” Violet teased, not really angry with her grandmother.

  “Warn them all that you’d like, but I fear they will be on their own to find a perfect match.”

  Alarm rushed through Violet. “Are you well, Grandmother?”

  She smiled. “I am simply tired and cannot go about as I once did, but I am happy that the two of you are to marry fine gentlemen.” She stood, leaning heavily on her cane, more so than usual. “I am going to retire to the dower house and hold my great grandson, then, I will finally rest.”

  Finally rest? Had grandmother not been sleeping well.

  “All is as it should be. All that I’ve waited for has come to be. Be well and know that I love you.” She paused and turned back to them. “No matter what may occur, you must promise that you shall marry in haste.”

  “We are barely betrothed,” Lucinda argued.

  Grandmother snorted. “Your husbands don’t wish to wait, and I’m certain neither do you, so do not pretend you aren’t eager. Therefore, as soon as the Special Licenses arrive, you will wed immediately.”

  “Are you worried something might happen to prevent our marriages?” Violet asked.

  “We have no control of our future,” Grandmother reminded them. “Remember, I was to marry my love, but we waited for the banns, and because of our delay, we never had our wedding day.”

  Captain Jonathan Vail had perished with his ship when it crashed upon the rocks during a storm. He’d been sailing to Laswell to marry Grandmother.

  “Marry at your first opportunity, and do not let any circumstance deter you,” she ordered.

  “Yes, Grandmother,” Violet and Lucinda answered in unison.

  With a nod, her grandmother turned and quit the room, her back more hunched than usual. As she gained the corridor, the butler appeared and offered his arm before he escorted her from the house.

  Violet looked to Lucinda. “She’s behaving in a strange manner.”

  “She seemed to tire as soon as word of the birth arrived,” Lucinda offered. “I’m certain it is because she had to play chaperone to a house party and a number of bachelors. After she’s had a night’s sleep in her own bed, Grandmother will be herself once again.

  Lucinda was likely correct, and Violet put her concern aside and turned to Emory. “Can I assume that my father gave his blessing?”

  “He did.”

  She hadn’t thought she’d been worried of her father’s response, but realized she was relieved to hear that it had gone well.

  “Would you care for a stroll in the gardens?” he asked.

  “I would like that very much.” Violet came to her feet and allowed Emory to escort her outside. However, as soon as they reached the shelter of tall hedges, he stopped and drew her close.

  “I’ve always believed that I’d know my wife in the span of a few conversations. However, I didn’t account for not recognizing her when I was not concentrating on looking for a wife. I do believe, however, that my heart already recognized you that first day after we’d spent the better part of the afternoon driving around the country collecting clothing for the servants.”

  Violet recalled their first meeting, of looking into his eyes, the timbre of his voice, and the warmth to her body and queer sensation in her stomach. “Mine did as well.”

  “I will give you a conservatory. I will allow spiders, bees, and all manner of insect. However, there is one thing that I will not tolerate.”

  Her heart stilled for a moment and Violet grew cold. She’d told him that she feared losing freedom, but what did he wish to take from her. “What?”

  “A long betrothal. We will be married by Special License, or this time it will be me hauling you off to Gretna Green.”

  “If that is what you wish.”

  “It is.”

  “As it is my duty to obey, I bow to your wisdom,” she offered in seriousness, though not truly meaning the words.

  “Somehow I doubt that you will ever obey or bow to my wisdom, Violet.” Emory chuckled. “Nor would I ever want you to.”

  Instead of responding, she linked her hands behind his head and drew him forward until their lips met. The heat that pooled at her center and the tightening of her breasts were what she’d come to expect and anticipate. She embraced the newly discovered desire that burned within and couldn’t wait until they were married so that she could discover all the delicious secrets of passion.

  Epilogue

  Last Season, I had ended my observations with my curiosity about Lord Ferrard and Lady Violet Claxton. I had thought to observe them more this Season. However, neither will be in attendance this year. If they were, it is likely they’d be in the gardens together, as the two married in January, much to my surprise. I would have never imagined that they’d make a match. I am told, by those who are acquainted with the couple, that it is a love match. That was also my opinion when I had the opportunity to observe them at the funeral and gathering of family and close friends, in which my family is included, at Forester Hall.

  Her Grace passed away in the early morning hours of January seventh in the year of our Lord eighteen hundred and seventeen. Sadder still, she passed in her sleep the night after her first great-grandchild had come into the world. Perhaps she was simply waiting until the heir arrived before she was willing to leave this world.

  Lady Lucinda Claxton also married, and to an American no less, but it is also deemed a love match, and I must concur after thoughtful observation.

  Though the granddaughters were in mourning, they married privately, as this was the wish of Her Grace. She’d not only insisted on the day they’d become betrothed that the two were to marry quickly, but had also written instructions that if something were to happen to her before either of them wed, that they were not, under any certain terms, to put off their vows.

  I’ve been assured that there was absolutely no cause to rush either wedding. However, that doesn’t mean that I will not take note on the dates of their marriages to compare to the dates of the arrival of any children. Lord Ferrard is, after all, a rake, and it’s unlikely he was reformed before he relinquished his bachelor state.

  With this last entry, this journal is complete. However, another journal awaits for when I next attend a Season and take note of those who intrigue me most so that I might record the observations of this wallflower.

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