Attached was a similarly white-washed stone cottage, larger than he’d anticipated, which could house a family of ten. For some reason, he had believed the homes attached to lighthouses weren’t so large as he had also assumed there would be only one resident.

  After pulling the curricle to a stop before the walk that led to the entry, Emory jumped from the curricle and hurried around to help Lady Violet to the ground, but she’d already stepped out. Was she not used to a gentleman offering assistance? This was nearly as odd as her unloading the curricle earlier. He found it surprising that nobody had ever impressed upon Lady Violet that there were certain things that ladies did not do.

  She was the daughter of a duke, and had brothers, had none of them explained?

  Before they reached the door to call on the lighthouse keeper, a gentleman in his late thirties emerged, staring hard at Emory. He was rather taken aback by not only the distrust in the man’s eyes, but his age since Emory had always imagined old men, hardened sailors with long scraggly white beards inhabited lighthouses. Why he’d made such an assumption, he did not know, unless it came about from reading adventure stories in his youth.

  As the man’s gaze shifted to Emory’s companion, his expression softened.

  “Lady Violet is something amiss?” The man glanced back to Emory and the distrust once again filled his eyes.

  Lady Violet quickly explained the reason for their visit, after introducing Emory and noting his relationship to Dr. Talbot. “If it is not too much of an inconvenience, Mr. Hutchinson, I had hoped to borrow your wagon to help expediate our retrieval and delivery of the items from the various households.

  “Of course,” he quickly answered. “I’ll have the horses hitched to the wagon right away.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Hutchinson, and I promise to have them returned as quickly as possible.”

  “There is no need to hurry, Lady Violet. They will not be needed until the fifth for deliveries to be made early on the sixth.” He held her eyes for a moment longer than necessary, as if relaying a separate message.

  “The fifth,” Lady Violet answered as if she was noting something other than the use of the wagon and horses. “I’m certain I will not need them for so long.”

  She then turned to Emory. “Thank you for driving me, Lord Ferrard.”

  “It was my pleasure.”

  “As I’ve already prevailed enough upon your time, there is no need to remain.”

  At her words, he was momentarily taken aback. “You mean to drive through the country and to those households in town, filling a wagon with belongings to be delivered, all on your own?”

  Lady Violet stared blankly up at him. “Why yes. I need no assistance.”

  “I must disagree,” he insisted. “You should not be seeing to the task, let alone on your own.”

  “I’m quite capable, Lord Ferrard.”

  Emory was beginning to believe that Lady Violet could do anything she put her mind to, if determined enough. “Anything could happen if you are left unprotected.”

  She sighed. “I can assure you that I need no protection. I’ve lived in Laswell my entire life.”

  “And strangers never visit?” he countered. Lady Violet was quite naïve, which must come from being sheltered her entire life. “I will be driving you, and assisting with your deliveries, then we’ll return the wagon and retrieve my brother’s curricle, and I will drive you back to Laswell.”

  “Really, Lord Ferrard—”

  “—Lady Violet, a moment please.”

  Chapter 5

  Of all the ridiculous…She did not need Lord Ferrard’s assistance. In fact, she’d prefer not to have it, as Violet wished for time alone. During their drive, she once again suffered an unusual warmth, quiver in her belly, and moments of tightening in her chest, nearly making her breathless when his sapphire eyes stared into hers. She was unused to such a physical reaction to a gentleman, and as nothing would come from her attraction, Violet would not allow herself to succumb to a rake. Therefore, she wished to have peace for the reminder of the day and contemplate how she might gain control over her unwanted reactions.

  “Lady Violet?”

  She turned to the lighthouse keeper. “Yes, Mr. Hutchinson?”

  “Please come inside. I’ve something for you.”

  She’d explained to Lord Ferrard why he wasn’t needed upon her return. “Please excuse me.”

  As soon as she was inside of the lighthouse, Mr. Hutchinson asked his oldest son to see about preparing the wagon, then directed her to the kitchen where a batch of biscuits set cooling on the table. She’d been in this home many times in the past, beginning when she was just a young girl when Father would ask her to deliver messages. She suspected that it was because Father wished to give her something to occupy her time, as in most instances a footman would have been tasked with delivery. Father thought her far too inquisitive and too often underfoot with making inquiries about things she did not understand, and it was at these times that he’d ask her to make the trek from Forester Hall to the lighthouse and back in hopes that she’d become settled enough to be content to play on the nursery floor. Violet was never content to sit and play when there was so much to discover. The most glorious day in Violet’s young life was when Miss Littleton arrived at Forester Hall to be her governess and a world of knowledge was opened to Violet. However, prior to that arrival, Violet had walked many times to the lighthouse and had been in the Hutchinson kitchen on several occasions. It was as warm and comforting as her own home.

  Violet turned to the window looking out to the Bristol Channel. The three younger Hutchinson children played as Mrs. Hutchinson watched on and the older Mr. Hutchinson rocked in a chair beneath an old oak, sheltered from the sun.

  “What did you wish to give me?”

  Mr. Hutchinson began putting the biscuits in a small basket.

  “That is not necessary, Mr. Hutchinson.”

  “These are so you have something to carry out of here, and not the real reason I wished to speak with you alone.”

  He was practicing a deception, though Violet couldn’t understand the reason.

  “I, and half of Laswell, know that you are fully capable of driving the wagon anywhere you wish, and loading and unloading trunks and such.”

  “Which is why it is perfectly reasonable that I retrieve the servants’ belongings.”

  “Lord Ferrard is a viscount and not from around here. He has certain expectations of the capabilities of a lady.”

  “I’m well aware.” Violet was reminded that many gentlemen viewed ladies as helpless, which was quite aggravating.

  “I don’t want him questioning why you are so capable. Are you prepared to tell him what you sometimes do under the cloak of darkness that makes it possible for you to go about as you planned today?”

  Violet frowned since she hadn’t considered such.

  “Though I must agree, however, that you should not travel without escort.”

  To which Violet frowned.

  “He is an intelligent gentleman, and if you appear too self-sufficient, or lift something he’s already convinced himself is impossible for a mere lady, he might start questioning why.”

  Violet truly didn’t understand why Ferrard would question anything, as he barely knew her.

  Mr. Hutchinson handed her the basket. “You will allow him to drive you, and you will not lift anything heavier than what a lady of London would be expected to lift and seek assistance even if it is not needed.”

  She’d never been given orders by Mr. Hutchinson before. Well, not since she was much younger. “I am to deceive him.”

  “Not necessarily deceive. Simply hide your true capabilities.”

  It was sometimes safer to let others assume, even when said assumptions were incorrect. While it was nearly dishonest, it wasn’t exactly a lie. Further, it was a subterfuge many of the residents in Laswell practiced, her family included.

  He smiled at her. “I’ve known you since you were a wee one, Lady Violet, and I know that duplicity doesn’t come easy to you. You also approach problems in the most efficient manner without consideration of how others might view your activities or behavior. We know your independent nature, resourcefulness, and lack of patience in many regards, whereas Lord Ferrard does not. Therefore, in this instance, you need to be careful…for all of us.”

  She couldn’t be the cause of the unraveling of secrets held for generations. “Yes, of course,” she said again. “I’ll do my best to be a proper, dainty, lady, Mr. Hutchinson.”

  He laughed, though she wasn’t trying to be humorous. She was rarely humorous. Or, rarely attempted to be humorous.

  Taking the basket, she followed Mr. Hutchinson out to the wagon where Lord Ferrard waited to help her onto the seat.

  “Lady Violet is happy for your assistance,” Mr. Hutchinson stated. “Sometimes she gets an idea in her head and goes about doing it, until she finds she can’t.” The lighthouse keeper chuckled. “Stubborn, she is.”

  Violet gasped. She was not stubborn! However, she held her tongue. Instead, she’d carry on as she was forced to do while in London and under the watchful eye of her grandmother.

  “I’ll see to your curricle and bays until you return,” Mr. Hutchinson called as Lord Ferrard set the horses in motion.

  After Lord Ferrard drove the wagon onto the road, she gave direction to the first estate they needed to visit while worry gnawed at her belly for fear that she might have revealed something that she shouldn’t, and it tangled with the odd sensations she developed when in Lord Ferrard’s presence. Neither were comfortable.

  “Are the residents always so familiar?” he asked.

  Violet wasn’t certain how to take his comment. “How so?”

  “The owner of a lighthouse addressed you with familiarity and called the daughter of a duke stubborn.” Was he affronted on her behalf?

  Yes, she supposed others might find Mr. Hutchinson rather disrespectful to her rank. “He has known me since I was on leading strings. We are a close community where rank means little, unlike in London.” Further, rank disappeared when one was working side by side while unloading smuggled cargo. However, that was information she must keep from Lord Ferrard and the very reason she must behave as her grandmother had instructed while in Lord Ferrard’s presence.

  As Lord Ferrard said nothing further, and given the earlier conversations and Mr. Hutchinson’s instructions, Violet decided that perhaps she should address what she assumed he may be thinking, especially since he would be courting her for the next nine days. Further, she was still concerned that he may question some of her earlier behavior, which would never do.

  “I’m certain you think me odd, which I cannot argue with, as it is simply an opinion based on the values you’ve learned and Society has placed on others.”

  Lord Ferrand blinked at her.

  “Others have considered me conceited, cold in personality, or overly shy, and all these opinions are based on their observances of me and my behavior in Society, which is often in contrast to what others have deemed to be the normal behavior of most ladies. Now, you’ve witnessed that I had intended to drive a wagon and retrieve satchels and trunks on my own.”

  She was aware of the opinions of others. Some she’d accidentally overheard, and others had said so directly to her. However, she tried not to let their opinions cause her pain, as they did not know her well enough to judge, nor did they bother to come to know her, so the failing was on them and not her. Further, Violet had no desire to befriend anyone who judged so quickly without proper investigation of a rumor. Or, more simply put, didn’t bother to come to know her first before forming their own conclusion.

  “I am certain that you are none of those things,” Lord Ferrard insisted.

  “You are being polite.” It was impossible that he saw her differently than anyone else. If so, then he would be the first of the gentlemen that she’d met previously.

  The thought gave her pause. If Violet assumed as such of Lord Ferrard, then she was no better than the gentlemen who judged her without bothering to gain so much as an introduction, which was unfair to both herself and Lord Ferrard.

  “I’ll be honest,” he finally said. “I do find you different from anyone else of my acquaintance.”

  At least he was honest with her, and Violet far preferred being called different than odd.

  “However, don’t mistake my thinking you as such in a negative manner. I prefer to be around someone who is unique as opposed to someone who is no different than any other lady I might encounter in London.”

  The odd sensation in her belly flipped, sending warmth into her chest and a lightness within her being. Unique was far better than odd or even different.

  He glanced at the list she held in her hand. “I assume the Harleys are aware of your intentions today and won’t be alarmed if you do not return before it begins to grow dark.”

  Violet glanced up at Lord Ferrard from beneath the shadow of her bonnet and considered how much she could trust him.

  He already had certain expectations, based solely on her rank and gender. Therefore, she could allow him to return her to the Harleys and she’d simply walk to the inn, but it was likely he’d want to see her delivered directly to the door, which would never do. However, she couldn’t risk the Harleys knowing that she’d not returned to Forester Hall, at least not yet, because it was likely Mrs. Harley would inform her father, who would insist that she return home.

  “I’ve my own confession, Lord Ferrard,” she finally said, and hoped that he’d keep her confidence. “I am no longer staying with the Harleys.”

  He frowned. “Why is that?”

  She quickly explained being asked to leave, and the reasons. “I’ve no desire to return to Forester Hall until the afternoon of January sixth and have taken a room at the inn where my maid and the other servants from Forester Hall are waiting to see if they become ill.”

  “Why don’t you wish to return home?”

  She blew out a laden breath. “I feared that if I returned, Father would decide to match me to one of the invited bachelors, and that will never do.”

  “Yet, you and I have agreed to a courtship. You could safely return now,” he offered.

  She had considered the possibility for the briefest moment before it was dismissed entirely. “Then we’d be forced to endure their interference when we both know that this courtship is temporary. If I return and you are required to call on me there, my family will expect a betrothal, or worse, my grandmother may deem it necessary to provide advice, and I would rather go on as we’ve planned.” Besides, her grandmother was far too perceptive and seemed to know information that she shouldn’t be privy to. Of course, she claims that Jonathan tells her everything that happens at Forester Hall and in Laswell, which is quite ridiculous since Jonathan, grandmother’s first love, had been dead nearly fifty years.

  Violet smoothed her pelisse over her thighs. “If Lucinda can wait to wed until she is two and twenty, then I can as well as I intend to live my life as fully as possible in the interim. However, if forced to court with my family present, they will give me no peace.”

  Chapter 6

  Emory knew that the very suggestion of how they were to go about their courtship was highly improper, as they would lack the one thing required for an innocent lady—a chaperone. Yet, he could not find it within himself to insist that Lady Violet return to her home.

  Oddly, it wasn’t until they’d spent the afternoon driving through the country that he’d realized how stifling Society was in how gentlemen and ladies went about. The rules were necessary, of course, as an innocent’s reputation should never be called into question. Were those rules as important in the Village of Laswell as they were in London during the Season?

  Inwardly he answered yes, they were, but Emory chose to ignore that voice and reasoned that he was an honorable gentleman, so Lady Violet had no concern that he’d behave in an inappropriate manner.

  Bloody hell, he could argue with himself from now until the courtship came to an end, but Emory knew that courting Lady Violet without supervision of a chaperone was simply wrong. Yet, he would continue to do so anyway. Further, it was something he looked forward to and may explain why he woke in an excellent mood. Duties and concern didn’t weigh so heavily on him today. They lingered, as he couldn’t completely let go of them since his future was also in the balance. But something had changed, and he was certain that it was on account of making Lady Violet’s acquaintance.

  He and Lady Violet had spoken on many subjects the day before, though not in depth, simply observations, but it was more conversation than he’d ever had with any woman outside of his family.

  Yes, Lady Violet was odd, different, and unique, but that was what he really liked about her, and he couldn’t help but laugh at all the nonsense he’d heard. Lady Violet was anything but shy, nor was she conceited, and he’d be willing to wager that she might be one of the most intelligent women he’d ever met, perhaps more intelligent than most gentlemen who’d had the advantage of a formal education. Nor was she boring. Further, and perhaps the most important was that her forthrightness and honesty had allowed Emory to relax for the first time since… he couldn’t even remember the last time he hadn’t watched his behavior, what he said, or was mindful of each expression. In London he was judged, as everyone was judged, and that knowledge was never far from his mind. However, there was no artifice to Lady Violet, and he let go of his control of being seen only as one should be viewed.

  It was bloody refreshing to finally look forward to spending time with a lady.

  “What has put you in a fine mood?” Liam asked from his seat at the dining room table. “And where did you disappear to yesterday? If your belongings hadn’t still been in your chamber, I would have thought you’d returned to Hawthorn Park to avoid courtship with a lady you’d never met.”