Wilful Wallflowers Collection: Books 1 - 3 by Claudia Stone

Author:Claudia Stone [Stone, Claudia]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Published: 2020-11-08T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Seven

Violet stood silently in the hallway for a moment after closing the door on Orsino. She listened as his footsteps clattered down the steps, and waited until she heard his carriage pull away before she let out a groan of frustration.

Drat that man, she thought, as she stalked down the hallway back toward the library, where a fire still danced in the grate. Drat him, drat his soulful green eyes, and drat his romantic nature.

Far from being the rake Violet had presumed him to be, Orsino had unveiled himself to be the noblest of gentlemen. Violet's cheeks flushed a little, as she recalled their conversation, and said a silent prayer of thanks that Orsino would never know it was she whom he had confessed to.

Except he would, Violet paused, if he continued on his determined quest for Violet's hand.

"Drat," Violet whispered again, reaching for the bottle of elderflower wine upon the table. She did not usually imbibe alcohol, but given her current predicament, she could not help but fill another glass for herself.

Violet plonked herself back down at the desk, silently mulling over the night's events.

It was clear, now, that Orsino had called on a false pretext. The letter she had transcribed into English had mentioned places in France where--even Violet knew--fighting had long since ceased. Her suspicions that Orsino had merely brought the letter as a ruse to gain an audience with "Sebastian", were then confirmed when the ruddy-great man had sought to leave without it.

Thanks from the Crown indeed, Violet thought irritably, as she sipped upon her cordial-like drink.

She was in trouble for two reasons, Violet thought, with a jolt of shock. The first was that Orsino seemed determined to have her, and the second--and more frightening--was that Violet herself wanted Orsino to get his way.

It was not just the duke's handsomeness which appealed to Violet, but his goodness. Despite his large, brutish form, Orsino was gentle as a kitten--it was irritably appealing.

Not only that, but when he had spoken of siring children, Violet had been overcome with a vision of the huge, bulky man cradling a small babe, and found that she had wanted to weep with longing.

What would it be like, she wondered, to allow Orsino into her life? She would be protected, there was no doubt about that, but she would also be cherished. Cosseted from any hardship by a wealthy duke with a physique so perfect that it might have been sculpted by one of the masters.

"Stop that," Violet hissed to herself, pushing away her now empty glass. She could not afford to dwell on the duke's attributes or allow herself to dwell on what her life with him might be like, for there was no future for them. There was no "them". They were two singular beings, one of whom was a peer of the realm, the other of whom was...a liar.

Violet hung her head in shame, as she recalled Orsino's cracking voice, as he had determinedly declared that he would never sire a child he could not raise and love.

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