Perhaps she should try and reason with Sundridge.
“My lord,” she said, interrupting whatever he’d been saying.
Sundridge blinked at her. “Don’t care for cricket, do you?”
Was that the topic on which he’d been rambling? “Our dance will end soon, and I wished to ask a question before we part.”
“Oh. Has this to do with cricket?”
“No, actually.” God help her. “It has to do with us. Are you . . . that is, our fathers . . .”
“Yes?” He had the nerve to sound impatient.
“Are you considering marriage? To me, I mean?” Two months ago, this conversation would have mortified her. Now, too much hung in the balance not to address it.
“I . . . yes. I thought my intent was quite clear.”
“Why?”
“Why is it clear?”
“No, why me?”
He cleared his throat. “Well, why not?”
Hardly a statement of ever-loving devotion. “I cannot see that we have anything in common.”
“You shall come to like cricket, Lady Violet, I swear.”
“It’s more than that. We hardly know one another.” She lowered her voice. “Wouldn’t you rather marry a girl with whom you are somewhat familiar?”
He gave her a look that suggested she belonged in an insane asylum. “You seem like a nice, quiet girl, docile. I think we’ll get on just fine.”
He made her sound like a cow. Her back straightened, anger burning her throat. “I am hardly quiet. I have opinions and thoughts of my own, which I cannot verbalize because you never cease talking!”
Heads around them swiveled. The other dancers looked shocked at the outburst, and she pressed her lips together, chagrined . . . but not apologetic.
Indeed, this was not the time or place for such a conversation, though she did intend to dissuade him from offering for her. Soon.
“Excuse me, my lord.” Offering a quick curtsy, she dashed off the dance floor and headed toward the terrace doors. She kept her head down and hoped Max wouldn’t see her. She needed solitude at the moment, not Max’s insistence that all marriages were miserable or—God forbid—another offer to help find her a husband. How would she survive it if the only man she’d ever wanted arranged to wed her off to someone else?
Violet would rather die.
And what happened if she could not get out of a marriage to Sundridge?
A light mist fell onto the empty terrace, the dreary type of precipitation London served in a never-ending supply. Violet didn’t mind the water. It felt cool on her overheated skin, a balm for the rawness in her chest. Was this her destiny? To marry a man she didn’t want and relive memories of Max for the rest of her life?
She tilted her face to the sky and let the rain mix with the tears building on her lashes.
What am I to do with you, my sweet girl?
His words haunted her, even hours later. Love me, she’d wanted to tell him. Never let me go. But she knew what he would have said in response . . . and it would have broken her heart.
Can I do this?
Could she love a man who would never claim her publicly? Who would rather keep her hidden away in the darkness? Violet had once thought it wouldn’t bother her, that she would do anything the Duke of Ravensthorpe asked.
But it hurt. Far more than she’d ever expected. She didn’t want to hide or pretend. She longed to be at his side, in the daylight. Bear his children. Be his wife.
That would never happen. He’d made it painfully clear from the start.
A sound near the door had her wiping her face. Was it Max? She didn’t wish for him to find her crying out here.
“Lady Violet?”
Sundridge. Her shoulders sank.
Turning, she folded her arms and inclined her head. “My lord.”
After casting an unhappy glance at the sky, he drew closer, stopping just within reach. His dark blond hair immediately lost its artful tousling thanks to the water droplets. “I sensed you were upset on the dance floor and I wanted to check on your welfare. And apologize, of course, for whatever I might have said to aid in your distress.”
Perhaps Sundridge wasn’t so bad after all. “Thank you. I shouldn’t have raised the topic of marriage in such a public place, I suppose.”
“I had assumed . . . Well, I assumed when I kept asking you to dance that you realized I was serious about courting you.”
“Why me?”
“As I said, I’ve found nothing objectionable about you. I think we shall get on quite well together.”
“Is it the dowry?” Violet was aware that her status as an heiress would entice nearly any man. Save Max, of course.
“We do need it,” he said. “I cannot pretend otherwise. That is not my only reason for choosing you, however.”
Do I not get a choice, as well? She wished to shout the question into the cool night air, but what good would it serve? The answer was obvious, and everyone knew it. Still, she had to try. “What if I told you my heart was promised to another?”
Sundridge lifted a bony shoulder. “I think we should focus on friendship and compatibility. A marriage is a partnership, sort of like a cricket team. You see—”
“What about happiness?”
“If you are asking if I’ll tolerate pursuits outside of our marriage, I won’t object. We’ll need children, of course, but that’s no hardship.”
Violet wilted, unable to countenance what was happening. Her life was spinning out of control, her future full of nothing but misery and compromise.
Sundridge gripped her arm and moved closer. “May I call you Violet?” Without awaiting an answer, he said, “Violet, I realize how young girls romanticize these things, but this is a time for strategy. Like in cricket, you might give up something now to gain a run or two later.”
What in God’s name was he talking about? She tried to pull free, to no avail. “You aren’t listening to me—”
A voice cracked through the night like the lash from a whip. “Release her.”
The Duke of Ravensthorpe emerged from the gloom, looking like an avenging angel ready to lay waste to everything in his path. Violet’s heart clenched as he stalked forward, his eyes burning into the younger man at her side. “I said to release her, Sundridge. Now.”
Sundridge held up his hands. “I—I didn’t hurt her, I swear.”
Max glanced at Violet. “Are you hurt, Lady Violet?”
“No, Your Grace.” She didn’t know what do. Why was Max here? Had he been worried about her? She bit her lip and tried to contain the urge to throw herself into his arms.
You’re a secret. You’ll always be just a secret.
Max rounded on the younger man. “You are lucky no one else caught you out here. Were you trying to ruin her reputation? I hadn’t thought you such a bounder, Sundridge.”
“I came to converse with her. That’s all.” Sundridge sidled away from Max, his skin going pale. “I never meant any disrespect.”
Max advanced, his hands curling into fists. “I saw her try to pull away when you grabbed her. Are you telling me I am wrong?”
Sundridge’s back met the balustrade. He was trapped. Max didn’t stop, snatching Sundridge’s throat in a strong hand and leaning in. The younger man pleaded, “Your Grace, I swear. It was innocent. We were only talking. Tell him, Lady Violet!”