Lady Traveller's Guide To Happily Ever After. Victoria Alexander
how much these years apart had changed either of them. The moment she saw him again, she knew somewhere deep inside she would have to keep her distance and guard against the resurfacing of any of those feelings she’d once thought she had for him. The man was not to be trusted, at least not with her heart. Regardless of his intent, and whether he realized it or not, he had broken her heart all those years ago. She would not allow him to do so again.
“It might even be fun.” Violet grinned. “Being Lady Ellsworth, that is.”
“One can only hope.” Cleo smiled. “You are already in high demand. There are a number of invitations here to consider.”
“So soon?”
“According to his lordship’s secretary, the earl is routinely invited to nearly everything of note, although his attendance is rare. Even though you weren’t here, invitations were always addressed to Mr. and Mrs. Branham and now, of course, to Lord and Lady Ellsworth.” She paused. “Everyone in society is going to be talking about your reconciliation, you know. The attention on the two of you will be unrelenting.”
“Thank you for the reminder.” Violet had very nearly put the stipulation about appearing as a happy couple out of her head.
She knew full well there was no possible way for the two of them to appear in public without causing a tidal wave of gossip. Violet Branham may be clever, confident and sophisticated when it came to the rest of the world but here in London, she had always feared she might slip back into the docile creature she used to be. That when presented with the unforgiving, unrelenting judgmental nature of London society—of her mother and people exactly like her—time would reverse itself and she would again be the unassuming wallflower she had once been. Precisely why she never stayed long in England. That would be yet another challenge of the next three years. “Let’s wait to decide what to accept until we speak to Mrs. Higginbotham and her friends tonight. I’m sure they will have some suggestions.”
“Lady Ellsworth.” Andrews appeared at the door. “Lady Cranton is here.”
Cleo winced.
“Tell her I’m not at home,” Violet said.
A distinct look of distress washed over the butler’s face.
Violet grimaced. “She knows I’m here, doesn’t she?”
“I’m afraid so, my lady.”
“It can’t be helped I suppose.” Violet sighed. “Please show her into the parlor. Oh, and then ask the kitchen for tea and a tray of biscuits.” Violet glanced at Cleo. “You know how she’ll be if I don’t offer her something.”
Cleo shuddered.
“Anything else, my lady?” Andrews asked.
“A pot of coffee as well, I think.” Violet nodded. “That will do. Thank you, Andrews.”
The butler nodded and hurried off.
“You do realize, living in England for the next three years, seeing her will be unavoidable.”
“I hadn’t thought of that. Although that in itself is enough to make me change my mind,” Violet added and rose to her feet.
“Are you sure you want to talk to her alone?”
“Not really, but this is my house and I’m not going to put up with her nonsense in my own home.” She started toward the parlor. “But do say a little prayer for me, Cleo.”
“I daresay a single prayer will not be nearly enough.” Cleo’s words trailed after her.
Violet paused before the parlor doors, summoned every ounce of confidence she possessed, adopted a pleasant smile and pushed open the doors. “Good morning, Mother.”
Margaret, Viscountess Cranton, was as tall as her daughter with hair a few shades darker. That, Violet had always thought, was where the similarities ended. While Mother was still a fine figure of a woman, she was stern and unrelenting in her pursuit of what she deemed to be required or proper. Mother’s unyielding nature was evident in her manner and her speech and showed on her face. Mother, Violet had long suspected, had never been especially happy. She would have felt sorry for Father but he didn’t seem to care.
“Please God, Violet, have you at last come to your senses?”
“Delightful to see you again, Mother.” Violet smiled coolly. “I thought I’d see you before now. Lady Brockwell’s ball was the day before yesterday, after all.”
“I’ve been in the country. We returned last night.” Mother glared. “I demand to know what’s going on.”
“Do be seated, Mother.” Violet waved at the sofa, then settled in a nearby chair.
Mother glanced around the parlor, no doubt assessing the quality and cost of every item in the room. She probably hadn’t stepped foot in Ellsworth House since James’s ill-fated engagement party all those years ago.
“Well, go on.”
“I’m not sure what you want to know.”
“Don’t be evasive.” Mother’s brows drew together. “You know exactly what I’m asking.”
A discreet knock sounded at the parlor doors before they opened and Andrews rolled in a tea cart. Mother set her jaw impatiently. It would never do to be caught discussing private matters with servants present.
“Would you like me to pour, my lady?” Andrews asked.
“I’ll do it. Thank you, Andrews.” Violet smiled and nodded in dismissal.
Andrews took his leave, no doubt grateful to escape.
“Would you care for tea?” Violet said, even as she poured a cup.
“At least you haven’t forgotten everything you were taught.” Mother accepted the cup and added sugar.
“I assure you, Mother, I’ve forgotten absolutely nothing.” Violet poured herself a cup of coffee.
“Is that coffee?” Disapproval furrowed Mother’s brow.
“It is.” Violet widened her eyes innocently. “Oh, I do apologize. Did you prefer coffee?”
“Don’t be absurd.” Mother considered coffee a drink of the lower classes and therefore beneath her. “No doubt you picked up a taste for it in some godforsaken foreign coffeehouse.”
“No doubt.”
Mother cautiously selected two biscuits, as if she wanted to assure herself of their quality before indulging. Violet’s jaw tightened.
“Why are you here, Mother?”
“Instead of waiting for you to call on me?” Mother’s brow soared upward. “Who knows when that might happen.”
“Come now, Mother. I join you and Father and Caroline for dinner whenever I’m in London.” As much as neither Violet nor her mother enjoyed it, Violet always paid an obligatory call on her family, which usually included dinner. An ordeal no one especially enjoyed. Conversation inevitably centered around what a perfect daughter twenty-year-old Caroline was with her brilliant prospects for a match and the disastrous state of Violet’s own marriage. A failure that was obviously her fault. Truth was never especially important to Mother.
The fact of the matter was Mother had never forgiven Violet for being the subject of scandal, compounded by her not becoming the perfect Mrs. Branham, now Lady Ellsworth, she was expected to be. She should have been a force in society, a renowned hostess and mother of a respectable number of offspring. A daughter an ambitious mother could be proud of. And Violet had never forgiven her mother for leaping at the chance to marry her off. Not merely because of a relatively minor scandal but because she thought this was Violet’s only chance for an acceptable marriage. Which might well have been true but was beside the point nonetheless.
No one ever said aloud what the real problem