Lady Traveller's Guide To Happily Ever After. Victoria Alexander

I intend to make him work for it. I’m not sure how at the moment, but I’m certain opportunities will arise.” She paused. “Besides, I like the idea of his being in my debt.”

      “I hadn’t thought of that.” Cleo nodded. “Very clever.”

      Violet sipped her coffee. “Aside from everything else, this was Uncle Richard’s last wish. I owe him, as well.”

      Still, as grateful as she was for the life James had given her, there were some things she could not ignore. He never made any attempt at a real marriage with her. He never saw her, never spoke to her. Admittedly, she had said she never wanted to see him again, but that sort of thing did tend to mellow with the years. There were any number of times—especially in the first few years—when she would have been receptive to overtures, even reconciliation. When she might well have returned to truly be his wife. But he’d made no effort whatsoever. And he’d certainly never asked her to come home. Oh, she could have taken the first step toward him. Whether it was a matter of pride or simple stubbornness or apprehension, Violet refused to do so. James had made the decision as to the type of marriage they’d have, he had determined the path of their lives and it was up to James to change that path.

      She might be willing to give him three years but forgiveness was another question entirely. It scarcely mattered 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