Theo watched the knob turn as the door slowly cracked open. Well, well…his little doe did want to escape. But not from him. It was her mother whom she didn’t want to be with now. He’d seen it, of course. The way the mother made sure every word, every breath was politely perfect. It had been the same with his father. It made him clench in annoyance. He had this urge to free Violette the way he’d emancipated himself.

The door stopped and Violette appeared in the crack. She was in a night rail that came up about her neck and flowed around her body, her feet bare. It showed nothing, but somehow he could still picture running his hands up underneath the fabric. There would be very little in the way to stop him. What would her legs be like?

His eyes travelled up her body as though he might be able to see. But he forgot all about her legs as his eyes took in the vision of her hair undone, hanging to near her waist.

“I…I was about to braid it when I dropped the brush,” she said, her voice faltering. Violette must have seen his gaze. He looked into her face then, which was equally distracting. Her large chocolate eyes and full red lips tempting beyond belief.

He gave a nod. “That makes sense.” Why did his voice sound like that? Rough and guttural. “Let me just have a look. Where did you hit your head?”

She pointed and he could see the egg forming on her forehead. He pulled his lips taut, wincing in pain on her behalf. He raised his hand, then gently touched the flesh. Her skin was warm and achingly soft, her pale complexion markedly different from his own dark, rough skin.

She pulled away a little as he touched a tender spot. Regretfully he moved his hand away. “How many fingers am I holding up?” He raised two and watched her eyes focus in on the digits.

“Two,” she answered softly, her gaze clear, her expression bright.

With a nod, he lowered his hand, resisting the urge to touch her again. “You’re fine,” he whispered.

“Thank you, Mr. Riley,” she replied.

He held in his rumble of protest as she used the formal address. He wanted to hear his given name fall from those lush lips. “You’re welcome.”

Theo heard her draw in a breath. He touched the doorframe and swayed a little closer. He’d like to press his lips to hers, feel her exhale in his mouth.

“If I do not see you in the morning, it was a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Riley.” The words rushed from her lips and then, not waiting for his response, she snapped the door closed again.

He raised his fist to knock. That could not be the end of their relationship. But if it wasn’t, then what was? He would return to Barbados and she would marry, he was sure of it. Why did that sound awful? Giving a low growl, he stomped back to his room. He’d not let one pretty face rewrite his future. At first light, he’d take a carriage home. He’d spend a few days with his family, just long enough for Rex to join him, and then they’d return to the ship. Rex had been right. If a man wasn’t careful, England would sink its claws into him and not let go.

But sleep took a long time to come and he’d hardly slept at all before he was rising. He washed quickly, dressed, and left his room. Pausing outside Violette’s door, he stared at the wooden panels, looking for answers to questions he didn’t dare ask.

With a decided stomp of his foot, he continued down the hall. He didn’t like leaving her. He thought of that man last night, of other men who might try to take advantage. As he made his way out of the inn, he considered the man who might marry her. The one who would explore her legs, her lips. His fist clenched and he thumped his closed fingers against his thigh.

The carriage he’d hired yesterday pulled up to the front of the inn and he climbed inside, not glancing back. He would not look back. Lady Violette would have to live in his past. He ignored the way his lips turned down. He wasn’t the marrying type, but if he were, she might be just the sort he’d consider. Warm, beautiful, and with something hidden beneath her exterior. It almost made him wish… Theo pushed those thoughts aside. He would return to Barbados. Not just because he wanted to but because he’d begun a project there that he needed to see through.

Violette heard a stomp outside her door and sprang from the bed, then raced to the window. Her heart hoped it was Mr. Riley, and when he emerged from the inn moments later she knew she’d been right.

She watched his broad shoulders hunch to fit through the carriage door and then the door snapped closed.

Her breath caught somewhere between a sigh and a sob. She’d never see him again.

When he’d touched her last night, something deep had sparked inside her. Much like the first ember of a fire. It was tiny, a small flame. It could be put out, of course. She’d have to do so, but it resisted, staying lit inside her heart, threatening to become a fire and then an inferno. She absolutely could not allow that to happen. There was no room for such desires in her life.

Turning away from the view of the carriage leaving, a single tear slipped down her cheek. She didn’t know what her future held but she was certain it was as cold and gray as the weather. All the heat and promise of life had just ridden away.

Dropping back onto her bed, she buried her face into her pillow. No one would hear her cry. It wasn’t just Mr. Riley who upset her, though she longed to feel his touch again. It was all the circumstances well beyond her control that dictated her entire life.

She wasn’t sure how long she stayed there, but when her mother stirred, she rose too. Wiping her eyes with the back of her hand, she took a deep breath and straightened her spine. She’d have to lock these feelings away and do her duty for her family.

She pictured Daffodil, her little sister, who was about to turn eighteen. Daffodil was lovely and deserved a brighter future. That thought helped her to calmly dress her hair and put on her best travelling gown. By the time she was done, nearly all the puffiness around her eyes had dissipated. She powdered her forehead, hoping to disguise the lump. Today, she’d meet the Duke of Waverly. No matter how he looked or acted, she’d do her utmost to win his affection and gain a match.

After a quick meal, where her mother assessed her features with narrowed eyes, they climbed back into their carriage.

Frankly, she was surprised her mother didn’t say more but the other woman coughed several times and looked rather puffy around the eyes herself. She almost asked, but her mother’s disapproving glare stopped her.

Violette was equally nervous during that day’s carriage ride but for entirely different reasons as she once again stared through a rain-soaked window. They’d arrive in the early evening. She was sure they would be allowed a brief rest before she joined the family for a formal dinner where introductions would be made.

She promised herself that she absolutely would not think of Mr. Riley today and especially not this evening, but his image kept popping into her mind as the carriage bumped along. They’d left in the same general direction. Would they see him? Mayhap his carriage would break a wheel and they could once again rescue him. But it was a ridiculous daydream that she pushed away.

“You’re awfully quiet,” her mother said as she sat across from her, holding in another cough. “And your head looks dreadful. What happened?”

“I banged it on my desk last night,” she answered automatically. Her mother would needle it out of her either way.

Her mother gave a humph. “That was foolish. What will the duke think of you with a large lump on your face?”

Her hands fisted at her side. “I couldn’t begin to guess, Mother.”

“He’ll think you’re clumsy and likely foolish,” her mother snapped back. “Why yesterday, of all days, did you have to ruin your forehead?”

She clenched her teeth. It was a pointless conversation. “I did it on purpose in the hopes of being rejected. It gives me a great deal of pleasure to be dismissed by potential suitors as we travel from door to door begging for a man to take me.”

“Violette.” Her mother smacked her hand down on the sill of the window. “That is the most ridiculous comment I’ve ever heard.”

She bit back the words that crowded her mouth. She wanted to say they were no more ridiculous than her mother’s question, but she chose to say nothing instead.

“I raised you to be more polite than that.” Her mother folded her hands in her lap looking tired.

Violette looked away, hoping to calm her jangled nerves. “I was raised to be the sacrificial lamb.”

“Enough,” her mother’s voice sliced through carriage. “What has gotten into you today?”

Violette didn’t want to answer right away. She’d met a man who made her heart race. She knew that Mr. Riley wasn’t interested in marriage, but how grand would it be to meet a man whom she was excited about and to have the possibility of marrying him? “I’m nervous.”

“That does not give you the right to be rude to your elders.” Her mother snapped back.

“Please, let me be, at least for today.” Violette leaned back in her seat. She needed quiet to compose herself.

Silence, thick and tense, filled the carriage until her mother finally answered, “Fine. I don’t have the strength to argue with you anyway.”

Relief made her shoulders sag before she looked back over to assess her mother again. That was not something she would normally say. Was her mother all right?

But the older woman had closed her eyes. It was just as well. Violette didn’t want to ask her mother any more questions during this ride. She needed her wits to prepare for tonight.

Heavy dread settled in her stomach. How would she get through this night?