anything of it. Now, he wondered how he could have been such an idiot.
Jeremy would never have lured an eligible young virgin of marriageable age out onto a balcony—to do so and to be caught was to be forced into marriage, and if the Jeremy of eight-and-twenty was disinterested in matrimony, the Jeremy of five years prior would have shuddered at the very word. Clearly, there had been something else afoot. It was tempting to succumb to anger—James’s instinctive reaction to anything bearing his father’s fingerprints—but he was trying, if only belatedly, to learn to trust those around him, or at least give them the benefit of the doubt. He therefore resisted the temptation to bang down Jeremy’s door and present him with his accusations—and perhaps a fist to the jaw.
Instead, he rode back to the house at a feverish pace, and upon arriving, hopped off his mount and tossed the reins to a stable hand, entering the house directly from the mews and startling a scullery maid when he raced past her on the kitchen stairs. He found Wooton in the entryway, inspecting the banister railings with a white glove, in a move so entirely and stereotypically butlerish that James was, for an instant, seized with a mad desire to laugh.
“Is Lady James awake?” he asked without preamble.
Wooton straightened at the sight of him. “She is entertaining Lady Templeton and Lord Willingham with tea in the library,” said Wooton, and this piece of news caused James to freeze in the act of removing his gloves. “Shall I announce you, my lord?”
“No, thank you, Wooton,” James said, finishing the glove removal at a slightly less frenetic pace. “I’ll just surprise them, I think.”
“Very good, my lord,” Wooton said with a bow, and departed—off to do whatever mysterious things butlers did all day, that all together resulted in a quietly and efficiently run house. James set off down the hallway toward the library. He hadn’t counted on Violet having company, and particularly not on Jeremy being among said company. He supposed Jeremy had come in search of him and had stayed to converse with the ladies instead, though he reflected on the oddity of Jeremy paying a call just past noon; at this time of day, he was usually still abed (and frequently in someone else’s company).
It was strange, too, for Diana to be here this early—she kept fashionable hours, and James was certain he had heard her remark more than once on how odd she found Violet and James’s habit of early rising. He had a sneaking suspicion that Jeremy’s and Diana’s uncharacteristically early calls had something to do with the events of the previous evening; he and Violet had, after all, made rather a spectacle of themselves. He was sick of the games and the arguments and the interfering lunatics he called friends. He just wanted to have an honest conversation with his wife.
To be followed, preferably, by a lengthy interlude in bed.
This thought, in turn, conjured vivid memories of the events of the night before. Violet, her head tilted back wantonly, eyes shut, dark hair in disarray. The feeling of her hips tilting against his own in silent invitation. The heat and warmth of her as he had slid home, again and again and—
Christ.
How could he have ever thought than anyone other than Violet would satisfy him?
You didn’t, said the quiet, reasonable voice that occupied some small corner of his head. Not really.
And he knew it was true. Why else had he spent the past four years as chaste as a monk, in a house with a woman who loathed him? Because he’d never stopped hoping, never stopped wanting, even if he hadn’t been able to admit it, even to himself.
And that was the problem, really. Wasn’t that what Violet had been saying in her roundabout fashion last night? He’d loved her, but he’d lost faith in her at the slightest provocation. He’d let his past dictate his future, and he’d never done the slightest thing to fight for that future.
He was the son of a duke, and as such, he wasn’t accustomed to having to fight for much of anything. And when something didn’t come easily to him, he abandoned it.
Mathematics? Easy. Wedding Violet? Easy. Inheriting his father’s stables? Easy.
But moving past childhood hurts? His relationship with West? Marriage to Violet? More difficult. And so he’d never really tried.
And his life was undoubtedly emptier because of it.
So now it was time to do something about it.
The door