door to reveal Jeremy standing on the steps.
“Wooton, old boy,” Jeremy said, his voice ringing through the entryway, “did I leave my hat here earlier? I was so distracted by Lady Templeton’s haranguing on the way out that I think I walked off without it. On second thought, perhaps I should just purchase a new one and send the bill to her.”
“I believe you did, my lord,” Wooton said, stepping aside to allow Jeremy into the house. “I would be happy to fetch it for you.”
“Capital,” Jeremy said, then added, “Is your master at home?”
Wooton nodded. “He is, my lord, but I fear he is rather busy at the moment.”
“Still lying prostrate at his wife’s feet, I expect,” Jeremy said cheerfully, his smile slipping a bit when his eyes landed on Violet, who was nearly at the bottom of the stairs. “Or perhaps not. Violet, old girl, please tell me you’ve forgiven the poor sod.”
“Jeremy,” Violet said, trying to keep her tone severe, despite the fact that everything seemed to make her want to smile today. “Why would you think I’ve forgiven him?” she asked curiously—after all, when Jeremy had last left the house, Violet and Diana had been discussing the relative merits of Violet having an affair.
“Well, he seemed pretty cut up about this whole business of his father and your mother having orchestrated your meeting—I assume the idiot realizes he should have trusted you now.” Behind Jeremy, Wooton had discreetly slipped back into the shadows, presumably in search of the missing hat—as ever, Jeremy paid little heed to who might be listening to him speak, no matter the topic. Violet felt a sudden wave of cold wash over her, as though she had just been submerged in ice water. Jeremy, who seemed blithely unaware of the effect his words were having, continued on cheerfully.
“I presume he told you about my role in the evening’s events? I owe you an apology, of course—I could have damaged your reputation, and it was quite shabby of me.”
Violet barely heard him, her entire being focused on one single fact: James had lied. He had said he hadn’t discussed anything of importance with the duke this morning, and he had lied.
Why hadn’t she seen it? Why had she been so ready to accept his claims that he had simply realized all at once that he should have trusted her from the start?
Because she wanted it to be true. And this, too, was true: he had told her what she wanted to hear, and she had lapped it up like a fool. But it had been a lie. James hadn’t trusted her—the only thing that had brought him to her bedroom door was confirmation he had received from Jeremy that Violet hadn’t been plotting with her mother all along.
So in all the big ways, nothing had changed. James still didn’t trust her—from what she could make out of Jeremy’s chatter, it seemed that he was the one who was deserving of James’s distrust, and yet there was no sign of any cracking in their friendship. A surge of fury coursed through her, and Violet all at once had no more time for this.
With some sort of sixth sense that she only seemed to possess with regard to her husband, she suddenly became aware that he was near, and darted a glance sideways. He was standing, frozen, at the end of the hallway, a sheaf of papers in his hand—he had mentioned something about needing to see to a pressing piece of business regarding the dratted stables, because even in a postcoital daze, he apparently couldn’t keep his mind off them. His eyes shifted between Jeremy and her, until their gazes locked.
“There you are, Audley!” Jeremy said, still—somehow!—oblivious to the fact that the temperature in the house seemed to have plummeted in the past minute. “I was just asking your lovely wife if you’d successfully groveled, as we discussed.”
“Jeremy,” James said, his eyes never leaving Violet’s, “get out of my house.” His tone wasn’t angry, precisely, but it wasn’t one that left room for disagreement, either.
“I say, Audley—”
“Now.” James’s eyes broke from hers, and Violet could see his unspoken message to Jeremy: Please. I am begging you. Jeremy, apparently, could read this, too, for he departed with a few murmured niceties to Violet and one last, baffled look at his best friend. Wooton rematerialized from the shadows in time to hand Jeremy his hat and close the door behind him, then wisely vanished once more.
Never