had a silence seemed so deafening.
“Violet—” James said, taking three quick steps toward her. His tone was calm, soothing, and for some reason this did nothing but stoke the flame of anger that was rising within her.
“You lied to me.” She barely recognized her own voice, so cold did it sound.
“I might have neglected to mention a few things,” James said carefully, then winced, as though even he could see this for the evasion that it was. He looked at her directly, took a breath. “Yes. I lied.”
“So when you told me that you suddenly realized that you were letting your father control your life,” Violet said, striving to keep her voice calm, despite the fact that she felt as though a veritable storm of emotions was swirling within her, “that you realized that you should have trusted me, your wife, all along . . .” She paused, inhaling—her voice had cracked a bit on the word wife.
“It was all a lie,” she said simply. It was not a question.
“Violet,” he said again, not moving this time, though she could see how badly he wanted to. He seemed to sense, however, that a single false step could cost him dearly in this moment. “What I told you was true. I didn’t mention the business with Jeremy because I didn’t want to complicate things.”
“Oh no,” Violet said, her voice sounding brittle, as though it were about to crack and shatter. “Because of course things have been frightfully simple between us lately.”
“Damn it,” he said—he did not raise his voice or alter his tone, but the amount of feeling, of emotion packed into those two simple words was enough to nearly make her take a step backward. “I am sick of quarreling with you.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” Violet said, growing truly heated now, and she was grateful for the fury, because for a ridiculous moment she had been afraid that she would begin to weep. “Perhaps you shouldn’t have married me, then. Perhaps you should have married one of those other insipid, simpering girls who made their debut during my Season—the ones you told me you found so frightfully boring.”
“There’s a vast plain between boring and you, Violet,” he said angrily, running his hand through his hair, as she’d often seen him do during their arguments when they’d first married, though it had been so long since they’d had a proper fight, she’d nearly forgotten the gesture. It felt oddly intimate and strange to see it again now, and she welcomed it, even as rage coursed through her.
“How kind of you to say,” she replied. “Truly, the most graceful compliment I’ve received in years.”
James swore under his breath; then, in a movement so quick Violet didn’t have a chance to prevent it, he leapt up the stairs, seized her by the elbow, and began leading her forcibly down the hallway.
“Take your hands off of me,” Violet said, swatting ineffectively at his fingers, which suddenly seemed to be made of iron, so unrelenting was his grip. “I am not a dog to be dragged where you please.”
James ignored her, steering her into the library and closing the door firmly behind them both.
“I do apologize,” he said curtly, “but I thought it best to take precautionary measures, since you were showing signs of becoming shrill.”
“Shrill?” Violet winced at the pitch that emanated from her own mouth, then tried again, more calmly. “Shrill?”
“I can’t imagine what I was so worried about,” he said dryly, crossing his arms. Seeming restless, he uncrossed them, then glanced around the room. Violet wasn’t certain what he was looking for until a moment later, when he moved quickly to the sideboard and seized the snifter of brandy that was stored there. He haphazardly poured a measure of the liquid into one tumbler, then another, and turned to hand her a glass.
The contents of which, of course, she promptly hurled into his face.
It was oddly satisfying, watching him gape at her as brandy dripped down his face. She sailed past him to the sideboard, where she refilled her glass and took a leisurely sip before turning back to face her still-silent husband.
James wiped his face roughly on his sleeve, then tossed back half of the contents of his glass in a single gulp.
“I believe you’re supposed to savor it,” Violet said, taking another small sip and examining her fingernails. “At least, that’s what I recall you telling me once.”
“That brandy cost a damn fortune.”
“Precisely my point, darling. I don’t think it