assistance, then I shall take my leave of you.” He hated the sound of his own voice when he was speaking to her, sometimes—never did he sound like so much of a prig as when he was conversing with his own wife.
He reminded himself, as he so often did, that he was not the party at fault in this mess—he had reacted as any man would have upon learning his own wife had manipulated him in so appalling a fashion. The fact that he had to remind himself of this fact at all was itself a dangerous sign—for a good while after their last, final argument, he’d been too angry to think clearly. He’d never needed reminding then.
“I require nothing of you,” Violet said softly, in response to his last statement. And for a moment James wanted to shake her, to demand that she ask something, anything of him—he was her husband, after all, for better or for worse.
But, of course, he could not say that to her. So instead he bowed, and said nothing more at all.
Violet’s plan was proving to be more complicated than she had anticipated.
“Of course it is,” Diana said impatiently the next day as she, Violet, and Emily reclined in Diana’s barouche outside Gunter’s. “I do believe my exact words to you when you confessed this idea were, ‘Have you lost your mind?’ ”
“And I assured you that I had done no such thing,” Violet said, pausing to take a bite of her ice. It was a warm day, and Berkeley Square was packed with carriages and curricles full of other ladies similarly enjoying ices in the sunshine. Violet spotted at least three different clusters of ladies that she knew, but she did no more than nod in acknowledgment upon catching their eyes. She did not wish to be disturbed.
“However,” she conceded, “this is presenting some difficulties. Do you think your physician would be willing to lie to the son of a duke?”
Diana and Emily both blinked at her, Emily with a spoon suspended halfway to her mouth.
“It’s just that if I’m going to maintain this ruse, I’ll eventually need a physician to say that I’m truly ill, and I know James’s physician won’t do it. So I need to find someone else.”
“And you don’t think he’ll find it suspicious that you’re suddenly consulting a different physician?” Emily asked skeptically.
“I shall just tell him that I want someone who has nothing to do with the Audley family,” Violet said, waving a spoon dismissively. “He won’t question me overmuch after I tell him that.”
“What a pleasant time the two of you must have of it,” Diana said, shaking her head. “Tell me, at mealtimes, do you slice your meat with great gusto whilst staring at your husband menacingly across the table?”
“Only on special occasions,” Violet said, refusing to rise to the bait. “But the fact remains, if I want to give James what for, I’ll need a physician at some point.”
“Or someone who looks like a physician,” Emily said thoughtfully, surprising Violet—she had rather expected Emily to be the one who objected more strenuously to all this.
“What do you mean?”
“Well, you’ll struggle to find a physician willing to lie to a lady’s husband, especially when the husband in question is the second son of a duke,” Emily said. She took a bite of her ice. “So you might be better served by finding someone who could pose as a physician.”
“What, an actor?” Violet asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Certainly not,” Emily said, blushing. “The very idea! It would be most inappropriate for a lady of your breeding to even be in the company of an actor, there’s no one who—”
“Wait,” Diana said, her eyes lighting up. “There’s one actor whose company would be acceptable.”
“Who?” Emily asked, her tone highly skeptical. “Violet’s reputation would be compromised if she were seen in the company of anyone involved with the theater. And it’s not as though actors tend to frequent Wednesday nights at Almack’s.”
“Lucky them,” Violet murmured.
“That’s where you’re wrong,” Diana said gleefully. “There’s one who does. Well,” she amended, “probably not Almack’s, because no one in their right mind would choose to go there. But there is one person involved with the theater who has entrée to places we can reach him.”
Violet leaned forward, intrigued. “Diana, I do believe your penchant for gossip is finally proving useful.”
“Indeed,” Diana said smugly. “I take it you two do not recall the scandal of the Marquess of Eastvale’s son?”