Cavendish . . .” Justin’s voice was hesitant. “Truly it was my fault. I asked her to come away from the party . . . Blame me.”
“I do, sir,” she said bluntly. “But it is not my response you need to be concerned about.” She swept Alexandra out the door.
A full minute of silence reigned in the library. Justin didn’t seem to know where to look. Wes counted to ten to save his temper from erupting. “What the devil?”
He must have mastered himself better than he thought, because a slight smile crossed Justin’s face. “She’s very pretty.”
Wes stared at him stonily.
“She’s great fun too.”
Wes maintained his stare.
Justin began to wilt. “It was naught but a little kiss.”
“Don’t you ever say that to me again!” Anger finally boiled over. Justin flinched as Wes advanced on him in a fury. “Go to your room and stay there. Do not speak to anyone. Do not ring for a servant to remove your boots. Do not do anything but sit quietly in your room. If I can’t trust you to do that, we leave tomorrow morning even if we must climb through snowbanks higher than our heads, carrying our baggage. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Uncle,” Justin muttered.
Wes continued to glare at him. “I will attempt to smooth things over as much as possible. If you leave your room before I come speak to you, I shall find a switch and thrash you like the boy you clearly still are.”
“Yes, Uncle,” Justin whispered.
Wes grabbed his jacket from a nearby chair and flung it at him. “Go.”
Justin’s ears were red as he tugged his jacket back on and ducked out of the room.
Wes paced for a few minutes. Bloody hell. Was that boy’s head completely empty? What was he thinking?
He had to stop himself there. Of course he knew what was in Justin’s head; much the same desire had been beating away at Wes’s own brain. If not for Justin, he might be kissing Viola Cavendish right now . . .
But that was a totally different situation, he argued to himself. He was not a green boy and she was not an innocent young lady. They both knew what they were doing. If he kissed her, if she kissed him, it would be because they both wanted it . . .
He sighed. It didn’t really matter. And he suspected that how he handled Justin’s indiscretion would have a large impact on whether he’d ever get another chance with Viola.
* * *
Viola kept a firm grip on Alexandra’s arm as she hurried down the corridor toward the dowager’s apartment. The only way for Alexandra to head off any trouble over the kiss was to confess it immediately to her mother, before a careless comment or whisper could blow the whole thing out of proportion. Viola also hoped the experience would leave a lasting impression on the girl and prevent her from doing it again.
“Viola, I’m sorry.” Now Alexandra was full of contrition. “But it was only a little kiss! Nothing more. Surely you don’t think I’d forget myself enough to do worse.”
“I don’t know anything. You slipped away with a man and went into the dark library, which looks very guilty. Girls have been ruined for doing that.”
“Ruined! It was nothing!”
Viola stopped. “A little kiss is nothing. But what would have come next?”
Alexandra blinked. “Nothing! Newton would never—”
“Perhaps not, but you don’t know him well enough to be certain of that. I would hate to see you make a terrible mistake next time.”
Alexandra flushed from her neckline to her ears. “Next time?”
“If you can do it once, you can do it again. The next time a handsome man whispers pretty words in your ear and begs you to sneak out with him, you’ll be more likely to go. After all, you got away with it before and bore no consequences.” Viola raised her brows at Alexandra’s shocked expression. “Don’t tell me it’s impossible. In London there will be many handsome men wanting to dance with you and kiss you, and some of them will not have restraint or honor.”
“But I never have a chance to do anything!” the girl protested, tears thickening her voice. “I’m always behind Serena, waiting for her to find a husband. Well, now she’s been jilted and I’m still waiting. All the gentlemen look at her first—next spring even Bridget will be out with me, and I shall just be the Cavendish sister in the middle. I’ll end up like Aunt Sophronia—”
Viola rolled her