two years, eleven months, one week and three days.
Violet Branham, the Countess of Ellsworth, his wife might indeed be the right woman for him. Six years ago he’d been too young or too stupid or too scared to realize it or possibly accept it. Now, however...
For a fleeting moment, he could have sworn he heard Uncle Richard chuckling in the distance.
“APPARENTLY, JAMES HAS a legitimate office.” Violet stirred a dollop of cream into the Turkish coffee she preferred that Richard’s—or rather James’s or now her cook, she supposed—always had on hand for her visits. Thanks to a restless night, Violet had slept later than usual and it was nearly noon before she came downstairs to join Cleo in the cozy breakfast room where the widow was sorting through Violet’s correspondence. “And keeps business hours.”
“Who would have thought.” Cleo bit back a smile. Apparently, her companion found the fact that Uncle Richard’s comments in recent years about how much James had changed, the responsibilities he’d taken on, his head for management and business and his accompanying maturity did have a basis in fact and were not simply the ramblings of a loving uncle, to be most amusing.
Cleo Ryland had been Violet’s companion, secretary and dear friend almost from the very day Violet had hired her. A scant three years older than Violet, the pretty young widow had been the first person to answer Violet’s advertisement when she had decided to use James’s financial support to travel. Violet liked her immediately and the feeling was mutual. Cleo was well-educated, intelligent with a clever wit and a desire to do something with her life other than marry the first man who came along simply for financial salvation. She was also tired of her family’s—particularly her mother’s—constant harping on how she needed to find a new husband before she was too old to do so. She and Violet had a great deal in common when it came to mothers. Within days, Violet had Cleo’s references checked and the two women were off to see the world.
“It’s most convenient, really. I’d prefer not to be around him every minute.” Especially as Violet had no desire to continue yesterday’s discussion quite yet. Still, it had remained on her mind throughout the long night. As much as she hated to admit it, James was right. There was little choice but to abide by the terms of Uncle Richard’s will. “Unless he was at one of his many clubs, my father was always in the house. Usually in his library.”
Violet glanced around the morning room. It could use a bit of freshening. In fact, the entire house could stand refurbishment. It had been a bachelor abode for entirely too long. That might be something she could take on during the next three years. She’d never been the mistress of a house and it sounded rather like fun. She had, after all, been trained for the position. It was the only thing she’d been expected to do with her life.
“In spite of the circumstances, I am glad to be back in London.” Violet sipped her coffee, savoring the hearty aroma and the deep flavor mellowed by the rich cream. “This time it feels different, as if I have indeed returned for good.”
“I suppose even the lure of the adventure to be found in travel pales in time.”
“Perhaps.” It had indeed been the grandest of adventures. “One does like to pause now and again. To catch one’s breath.”
“Three years is more than enough time to catch one’s breath.” Cleo studied her curiously. “You’re going to do it, aren’t you?”
Violet met her friend’s gaze. “I am.”
Cleo glanced at the door as if to make certain they were alone then lowered her voice. “What are you going to do about you-know-who?”
“Quite frankly,” Violet winced, “I haven’t given him a second thought.”
Cleo’s eyes widened. “That’s rather telling, isn’t it? I thought you and he were—”
“We’re not,” Violet said firmly. “Admittedly, we have discussed the possibility of something more, as well as the possibility of divorce, but there’s never really been anything more between us. I’ve been very clear about how I feel. He’s been a good friend and he’s a very nice man. And if I were free, well...” She shook her head. “I can’t ask him to wait three years in hopes that my feelings will become more significant than they are.”
“I see.” Cleo considered her. “But you are going to spend three years with a man you haven’t spoken to in nearly six?”
Violet knew Cleo wouldn’t understand. Cleo believed James had ruined Violet’s life and therefore was the root of all evil in the world. “I know you don’t like James—”
Cleo snorted.
“—but I owe him a great deal.”
“Nonsense.” Cleo sniffed. “You don’t owe him anything.”
“On the contrary, Cleo.” Violet blew a long breath. “He could have made my life miserable. You and I both know women whose husbands have tired of them or never especially wanted them in the first place. Their lives look fine on the surface but everyone knows how dreadfully unhappy they are. They are the subject of quiet ridicule and blatant pity. James saved me from that.” She shook her head. “He married me because of a silly mistake that nonetheless would have ruined my life. He deserves some credit for doing the right thing.”
“He married you and then went his own way. According to everything we’ve heard, he’s behaved exactly as he did before he was married.” Cleo pinned her with a firm look. “I think you should tell him to shove off.”
Violet laughed. “You are a good friend but in this, you’re wrong.” She thought for a moment. “In providing generous financial support, as well as freedom and independence, James gave me the world.
“I wouldn’t have become who I am and I certainly would never have met you, Cleo, had he insisted on my being an expected sort of wife. Think of the things we’ve seen, the things we’ve done, the people we’ve met and those we’ve helped in some small way. James made it all possible and for that I’m grateful.” She shrugged. “I didn’t say it would be easy and I’m not especially happy about it. And yes, three years is a long time, but James saved me once. Now it’s my turn to save him.”
“Are you going to tell him how you feel?”
“Don’t be absurd. I’ll tell him I’ve decided to abide by the terms of the will, but I certainly won’t say I’m grateful to him.” She adopted a wicked smile. “It would go straight to his head and that wouldn’t be any fun at all. Nor do I intend to make this easy for him.”
“That sounds something like revenge.”
“I prefer to think of it more as retribution. If he wants his inheritance, I intend to make him work for it. I’m not sure how at the moment, but I’m certain opportunities will arise.” She paused. “Besides, I like the idea of his being in my debt.”
“I hadn’t thought of that.” Cleo nodded. “Very clever.”
Violet sipped her coffee. “Aside from everything else, this was Uncle Richard’s last wish. I owe him, as well.”
Still, as grateful as she was for the life James had given her, there were some things she could not ignore. He never made any attempt at a real marriage with her. He never saw her, never spoke to her. Admittedly, she had said she never wanted to see him again, but that sort of thing did tend to mellow with the years. There were any number of times—especially in the first few years—when she would have been receptive to overtures, even reconciliation. When she might well have returned to truly be his wife. But he’d made no effort whatsoever. And he’d certainly never asked her to come home. Oh, she could have taken the first step toward him. Whether it was a matter of pride or simple stubbornness or apprehension, Violet refused to do so. James had made the decision