“Yes,” Liza said. “You must write to me often, while I am in London, and if you are ever in any need, you must call on my family. I am certain that my father and mother would aid you.”
Violet nodded, and a swell of affection rose within her. Liza was a far better friend than she deserved. Still, Violet doubted that she could ever ask the Baron and Baroness of Wesbrook for aid. Violet’s father would feel betrayed. Even in poverty, he was a proud and independent creature, who would sooner die than ask a social better for aid.
“I will make sure that I write to you,” Violet said, “although I doubt I will have much news to recount. You know as well as I how little change there is in Essex. Every day is much the same.”
“Not once you find your prince,” Liza said, her eyes brightening with excitement. “And you will. If anyone in this world deserves to fall in love, it is you.”
Violet’s heartbeat quickened at the thought. “We shall see.”
“Wewillsee,” Liza corrected.
“I do not even know his name,” Violet said. “I can hardly search all of England forSir Gawain.”
They linked arms and left the room together, their shoulders brushing. “That is true,” Liza insisted. “Nevertheless, I will help you find him. Besides, I am certain that he must be looking for you, too. With both of you searching, I am sure you will eventually meet one another. Then, you will have some company while I am away. I only regret that I will be unable to watch your courtship unfold.”
“How are you so certain that he is also looking for me?” Violet asked.
It had been a lovely dance, but perhaps, the mysterious Sir Gawain had not felt the same sensations she had. Maybe it had just been a pleasant interlude for him, a small dance and exchange of witty conversation. It had been somewhat presumptuous of her to assume that he felt precisely as she did, and besides, the gentleman had departed quickly and without warning.
Maybe he had feared that Violet would read more into the dance than was intended if he lingered longer. Perhaps he was a rake and had found a more beautiful woman while she was distracted.
Liza looked scandalized, and it took Violet a moment to remember that her friend was not privy to her thoughts. It was the idea that the young man might not be searching for Violet, which Liza found so unbelievable. “Must you even ask? I cannot imagine that any man who behaves the way yours did wouldnotbe looking for you! Why, he kissed you!”
“Not so loudly!” Violet said, heat rising to her cheeks. “I do not wish for everyone to know that he did. I should not have allowed it.”
“You should have,” Liza argued. “You spend so much time worrying about and caring for others. You deserve to indulge yourself on occasion.”
“I am not certainthatis the best way to indulge myself,” Violet said dryly.
She could not honestly say that she regretted the kiss, however, as that moment was one of the most wonderful of her life. Violet felt as if something deep inside her had changed, as if she had spent her entire life hoping—but not quite believing—that romance could exist for a woman like her, and that kiss was definitive proof that she could find romance in some form. Even if it was a temporary one, gone at midnight like the stars at dawn.
“It was the Harvest Dance. I assure you that there were couples who did much more inappropriate deeds that night,” Liza said, waving a dismissive hand.
Violet swallowed hard, thinking about how she would have liked to do one of those “more inappropriate deeds.”
“Besides, you were wearing a costume and a mask, Violet. I doubt most of the villagers even recognized you.”
That was true, but Violet also had auburn hair and violet eyes. She did not look like most of the women in the village. Perhaps that would be helpful, though. If Sir Gawain really was searching for her, he would not have to ask many in the village to learn who she was.
They reached the bottom of the stairs, and Liza pulled her friend into a quick, warm embrace. “Besides, when you wed him, and he sweeps you away to his castle in Cornwall, no one will care that you exchanged a kiss at the village’s Harvest Dance.”
“Now, he has a castle?” Violet asked, laughing. “I find that difficult to believe.”
The thought was delightful, though. She imagined a grand structure, isolated from the rest of the world, on a stormy cliff side. Violet and her new husband could spend their days and nights lost to the passions stirring within them.
“Well, you never know,” Liza said. “My prince happens to have a townhouse and a ship.”
Technically, Captain John did notownthe ship, but Violet understood the sentiment behind her friend’s words. “If he has a castle, I shall sketch it for you,” Violet said, “so you can tell me if it is of sufficient size.”
“Excellent.”
Violet glanced out the windows by the large double doors at the house’s entrance. Outside, she could see the black carriage, servants milling about as they loaded most of Liza’s things and her dowry. It was quickly approaching twilight. “I should be going,” Violet said.
“Must you?” Liza asked.
Violet nodded. “The hour grows late, and my father will be worried if I do not come home soon.”
It was also nearly time for Violet to aid her mother. Twice a day, she washed her mother’s face and hands, brushed her hair out, and gave her the medicine which the village apothecary dutifully mixed each week.
