Henry’s head tilted a little.
“Why not ask him?” she said, leaning against the wall. “Shall we have him for dinner? We ought to get to know him better, what with him being your heir and all.”
Henry looked at her. The line between his brows eased.
“Thursday,” he said. “I shall write to him myself.”
Chapter twenty-eight
Rue Seeds
Violet
“Cousin Edmund is coming to dinner tonight,” Violet mentioned casually while Sarah pinned her hair.
She watched Sarah in the mirror. The brush paused for half a second, then resumed. A flush crept up her neck although her face remained impassive.
“That will be pleasant,” her maid said. “Mr Vexley seems good natured.”
“He does, does he not? I believe Henry has not had family to dinner in some time.”
“No, he has not.”
Sarah set down the brush and began with the curling iron. Violet sat still and let herself be arranged. Just as her maid was putting on the finishing touches, a footman informed that Mr Vexley had arrived. She felt Sarah tense but couldn’t be certain if it was her imagination.
She heard Edmund’s laughter from the corridor as she made her way toward the drawing room. His voice was lighter andmelodious where Henry was reserved and clipped. He turned to look when she entered, his face opening with delight. “Your Grace. You look magnificent. Henry, you scoundrel, you do not deserve her.”
“No,” Henry said, “I do not.”
Dinner was announced, and Violet took her husband’s proffered arm. The contact did more to her body than it should have. They moved toward the dining room when she heard Sarah’s voice. “Your Grace.”
It was perfect timing. She turned to find Sarah with the Kashmir draped over her arm as Violet knew she would. Sarah held it out for her and as Violet turned to face the other way, she caught Edmund glancing in their direction. The sharpening attention told her that Edmund did recognise her maid. When she turned to study Sarah, her maid was staring at Edmund, her lips parted.
Edmund had looked away without much inflection, but Sarah’s ears had gone red.
“Thank you, Sarah,” Violet said, as a way of dismissal.
Sarah withdrew. Edmund followed her and Henry into the dining room and did not look back.
Henry sat at the head of the table with Violet and Edmund on either side. The pheasant was excellent, and the wine was good. Edmund talked about a horse he’d seen at Tattersalls and a farce at the Haymarket that had made him laugh until his ribs ached, and Henry listened. Violet ate and watched.
“It is high time you think about marrying,” Henry said over the game course. “You are distressing your mother.”
Edmund groaned and set down his fork. “And here I hoped I might escape my mother’s laments for one evening.”
“Your mother laments to me twice as often since she is under the illusion that I might be able to influence you as the head of the family.”
Edmund snorted a laugh. “I apologise, Cousin.” He dabbed his mouth not too elegantly with the serviette. He addressed Violet. “My apologies, Your Grace, but anyone sensible would consider you the worst choice for marriage advice or matchmaking.”
Violet looked at her husband with some wariness. To her relief, Henry was smiling. He then reached under the table and squeezed her knee.
“We both know that your mother is anything but sensible. However, all mothers must have an occupation. Yours included.”
“She should expect to be employed for a long time then. I enjoy my bachelor life. The freedom of it. I answer to no one, I eat when I please, and my private diversions are not called into question. I am perfectly content with my situation.”
“Perhaps that is the problem.” Henry picked up his wine glass. “You are living a life with no purpose. A man must have a purpose bigger than himself, Edmund. You need a woman who can keep you in line or you shall become a savage in your old age.”
Edmund leaned back in his chair and regarded both of them, shifting his attention from one to the other. “You are different from before. Marriage suits you.” He pinned Henry with a look. “You seem happy. I have not seen you this happy since,” he maintained the eye contact while thinking, “since the housekeeper forgot to close the lid on the biscuit jar.”