Chapter Twenty-Five
Violet entered the breakfast room to find Rhys sitting comfortably at the table, munching on a piece of bacon as though this was his house and he hadn’t arrived through the window that morning.
He pushed back his chair, stood, and came around the table.
Taking her hand, he kissed the back of her fingers.
“Bacon is ready.” He led her to a chair next to his at the small round table.
Ever since Stuart’s death, she had been taking all her meals at this more intimate table.
Sitting alone in the large dining room had been too depressing.
A moment later, Hodgins arrived and held the door open as two footmen brought in trays laden with covered silver serving dishes. “Good morning, my lady.”
If she was meant to feel embarrassed to be sitting at the breakfast table with her lover—was Rhys her lover now?
Yes, after this morning, she certainly would call him that—she refused.
She was a widow. She was breaking no rules in God’s eyes.
Violet straightened her shoulders. This was her household, and she could have whatever guests she chose.
She picked up a piece of bacon off the tray and bit into it viciously.
As the footmen began taking the covers off the dishes, the aroma of smoked fish hit her nose, and she gagged. Her stomach roiled at the smell of kippers. Rhys reached over and grabbed the tray, shoving it into the startled footman’s hands. “Get rid of this. Fish makes her ill now.”
The footman looked to Hodgins, who waved his hand in the direction of the door. “I’m sorry, my lady. I did not realize that you no longer like fish.”
Violet took a careful breath in and found her voice. “It’s more that the baby doesn’t care for fish.” The smell lingered, and she raised her linen napkin to cover her nose and mouth.
Rhys poured her a cup of tea from the pot in the middle of the table. He spooned several helpings of sugar into it and stirred briskly, the spoon clinking madly against the sides. “Here, take a good whiff of this,” he offered.
She set down her napkin and accepted the teacup he pressed into her hands. The delicate smell of orange blossom and bergamot settled her. She took a small sip. Perfect. “Thank you.”
Next, Rhys took a piece of toast and slathered it with butter and then jam. He held it out for her. “Eat this. It’s raspberry jam.” He piled several pieces of bacon onto her plate. “Where are the lemon biscuits? I was told you had them?”
Hodgins pulled the cover off another plate. “Right here, Mr. Seaton.”
“Ah, good man.” Rhys transferred two to her plate as well. Then he proceeded to fill his own plate with eggs, sausage, and toast.
Violet bit into her toast, savoring the sweet but slightly tart flavor of the jam. She exchanged a glance with Hodgins, who looked quite flummoxed by Rhys’s command of the breakfast table. “Thank you, Hodgins. I think we will be fine by ourselves.”
“As you wish, my lady.” Hodgins bowed, gestured for the other footman to follow him, and then they quit the room.
She chuckled around another bite of toast. “I don’t know what shocked him more. When you shoved the tray of kippers at poor Paul, or the aggressive stirring of my tea.”
Rhys ran a hand through his hair with a rueful smile. “I don’t possess any fine manners. But I do know how to take care of my girl.”
Violet basked in the warmth of his gaze. “Yes, you certainly do.”
*
“So, what exactly are we shopping for today?” Violet asked Rhys as they approached the large warehouse that he had explained housed the inventory for the auction house. She had her hand tucked into the crook of his arm, and his hand lay warm and possessive on top of hers.
He shrugged as he reached for the door and pulled it open. “I don’t know. What do you think I need?”
“Rhys, you have no furniture outside your bedroom, save the dining table and your piano. So I’m going to say we could start with a settee and some chairs.
” The warehouse was cool and dimly lit, with only light from big windows along the upper floor.
A walkway circled the second floor and looked down to the main level.
In front of them lay a maze of furniture of all types.
To her right, stacks of paintings leaned against a long wall. “Where do we start?” she asked.
“Zeke,” Rhys bellowed.
The man in question appeared at the railing on the second floor.
“Yes, boss?” He smiled down at them. “Didn’t expect to see you here today.
And you brought your friend. Good afternoon, Lady Sommerset.
” He held up a finger and then disappeared, only to reappear a few minutes later from the back of the cavernous room. “What can I do you for?”
“We are here to shop for furniture. For my place,” Rhys replied.
Zeke’s dark eyebrows rose all the way up. “Your place?”
“Yes, my place. Don’t look so bloody surprised. I took the dining table, didn’t I?”
“Yes, but you refused the chairs.” Zeke’s eyes slid to look over at her. “So, what are you thinking?”
“I think he could use some seating for the main floor. Perhaps a rug or two?”
“Hmmm, let’s go this way. I have a few options down here.” Zeke headed down to the left.
They passed by shelves that held chandeliers of all shapes and sizes.
Violet flicked a finger at a dangling crystal as they passed by.
Behind the shelves of smaller household items, they came to a row of chairs of various types.
Some were clearly dining chairs, some ladderback wooden chairs, simple in design but sturdy looking.
“Mr. Seaton, what is your style preference?”
Zeke snorted.
Rhys glared at him before turning back to her. “I guess I would say I don’t have one. I mean, furniture is for sitting on, right?”
Violet grabbed his hand and tugged him over to a pair of chairs embroidered with an intricate floral pattern. “Look at these…what is your opinion?”
Rhys frowned. “Do you like them?”
“The question is, do you like them?”
He shook his head.
“Too feminine with the embroidery, I think.” She continued to tug him along.
“See, I like things that have texture—soft velvets or carved wood in interesting patterns.” She spotted another set of drawing room chairs.
These were upholstered in a sky-blue damask silk and trimmed in beautifully carved mahogany.
She ran her fingers across the whorls and rosettes of polished wood, smooth under her touch.
Then she sat down. The curved shape cradled her back perfectly. “Lovely,” she murmured.
“I like them,” Rhys said. “Blue was my mother’s favorite color.”
Violet glanced over at Zeke. “Please tell me there is a matching settee?”
He nodded. “This way.” Taking another turn, he led them down the next aisle, which stored larger pieces of furniture—settees, sofas, and even a few chaises.
“Why don’t you keep the sets together?” she asked.
“When I bring them to the showroom during auction, I do present them as sets. But here in the warehouse, I like to keep things organized by category,” Zeke replied.
Violet nodded. She began to see that what initially looked like a disorganized hodgepodge was, in reality, carefully organized into categories.
They were in the drawing room furniture section, but close by, she could see a section of dining tables and next to it, dining chairs.
She wandered down the aisle, and that’s when she spotted the chaise.
Richly upholstered in deep royal purple, the curved backrest was tufted with smooth gold buttons, and the edges were trimmed in gold braid.
Violet grinned and walked over to it, unable to keep from running a hand across the soft pile of the velvet.
“You have a good eye,” Zeke said. “It’s French. It is said to have come from the Palace of Versailles.”
Rhys came up behind her and laid his hands on her shoulders. “Do you like it? Try it out.”
She sat down, then scooted back to lean against the backrest with a contented sigh. She ran her fingers along the gold braid, enjoying the softness of the silk thread. “I could see this being fit for a queen.”
Rhys turned to Zeke. “Have it sent to Lady Sommerset’s house. A gift from me.”
“No, it would be perfect for your house. I can recline on it while you play the piano for me.”
Rhys stared down at her for a long moment. Then he nodded.
Zeke cleared his throat. “Well, I think I will let the two of you look around. Just let me know which items you want, boss. I can get the boys to bring everything over tomorrow.”
She couldn’t remember having spent a more pleasant afternoon in a long time.
Then, all week long, Rhys had arrived at her house every afternoon.
They went for walks in Hyde Park, and one day he took her to that same coffee shop in Covent Garden they had been to before.
Thursday morning, they went to Hartwick House to visit the new family.
They kept their visit brief, but those few moments when she had gotten to cradle baby Julia had been precious.
As perfect as the week had been, not once had she woken up to Rhys sitting in her bedroom watching her sleep.
And aside from a few scorching kisses, he hadn’t touched her other than holding her hand.
He hadn’t even invited her over to see how the chaise lounge she’d chosen looked in his front room.
Perhaps he was busy with work? He had told her that he didn’t keep regular hours.
Sometimes, he worked the auctions, usually held in the late afternoons, and he routinely walked through the neighborhood, checking on his rental properties.
Violet got the sense there was quite a bit more to his various businesses that he hadn’t told her about.
But she couldn’t help but feel as though he simply used his erratic schedule as a way to avoid being alone with her.
Before the morning when he had pleasured her so thoroughly, he had shown up at all hours to see her.