Chapter 24 #3
Adelaide stepped between them before he could say more. It was not a graceful movement, but deliberate. Violet disappeared partly behind her shoulder.
“Perhaps,” Adelaide said, “you have lived so long among people unwilling to contradict you that the word no has become unfamiliar.”
Atlas’s smile thinned. “That is quite an accusation.”
“It is an observation.”
He looked past Adelaide toward Violet. “She interests me.”
“That is irrelevant.”
“I was paying her a compliment.”
Violet flinched and Adelaide noticed. “What compliment?”
Atlas sighed as though the question bored him. “I merely said she reminded me of someone.”
Adelaide went still. Behind her, Violet’s breath caught. Atlas seemed not to notice. “Someone I knew years ago,” he continued. “A pretty little thing. Difficult, but entertaining when she wished to be.”
The expression on Violet’s face changed so quickly Adelaide barely understood what she was seeing. Terror.
And Atlas chuckled softly. “The resemblance is amusing, that is all. I thought perhaps your maid might prove equally spirited once persuaded out of this dreary little shell of hers.”
Violet whispered, “Please stop.”
Adelaide’s anger turned cold. “You will leave.”
Atlas’s eyes returned to her. “Adelaide—”
“Your Grace.”
The correction landed where she wished it to, and his jaw tightened.
“You will address me properly while standing in my home after cornering a woman in my service who has repeatedly asked you to leave her alone.”
He gave a short laugh without humor. “Eric has certainly married a reformer.”
“Eric married a woman capable of recognizing when a gentleman has forgotten how one behaves.”
Atlas’s face lost its warmth for perhaps half a second. “I meant no offense.”
“Intent has become a very convenient refuge for men who dislike consequences.”
“You think me a villain because I spoke to a maid?”
“No. I think less of you because she told you to stop and you decided your amusement mattered more.”
Silence stretched between them. Atlas glanced once more toward Violet. This time, his gaze lingered with curiosity.
Violet shrank further behind Adelaide, and Atlas frowned slightly. “You truly are familiar.”
Adelaide stepped sideways, cutting off his view. “That is enough.”
He looked at her, and for a moment she wondered whether he would argue, but he just smiled again and bowed slightly. “Of course. My apologies, Your Grace.”
Adelaide did not answer.
Atlas turned and walked away, his boots striking softly against the polished floor until the sound disappeared around the corner.
Only then did Adelaide turn.
Violet’s face was white. The folded linens slipped from her hands and fell to the floor. “Violet.”
Adelaide reached for her, but she recoiled so violently that Adelaide stopped at once.
“It is me.”
“I know—” Her voice broke. “I know.”
Adelaide lowered herself slowly until they were nearly eye level. “You are safe.”
Violet pressed one hand over her mouth. And her shoulders had begun shaking. Adelaide had seen her cry, but these tears were born of something she had not seen in Violet before.
“Did he hurt you?”
Violet shook her head quickly. “No.”
“Did he touch you?”
“No.”
“Then tell me what happened.”
“I cannot.”
“You can.”
“No.”
Her knees seemed to weaken. Adelaide caught her this time, and Violet did not resist. Together they sank onto the narrow bench beneath the window.
For several moments Violet could do nothing but breathe. Adelaide held her hand and waited. She had intended to question her today, but that thought now seemed cruel.
The theory, the portrait, the curls, the strange omissions in Violet’s history—all of it receded beneath the much simpler truth sitting beside her.
Her friend was terrified of Atlas.
“Violet,” Adelaide said gently, “you know him.”
The shaking stopped, and Violet stared at the floor. Adelaide felt the answer before she heard it. “You knew him before coming to Wolverton.”
No response.
“The wealthy marriage.”
Violet’s fingers closed around hers.
“The one you refused.”
Still nothing.
Adelaide’s heart began pounding. “The man you were supposed to marry…”
Violet squeezed her eyes shut, and Adelaide whispered, “Was it Atlas?”
A broken sound escaped her which was answer enough, and Adelaide sat frozen.
Everything had rearranged itself at once. The portrait flashed across her vision. “Who are you?”
Violet began to cry again. “I am sorry.”
“For what?”
“For all of it.” Adelaide could barely hear her. “I should have told you.”
“Told me what?”
“I did not think…” Violet pressed both hands against her face. “I never thought I would come back here.”
Adelaide’s skin went cold. “Back?”
Violet nodded. “This house.”
“No,” Adelaide whispered.
Violet looked at her. Adelaide shook her head before the thought could finish forming. “No.”
“I am sorry.”
“She died.”
Violet’s face crumpled. “No.”
Adelaide stared at her. The words no longer seemed to belong to the room.
“You were right.” Violet held her gaze through tears. “My name is not Violet Hale.”
Adelaide could not speak. The woman beside her drew one shaking breath. “My name is Olivia Sullyard.”
Adelaide stared, mouth agape, and Olivia closed her eyes. “I am Eric’s sister.”