Chapter 11
Alexander received a hand-delivered letter from Violet the next day.
He had barely slept, poring over books from his library on the subject of etiquette and the structure of English noble society.
He wanted to make the most of the time she was giving to him, to be able to deliver an impressive speech in the Lords the next day.
A note from Sebastian had followed, however, stating that he had been able to get another motion onto the agenda before the reading of the amendments.
It would give them breathing room to the tune of another week.
That had Alexander punching the air within the austere surroundings of his library, barefoot as was his preference with books strewn about him.
It had been at that moment that his eyes strayed to the light pouring in through the window.
Clocks had been something he did not have much experience with, nor a huge amount of confidence in deciphering.
He, therefore, did without them in his house, though he knew his servants kept them.
Alexander had learned to judge the time by the sun while living as an urchin on the streets of Glasgow.
When the shadow of Nelson’s Monument was pointing to the west, it was morning, and when it reached towards the cathedral, it was about midday.
There were other signs but that was always a good one if you happened to be about the Green.
In London, he was not so familiar with the landmarks, but in his own house, he could tell what time of day it was by the light coming through the windows.
Now, he leaped to his feet, eyes darting to the letter from Violet which still lay on the table.
And its promised appointment at midday. Now.
Almost as though it was on cue, he heard the rapping of the door knocker.
It echoed through the sparsely furnished house, reverberating from bare wooden floors and plastered walls.
There was little in his Brompton Row house that would soften the sound.
Looking around frantically for his shoes and socks, he remembered they had been discarded in the sitting room.
What kind of person needs so many blasted rooms to live in! This house is like a maze!
He wrenched open the door of the library and made to dash across the hallway, beyond to the sitting room.
But at that point, the front door was opened by the single groom he employed.
Lady Violet looked in and smiled broadly when she saw him.
He stopped where he was, feeling like a naughty schoolboy.
The thought briefly occurred to wonder if his shirt was properly tucked in or not.
“Good afternoon, Your Grace,” Violet said politely.
The servant stepped aside to allow her entry.
“I think I have given permission for my given name to be used,” Alexander said, smiling and trying to hide his embarrassment behind bravado.
Violet’s eyes flicked to the servant and back so quickly that Alexander wondered if he had even seen the movement or merely imagined it.
“I think it would be proper to observe the usual forms in public,” Violet said.
Alexander reached her and took her hand, bowing over it and kissing it.
In return, she gave a graceful curtsy. Alexander dismissed the servant who closed the door.
Offering his arm, Alexander escorted Violet to the sitting room.
As they walked he wondered if that room was more presentable than the book-strewn library.
Yes, of course it is. My servants know their job, though there aren’t many of them.
“How long have you lived here, Your Grace?” Violet asked.
Alexander looked at her. The servant had left the room but she seemed determined to maintain the facade.
“I took the house three years ago. There was no London property as part of the Lorchester Estate so I rent this place to be near to Parliament.”
“Three years?” Violet said, looking around. “Forgive me, it seems a little…bare?”
They entered the sitting room. A fire had been laid and there was a chaise that Alexander had never used and an armchair.
Apart from a sideboard by the door and a nest of tables in a corner, there was no other furniture.
A tall bookcase stood against the wall opposite a bay window that looked out across Brompton Row.
“Yes, I suppose it does seem that way. I have been more interested in books than furniture since moving to London. The library at Lorchester is extensive. It was the pursuit of books that first brought me to the city.”
“Not the House of Lords?” Violet asked.
Alexander indicated that she should take the chaise. He spotted his stockings and one boot beneath the chaise. The other boot was standing incongruously on the hearth. He decided to brazen it out.
I’ll no go scurrying about like a wain feart of a skelping from his mammy.
The thought made him chuckle, not only at the image but at the sudden idea that if he were to speak the thought aloud, Violet would probably not be able to make head nor tail out of it. Still, a naughty child being whipped by his mother was a universal image, so perhaps she would puzzle it out.
“Was there something funny, Your Grace?” Violet asked as Alexander took a seat.
“Just a thought. Will you please call me Alexander now that we are alone?” he said, putting a plaintive tone into his voice.
Violet blushed, turning away as though to look about the room, but clearly trying to disguise the color rising in her cheeks.
“Yes, of course. That would be appropriate provided we are not overheard. It does not do to have your household staff observing informality.”
The color abruptly deepened in her cheeks. It made her pale blue eyes stand out remarkably. She cleared her throat as though she had just had a thought of her own on the subject. Alexander wondered what she could be thinking of or possibly remembering that would cause such a reaction.
“Very well. I can see the sense of that lassie.”
“Lady Violet. Or, Violet when we are alone,” Violet corrected.
“Of course.” Alexander nodded.
“I will not mention greeting a visitor in bare feet. It is your home after all,” she continued.
“But as a Duke, you have the easiest of rules to observe. You will be among the highest ranking in just about any company except for royalty. Therefore, you will only be required to address in terms of my lord or my lady. It is for others to remember how to address you, differently to the way they would address others of lesser rank.”
Alexander nodded. “I had wondered. The books I’ve read do not cover how a man of superior rank should address someone of lower. It seems to be assumed that it is already known.”
“I do not think we should go too far down the road of terms of address just yet. I would like to address a more pressing concern. Your…posture.”
Alexander arched an eyebrow and allowed himself to slouch in his seat, propping one foot up on his knee. It was a rebellious streak, an instinct to deviate from instruction when confronted. Violet tried in vain to suppress a giggle at his open rebellion. Alexander joined her, sitting up straight.
“Forgive me. My posture. I am open to criticism.”
“If we may stand?” Violet said.
Alexander stood and Violet approached him.
She placed a hand on his stomach which he found himself clenching moments before her touch.
At that point he became more aware of that point of contact between them than anything else in the room.
The other hand touched the back of his shoulders.
She moved her hands to arrange him into a posture in which his shoulders were pushed back and out. It felt very unnatural.
“This is how a gentleman should stand. With hands either clasped behind his back or one hand behind the back, the other holding a cane or a pair of gloves.”
“Would I not be wearin’ the gloves?” Alexander asked.
He was conscious of how close she was standing. Her perfume was light and flowery, with every breath his head swam with delicate femininity. Her eyes were the most vivid blue, her skin perfect and pale. She was the epitome of gentle womanhood.
“If it is cold. If it is not, you would carry them. It gives you something to do with an idle hand as you are walking. And gives an air of dignity,” Violet answered. “Now, let me see your gait.”
Alexander laughed. “I’m not a horse, lassie…sorry, Violet.”
He strode across the room away from her and then back.
She asked him to walk again and this time followed, holding back his shoulders, and lifting his chin.
The feel of her cool skin under his chin was almost maddening.
He had rarely been in such proximity to a woman who was not already a lover.
But she was so perfect, he could not imagine her in that position, though he desired it deeply.
As the light from the window faded and the shadows within the room deepened, Alexander listened attentively to the instructions Violet gave him.
He walked and stood, practiced sitting and standing up.
She taught him how to greet a Lady entering the room and how to bid her farewell, instructing him not so much on his language and diction as the words spoken by his body, stance, and posture.
It was a revelation to him and he obeyed every instruction with the eagerness of a schoolboy.
“I feel I am already halfway there!” he exclaimed after successfully running through the lessons they had covered so far. “I am beginning to feel like a…a genteel member of the Ton.”
“And you look like one. You move like one,” Violet said, equally as enthusiastic, clapping her hands. “I am pleased with your progress. You are a fast learner.”
Alexander took her hands in his, kissing them. “Thank you for giving me this opportunity,” he said, fighting hard to maintain the expected English diction. “You have no idea what this means to me.”
She smiled up at him as he held her fingers to his lips. They were mere inches apart and Alexander had never wanted to kiss a woman more in his life. He lowered his head and kissed her on the lips. Violet pulled away, her hand going to her mouth.
You bloody fool! How can you expect her to trust you now…
Then she rushed back to him, stood on tiptoes, and pressed her lips against his.