Chapter 32
It was only the desire to see for herself that Noah was doing all right that prompted Violet to appear at breakfast the following morning. If not for her concern over him, she would have had the meal sent to her room. She probably would have stayed in her room all day. It felt safer right now.
She didn’t know quite what she was so afraid of, though. Certainly, it was not the idea of being kissed again. That thought was appealing. If she had thought it was going to happen, she didn’t think she would have been able to make choices to prevent it.
But it wouldn’t happen, of course, not after the way she had received last night’s kiss. He would have realized that it was a terrible idea, even if he hadn’t been certain of that at first. He would never want to kiss her again.
No, what was really troubling Violet, she realized, was the thought of how awkward things were going to be between herself and Jonathan.
She had no idea what she would say to him when she saw him.
How were you supposed to communicate with a man after you’d kissed him?
Would they acknowledge what had happened?
Or would he try to pretend that nothing had happened between them at all?
She knew that if he did want to pretend that, she would go along with it.
As it turned out, there was no need to make the decision, because Noah was already at the breakfast table when Violet arrived.
There was no possibility they could talk about the kiss in front of him—it would be harmful if he knew about it—so she took her seat without so much as a glance in Jonathan’s direction.
She had never been more aware of him, though.
It was as if he was touching her, so present was he in her mind.
She actually felt the moment he looked up and took her in, as if his gaze was his hand running over her body, and she had to force herself not to shiver.
It was deliciously pleasurable, intimate, to be noticed like this, and the mere fact of ignoring him felt attentive in its own right.
She turned to Noah and smiled. “It’s so good to see you feeling better,” she said. “Your plate is very full.” It was true. He had piled on a mountain of eggs.
He smiled at her. “I’m hungry!” he said. “I feel like I haven’t eaten in a year.”
“That’s probably because of your fever,” she said. “You didn’t eat at all yesterday, and you used a lot of energy fighting off that illness.”
“Was I very sick?” His eyes were saucers. “Did I almost die?” There was an excitement in the question, as though almost dying was the most thrilling thing he could imagine.
It made Violet feel as if a rock had settled in her stomach.
Jonathan spoke up. “You didn’t almost die,” he told Noah gruffly. “You were very sick, but you wouldn’t have died. You did give Violet a scare, though.”
Noah looked down guiltily. “I didn’t mean to.”
“I know that,” Violet assured him, smiling. “I’m just glad to see that you’re feeling better, Noah.”
“I feel great,” Noah said. “Can we have a picnic today?”
“I think today we should stay home and rest up,” Violet said.
Noah pouted. “But I’m very rested. I don’t feel tired at all.”
“Well, I do,” she said firmly. “Today will be a rest day, and maybe tomorrow we can talk about a picnic.”
“Oh…all right.” He slumped a little in his chair, but only for a moment. Then he picked up his fork and began to eat again.
Jonathan cleared his throat. “Violet,” he said. “I’ve been thinking.”
Was this going to be about the kiss? Her head darted up. Surely he wasn’t going to try to discuss that right in front of Noah…was he?
Jonathan set his own fork down. “You and I have been in conflict over this house,” he said. “And I don’t think it needs to be that way. I think we both have our reasons for wanting to be here, and…well, it hasn’t posed that much of a problem.”
Was he joking, saying that? Trying to sort out who should have the house was a massive problem for both of them. He couldn’t mean to suggest otherwise.
He took a sip of his drink and went on. “We’ve lived together so peacefully that I don’t see why it should be necessary for you to leave,” he said.
“I know what it means to you to be here, and what Noah means to you, and those are not things I have any desire to take away or to interfere with. So I just want you to know that as far as I'm concerned, you’re welcome to stay, no matter what happens. I’m happy to have you here.
You can continue living in your room, and we can tend to Noah together.
And that should solve everything. Don’t you agree? ”
Violet looked up.
He was smiling at her. Eager. Excited. He was pleased with himself. He thought he had given her a wonderful gift.
Anger swept over her.
He kissed her—and then he said this to her? Was this what he believed she wanted to hear, truly?
She struggled to regulate her tone as she responded. “You’re saying that when the house becomes yours, you won’t ask me to leave and go live somewhere else.”
He hadn’t picked up on the way her mood had turned. He was still smiling. “Wouldn’t that be best?” he asked. “Wouldn’t that solve everything for both of us? I think it would.”
“You’re saying,” she said, “that because the house is definitely going to be yours, you’ll do me the kindness of permitting me to stay.”
Now he understood. His face fell ever so slightly. “Violet…”
She held up a hand. “Because even though this place was left to me, and even though it’s my home by rights, you can’t imagine another outcome than for it to come to you.
Is that it? You’ve thought all this time that really it was going to be yours, and it was just a matter of getting me out.
And last night, when you said that telling me that story wasn’t your way of trying to manipulate me out of the house, all you really meant was that you had decided you were willing to allow me to stay here.
That it didn’t matter to you whether I left or not. ”
Noah had put his fork down again and was watching her closely, which made Violet feel bad about losing her cool.
But even so…how could this be what he was offering now?
Was this the way he’d been thinking about things the whole time?
Had it always been nothing more than a matter of waiting around for her to be told she had to leave?
And what if he was right? What if the house had always been his?
How strange and rare was it for a lady to inherit property at all?
It had always been a fantasy, maybe, something Aunt Margaret would have liked to provide, but something that had never been a real possibility.
Maybe Violet had been ridiculous to believe in it in the first place.
Maybe.
But she wasn’t going to take pity. Not from him.
Not now. It was the worst possible way to follow things up after that kiss last night, the worst thing he could have done.
That he felt sorry for her, that he thought he needed to go out of his way to do her some kindness… the very idea made her stomach churn.
Noah looked at her and then back at Jonathan. He had sensed the way the mood had turned, she could tell, and he wanted to know what was wrong—he wanted to help. But he couldn’t follow what had happened, and Violet didn’t want to clue him into it. He shouldn’t have to know.
She rose to her feet. “I’ll excuse myself,” she said. “Noah, when you’re finished with breakfast, return to your room, please. I want you to rest for the remainder of the morning.”
It was telling, perhaps, that Noah did not even attempt an argument. He nodded and picked his fork up once more, clearly ready to do as he had been bidden if only to avoid any further discomfort.
Violet left the room as quickly as she could without actually running.
She couldn’t bear to spend one more moment in the presence of the man who had kissed her—the man she had believed, mere hours ago, that she was starting to have real feelings for.
But now he was suggesting she live in his house, as what, a caretaker to Noah?
If he had any romantic feelings for her, he would have said that before just asking her to live in his spare room.
Every time she thought she understood who he was, he proved her wrong, and she didn’t want to risk it happening even one more time.
She couldn’t take it anymore.
This house is going to be mine. It was left to me. Just because his mother made a painting of it once upon a time, that doesn’t cause anything to change—and I’m not going to allow him to make me soften or forget the fact that this place is supposed to belong to me.
I will not let him take away my home.