Then he looked up and caught her watching him, and a faint smile touched his lips. Viola flushed warm all over her body. Oh yes, it had really happened. The Earl of Winterton had held her close and kissed her until she could hardly breathe.
He leaned forward. “Viola,” he whispered.
Blushing, she also leaned forward. “Yes?”
“I missed you at breakfast,” he said, almost inaudibly. “I never realized how much I looked forward to seeing you every morning until you weren’t there.”
She couldn’t stop herself from smiling. “I had work to do.” She motioned at the greenery.
“And then? Will you be free to walk out with me and see the sky again? I believe the snow is finally ending.”
Viola glanced at the tall windows. The sky was brighter today, but snow still fell. “Perhaps, but I must keep an eye on rehearsal.”
“Of course.” He picked up a branch and twirled it. “How does one make a garland?”
Her eyes widened in astonishment. “You want to make garlands?”
“I want to sit with you,” he said with a searing look. “And I am willing to make garlands to do so.”
Oh my. There was a tiny burst of joy in her chest, and her fingers shook as she showed him how to pull apart the branches and twine them around each other to form a long rope. The drawing room was full of people by now, leaving little chance of conversation without being overheard, so they worked in companionable silence. At one point Wes stretched out his legs beneath the table, and Viola lightly rested her slipper on top of his boot. His blue gaze shot to hers, and she almost melted at the hunger in them.
The day flew by. Viola was called away several times to supervise some aspect of costuming, for the play was to be in a few days. Wes had to go perform his scenes, which sent Viola into gales of silent laughter. A large tea was served midday, and the entire company gathered around the table to consume every crumb of it. Her heart swelled with happiness to see Alexandra laughing and whispering with her friend Kate Lacy, and she felt a rush of relief that Lord Newton seemed more interested in discussing horses with Lord Gosling than in flirting with anyone. All of the guests were in good spirits, and it felt like a sign from above that the party was a success after all.
By the time everyone retired to dress for dinner, Viola had woven a mile or more of garland. She looked at Wes, who was frowning over his much shorter garland, and grinned. “Well done, my lord.”
“I haven’t done anything worthy of that compliment today, ma’am.” He put his hands on the table and half rose from his chair. “Come here.”
Viola glanced nervously at the door, but everyone had left. She leaned toward Wes. He closed the distance and brushed his lips against hers. “That’s better,” he breathed. “Although I might not have done it well enough . . . Let me try again . . .” He kissed her once more, lightly and tenderly, and something inside Viola sang with joy.
Wes sat back, looking pleased with himself. “Much better. I’ve been waiting all day for that.”
Blushing and beaming, she laughed. “Ought you go prepare for dinner?”
He surveyed the greenery piled between them. “I am utterly worn out from all this garland making.”
“I hear there is to be dancing after dinner,” Viola remarked. “Miss Penworth has agreed to play.”
“Dancing!” His face lit. “I feel energized already. Will you dance with me, love?”
Her heart leapt for one wild moment before her brain reminded her to be cautious. “Perhaps. I must speak to the dowager.” He blinked, and she quickly explained. “To let her know how the party is proceeding.”
“Is her health improving?”
Viola nodded. “I hope she’ll be able to join the guests soon.” And take her place as hostess, which would be a vast relief.
He grinned. “I hope so as well. But . . .” He reached for her hand. “You didn’t answer my question.”
About dancing with him. She hesitated, but the temptation was too great. “Yes.”
This time his smile was sensuous and intimate. “That’s all I care to know.”
They went their separate ways. Viola spoke to the housekeeper about arranging the garland in the hall, then braced herself and went to the dowager’s apartment.
It went much better than expected. The dowager was vastly improved, even sitting in a chair by the fire today with a hot brick under her feet. “I have promised Bridget I will attend the play,” she told Viola. “Thank heaven I shall be able to.”
“I’m very pleased to hear it, ma’am,” said Viola fervently.
The dowager smiled. “Has Alexandra kept her word to behave today?”
“Perfectly, Your Grace.” She hesitated. “And so has Lord Newton. I believe his uncle spoke to him very strongly about what occurred.”
“Very good. Tell me about Lord Winterton.”
Caught off guard, Viola jumped. “What?”
“Bridget tells me he fancies you.” The dowager’s gaze was sharp. “Alexandra says you and the earl discovered her with young Newton, and that she didn’t believe that discovery happened because you were searching for her.”
Viola could only sit with her mouth open in shock.
The older woman leaned forward. “He’s a very eligible catch, and Sophronia tells me he’s not one of those society fribbles. Is he an honest fellow?”
“Y-yes,” she stammered.
“Do you, in my daughter’s words, ‘fancy him’?” Viola couldn’t speak. Her answer must have shown on her face, for the dowager sat back. “Remember you are a Cavendish, Viola. Demand that he treat you as such, or Wessex will have his head.”
Startled, Viola gaped. “You’re—I’m not—That is . . .”
“Am I upset you’ve caught a gentleman’s eye?” The dowager smiled. “No. I know Cleo values you immensely,
