“I do not know,” Vi answered her father. The truth was, she’d been thinking so many things as she’d come face to face with Brock: Her morning, which had turned into afternoon, at the orphanage; her loss of Foldger’s Foals; and, ultimately, the forfeiture of herself all those years ago.
Before the carriage departed, both St. Augustin women entered. Ruby sat next to Vi, her mother next to Lord Liperton. Vi had been so consumed by Lord Haversham’s presence she hadn’t noticed Ruby’s mother in the crowded ballroom—not that she’d noticed anything once her gaze alighted on Brock.
“That truly was uncalled for, Vi,” Ruby chided her.
Lady Darlingiver’s parting words passed through her mind at that moment. I knew this was a mistake! My lord, I’ve put up with a lot from your daughter . . . but this? Her first social engagement back? Her use of his formal title told Vi the woman her father appeared to love was already distancing herself from her family—for a second time.
It hurt, but not nearly as much as it wounded her father, she was sure. Who would he choose this time? How many times would Vi make him select his daughter over everyone else?
He huffed on the seat across from her. “Do not think your sullen attitude and silence will make this go away, Viola,” her father warned.
She knew this would not go away—could not go away. The thought of repeating the actions she’d taken eight years ago repulsed her. She’d no intention of running again or letting the ton shun her a second time.
An arm came around her shoulders and rested comfortably on Vi’s shaking form. She had not realized she was crying, her body racked with silent sobs. She had attained what she’d traveled to London for. Although the confrontation had occurred at an unexpected time and place, it was done. The hurtful words that had spilled from her mouth were also unexpected.
Would he know her words to be untrue? She knew she could not leave town without him knowing she had not—even in her youth naiveté—planned the demise of either of his brothers. It was true she had not cared for either one of them; no tenderness passed through her at the thought of either twin. Alternatively, at the mere image of their elder brother, her body hummed with . . . she did not know what.
“We will leave town posthaste. Ruby, you are free to stay with your mother through the end of the season, if you would like,” her father continued.
“Father, I do not—” Her head shot up to meet his gaze.
“I do not want to hear another word from you.”
Ruby recoiled beside her at Vi’s father’s angry words. “If you do not mind, my lord, I prefer to travel with Vi back to the country.”
Viola nearly broke down in a fresh stream of tears at her friend’s loyalty—and after she’d ruined any chance of Ruby being a success in London. “That is unnec—”
“I agree with your father, Vi,” Ruby said. “I do not want to hear a word from you. I am coming and there is naught you can say about it.”
“Yes, perhaps you are both better suited to country life,” Mrs. St. Augustin muttered.
Vi did not bother following the conversation from there. The three discussed her future, her options, without even bothering to ask what she wanted. But truly, they were past being able to give her what she desired. She was past being able to verbalize what she wanted. She only hoped to gain back her father’s love and her friend’s trust—anything beyond that, she knew she didn’t deserve.
“You did not return to London to find a husband, did you?”
Those words, uttered from the defeated shell of her father, solidified her knowledge that she was about to embark on a long and hard road.