LITMIR.BIZ

       CHAPTER FIVE

      “I’M CONVINCING YOUR mother as to our reconciliation.” James kissed that delicious juncture of neck and shoulder. Her scent—an arousing mix of jasmine and spice—wrapped around him and it was all he could do not to pull her tighter against him. “As she is one of the most notorious gossips in London, it seemed an excellent idea.”

      “Well, she’s gone now.” Violet pushed out of his arms. “You can stop that.”

      He grinned. “I rather enjoyed it.”

      “You would.”

      Given the charming flush on her cheeks and the look in her eyes, so did she, although she’d never admit it. Still, it was interesting. His grin widened.

      “Nonetheless, it was entirely inappropriate. This is a farce, James. Nothing more. You do need to remember that.” Her voice was firm even if there was the tiniest breathless quality to it. That too was interesting.

      “Did you say that just to annoy your mother?”

      “Probably.” Her brows drew together in confusion. “Say what?”

      “That you and I had reconciled. That after all these years we share a mad, passionate love.”

      “Surely I didn’t say anything of the sort.” A blush washed up her face. Oh, he liked that. “Did I?”

      “Your words exactly.”

      “One says all sort of things when one fails to give due consideration to one’s words.” She blew a long breath. “Yes, I suppose I did say some of it to annoy her. But really, what one says in the heat of—”

      “Passion?”

      “Annoyance cannot be taken as irrefutable.” She cast him a questioning look. “So you remember my mother?”

      “She continues to haunt my dreams.” He shivered. James would never forget how adamant Lady Cranton had been that they marry. How angry she’d been at him—justifiably—but how angry she’d been at Violet, as well. It wasn’t at all fair. As if any of this had been Violet’s fault.

      “There is nothing my mother finds more scandalous or improper than mad, passionate love.”

      “Actually, I was wondering about the rest of it.” He adopted a casual tone. “About staying in London. With your husband.” He held his breath. “Did you say that part to annoy her, as well?”

      “No. I had already come to that decision.” She squared her shoulders. “I like my life, James. Three years seems a small enough price to pay for my independence and my freedom.”

      “So you’ll do it for the money?” he said slowly. Relief mixed with a tinge of disappointment. Surely he couldn’t expect her to do it for any other reason. Still...it had been a long night and he’d done a great deal of thinking. All about her. Or rather, about them. Although he’d never not thought about her in one way or another through the years.

      In the beginning, he’d gone on with his life as if he’d never married at all. In truth, his drinking, carousing and meaningless encounters with women had increased after Violet left. James blamed it on guilt. It was easy to forget what a cad be was, how he had ruined her life, if he was inebriated or had an anonymous woman in his bed. After he passed the second anniversary of his marriage, the appeal of raucous behavior, random women and drunken stupors began to fade. It was around that time too that Uncle Richard had been struck by a violent but blessedly brief illness and James had begun learning what was required to follow in his uncle’s footsteps. Upon later reflection, he acknowledged that was the true beginning of adulthood.

      Violet raised a shoulder in a casual shrug as if money was as good a reason as any.

      His brow rose. “You needn’t act as if you were doing me a great favor.”

      “Oh, but I am doing you a great favor.”

      “You have as much to lose as I do.”

      She met his gaze directly. “No, I don’t.”

      “Oh?”

      She hesitated then shrugged. “It’s not important at the moment.” She turned and headed toward the stairs.

      “It sounded important.” He strode after her.

      “I’m not going to discuss this now.” She reached the grand stairway and started up. “But I’m not agreeing to this because I have no other choice.”

      “Yes, I’ve heard about your choices,” he called after her.

      Violet Branham, Lady Ellsworth, his wife, might not be aware of it but there had been nearly as much gossip about her over the past six years as there had been about him. He knew the truth about his behavior, but he had no idea if the stories he’d heard about her were accurate. Of course, some came from Duncan, Viscount Welles, who had mentioned running into Violet somewhere in Europe in recent years. Welles was an old friend, one of the very men who had issued the ill-fated challenge to kiss his fiancée on that night six years ago. Even so, the information was not firsthand. Regardless, what James heard about Violet’s behavior had grown increasingly bothersome as his own conduct had become more respectable.

      “My choices?” She swiveled on the stairs and glared down at him. “What do you mean by that?”

      “Never mind.” He waved off her question. Discussing this now was a mistake. After all, they had three years ahead of them. “It doesn’t matter.”

      “I suspect it does matter,” she snapped.

      Apparently, she was not going to let the

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