A Fine Line (Being Rewritten into The Pursuit of a King)

Hysteria

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Violet wiped the traitorous evidence of emotion from her cheeks and steeled herself for her re-entrance into the ballroom. She knew now that she would have to face the questioning and judgemental gazes of her peers. She mentally thanked the Lord in heaven for the fact that only Amelia had come across her and Henry.

If it had been anyone else she would have been rendered a social pariah, a fallen woman and never acknowledged by anyone of the gentry class again.

William was in that room and she felt a twinge of apprehension at the thought of having to face her husband. She smoothed her hair down, combing it through her fingers and ensuring it still shone. She bit her lips, reddening them and pinched her cheeks. Violet had to ensure all evidence of her previous indiscretion was completely erased.

Even though this evening had not gone in any way in which she wanted it to, she would not flee like a frightened child. She was stronger than anyone would ever give her credit for and would hold her head up high for the rest of it. Inwardly she wished only for this damned ball to be over so she could retire to blessed sleep.

Holding her breath as she crossed over the threshold, she was pleased to discover that she was not as scrutinised by the other guests as she thought. Perhaps the majority had not even noticed her momentary absence. Small whispers and rumours were easy to control and easily forgotten.

Not being able to resist, she surveyed the crowd and spotted Henry who was halfway through a goblet of wine. She felt the keen sting of shame and felt her cheeks colour. The thought of what she had done made her feel physically ill and she subconsciously searched for William as though speaking to him would absolve her of her sins.

“Are you searching for William?” a voice from beside her caused Violet to momentarily start. She turned to see the Viscount Rowan York of Urich glowering at her.

Violet thought that perhaps this night could not possibly be any worse, yet with York’s presence it somehow already had become so.

“No. I am merely admiring the decorations”

York had been a potential suitor for Violet during her extremely brief season of freedom. Since she had married William he had seemingly grown to loathe her, partially because of her rejection and partially due to her indifference towards his good friend.

“Perhaps you are searching for another…perhaps the Prince” his voice was cold and without humour. Violet stiffened in indignation.

“I do not know what you mean to imply my Lord, but I do not appreciate your tone…if you will excuse me…”

“Is there an aim to this game you are playing Violet?” Rowan hissed seizing her arm before she could escape. She maintained her tight smile, all the while resisting the urge to turn and slap the man in the face.

“Unhand me sir,” she warned, glaring back at him.

Rowan was about to form an indignant response when a shriek and commotion drew his attention to the front of the room.

***

William’s eyes were trained on Violet as she re-entered the ballroom. When he saw her re-appear he struggled to maintain his composure. Overwhelming rage bubbled inside him as he watched her effortlessly exuding more elegance than any other woman in the room.

His feelings confused him; he knew the greater part of his anger was due to his acute humiliation, yet another part of him was hurt at Violet’s betrayal. This was ridiculous he scolded himself. The reason he was so vexed was simply due to the ridiculous behaviour of the harlot who shared his name, nothing more.