The Viscount Always Knocks Twice (Heart of Enquiry Book 4) Read Online Free PDF

yet thoughts of Carlisle assailed her in the week following the Yuletide ball. Never a sound sleeper, she tossed and turned more than usual at night. Her appetite was diminished. During her daily activities—lessons, shopping expeditions, even rides through the park—she found herself wrestling with her conscience.
    Was what happened my fault… when he was being such a boor?
    Her sense of fair play invariably won out. For no matter how arrogant and condescending Carlisle had been, he didn’t deserve the ridicule he now faced.
    Every gossip and tattle rag in Town seemed obsessed with his downfall. He’d become the butt of jokes—in fact “The Butt of a Joke” was the caption used over a caricature of the viscount sitting on his derriere in a fountain, knees splayed, being drenched by a torrent of champagne. Other similar cartoons included How to Make a Splash in Society and Pride Goeth Before a Fall . Worse yet, the lampoons depicted Carlisle as a scowling giant, his rough-hewn features viciously exaggerated.
    Every time Violet encountered the consequences of her impulsivity, her insides twisted. Act in haste, repent in leisure as Mama had been wont to say. She was ten when her mother died, and at times like this she missed the other more than ever. For Mama had been the one person who’d truly understood Vi’s nature; she’d never lost her patience or gotten exasperated with her middle child’s antics.
    Heavens, my girl, you’re like a pot about to boil over, Marjorie Kent would say with a warm twinkle in her eyes. Let’s put that steam to work, shall we?
    Then she’d send Violet off to do some chore. After weeding the garden or milking the family cow, Vi would always feel better.
    But Mama wasn’t here now, and Violet was so ashamed of what she’d done that she couldn’t bring herself to confide in her other family members. The thought of their reaction—the I-told-you-so looks and lectures, not to mention the increased chaperonage—bolstered her motivation to keep the matter under wraps. Which made her feel even guiltier.
    When Emma had asked about the telltale red champagne splattered on Vi’s skirts, Vi had mumbled some shoddy excuse, saying that she’d walked by the scene of the accident. Even though Em let the matter drop, Vi’s distress manifested itself in worse than usual distraction, which her sister and the others, not knowing the true cause, remarked upon with growing annoyance.
    Never a favored pupil amongst her tutors, she was even less focused than usual during her weekly lessons. She made poor Monsieur Le Roche tear at his wispy hair, and she feared he’d be bald before she learned to conjugate a French verb. She fared no better at her music lesson: Master Fromm had stormed out, declaring that he would have better luck teaching a pig to play the pianoforte.
    He was probably right… although she would have liked to have seen him attempt the latter. Just for novelty’s sake. With a private snicker, she’d wondered who would be more annoyed at the undertaking: Master Fromm or the swine?
    By week’s end, Violet’s natural equilibrium returned. Bit by bit, her guilt had eased; the gossip about Carlisle had begun to die down, replaced by some newer, juicier tidbit, and she told herself that what was done was done. She couldn’t undo her actions, and, thus, there was but one solution. She would offer Carlisle her most sincere apologies whenever they next met.
    And that, she concluded with a mental dusting of her hands, would be that.
    Her spirits were further lifted by a visit. She and her youngest sister Polly raced down the stairwell to greet their sister-in-law Marianne, niece Primrose, and Miss Billings, a family friend. Emma had refreshments served in the main salon, a room with a soaring ceiling and lush green furnishings. They all took seats around the coffee table and accepted cups of fragrant tea from Emma. Vi also helped herself to a plate of iced cakes from Gunter’s, her