dreary little nursery parlour for the rest of my days, growing sour and grey. I want a life, and a husband, and maybe children of my own. I don’t see what harm it does for me to stand beneath a tree on Christmas Eve and wish for that.”
“You should have considered all those things before you chose to go canoodling with two men.”
“I didn’t,” she protested, coming to a standstill. Tom plodded on without her, so that she was forced to slip and slide in order to catch up. “I’ve told you a thousand times. All I did was attempt to get out of Sarah Walsingham’s way. The wretched woman had already stood on my train, snatched a feather from my hair and spilled punch down my front. A further encounter would likely have resulted in serious injury.”
“She’s Lady Oglvive now, Vi. And really, when are you going to stop pretending and own up to your actions. You were seen by a whole roomful of people, and with two men no less, as if being debauched by one weren’t scandalous enough.”
If what she’d experienced was genuine debauchment, then it wasn’t nearly as interesting as the rumours made it sound. It seemed to her that ravishment ought to leave one feeling more exhilarated and blissful. She felt sure too that it involved more than a quick peck on the cheek and a slight ruffling of one's clothes, else what was all the fuss about?
“Those people only saw what they wanted to see.” As Sarah Walsingham had been among the first to decry her, it was hardly surprising things had ballooned out of all proportion. The minx had wanted Viola out of the way so she could firmly sink her talons into Lord Oglvive. He’d paid Viola one or two compliments prior to that incident. Sarah’s endeavour had evidently been a resounding success given her new status.
“I saw you,” Tom insisted, puffing out his chest. “I saw exactly where you had your hands.”
It was hard to argue with that, as Viola had no clear memory of where her hands had been. Given that the two men had just manhandled her into a position between them, she didn’t doubt they’d been on their bodies somewhere, but not out of any prurient desires on her part. “I’m innocent,” she stated simply.
“Wicked more like, and definitely wicked stubborn. Oh do as you please when we reach the green, but don’t complain to me when you end up with a frost bitten nose and your skin turns red and blistered.”
They walked in silence after that, until they crossed the canal and rounded the side of the coaching inn. “What will you do if I go to the tree?” she asked.
Tom peeped shrewdly at her. “Visit the good villagers, of course, and bring them father’s blessings along with the gifts of song and merriment. Isn’t that how the tradition works?”
She didn’t believe a word of it. Tom had other plans in mind, or she was as guilty as folks made out. “Do you even know any carols?”
“One or two.” Tom adjusted his collar so that it almost met the brim of his hat. “Also, I said I’d meet some of the fellows that father has staying with us. They came out earlier for a stroll.”
“You don’t mean to go house to house at all,” she said shaking her head. “Don’t even pretend. Honestly, Tom, and you say that I’m wicked. Father gave you those pennies to dish out, not for you to squander on ale and…and…”
“And what? Perhaps you ought to think carefully before open your pretty mouth; you wouldn’t want anything unladylike to spill out.”
“Buttonholes,” she said, not caring what knowledge she was admitting to. She was already a pariah, refusing to turn a blind eye to his whoring, was hardly likely to change her fate. “I swear you’re the biggest hypocrite in the world, Thomas Marsh. You pay women to do exactly what you condemn me for.”
“You’re the daughter of a gentleman, not a common tart. Go and stand beneath your tree, Vi, and you’d better not say a thing to father about this, or I swear I’ll tell him you
“You should have considered all those things before you chose to go canoodling with two men.”
“I didn’t,” she protested, coming to a standstill. Tom plodded on without her, so that she was forced to slip and slide in order to catch up. “I’ve told you a thousand times. All I did was attempt to get out of Sarah Walsingham’s way. The wretched woman had already stood on my train, snatched a feather from my hair and spilled punch down my front. A further encounter would likely have resulted in serious injury.”
“She’s Lady Oglvive now, Vi. And really, when are you going to stop pretending and own up to your actions. You were seen by a whole roomful of people, and with two men no less, as if being debauched by one weren’t scandalous enough.”
If what she’d experienced was genuine debauchment, then it wasn’t nearly as interesting as the rumours made it sound. It seemed to her that ravishment ought to leave one feeling more exhilarated and blissful. She felt sure too that it involved more than a quick peck on the cheek and a slight ruffling of one's clothes, else what was all the fuss about?
“Those people only saw what they wanted to see.” As Sarah Walsingham had been among the first to decry her, it was hardly surprising things had ballooned out of all proportion. The minx had wanted Viola out of the way so she could firmly sink her talons into Lord Oglvive. He’d paid Viola one or two compliments prior to that incident. Sarah’s endeavour had evidently been a resounding success given her new status.
“I saw you,” Tom insisted, puffing out his chest. “I saw exactly where you had your hands.”
It was hard to argue with that, as Viola had no clear memory of where her hands had been. Given that the two men had just manhandled her into a position between them, she didn’t doubt they’d been on their bodies somewhere, but not out of any prurient desires on her part. “I’m innocent,” she stated simply.
“Wicked more like, and definitely wicked stubborn. Oh do as you please when we reach the green, but don’t complain to me when you end up with a frost bitten nose and your skin turns red and blistered.”
They walked in silence after that, until they crossed the canal and rounded the side of the coaching inn. “What will you do if I go to the tree?” she asked.
Tom peeped shrewdly at her. “Visit the good villagers, of course, and bring them father’s blessings along with the gifts of song and merriment. Isn’t that how the tradition works?”
She didn’t believe a word of it. Tom had other plans in mind, or she was as guilty as folks made out. “Do you even know any carols?”
“One or two.” Tom adjusted his collar so that it almost met the brim of his hat. “Also, I said I’d meet some of the fellows that father has staying with us. They came out earlier for a stroll.”
“You don’t mean to go house to house at all,” she said shaking her head. “Don’t even pretend. Honestly, Tom, and you say that I’m wicked. Father gave you those pennies to dish out, not for you to squander on ale and…and…”
“And what? Perhaps you ought to think carefully before open your pretty mouth; you wouldn’t want anything unladylike to spill out.”
“Buttonholes,” she said, not caring what knowledge she was admitting to. She was already a pariah, refusing to turn a blind eye to his whoring, was hardly likely to change her fate. “I swear you’re the biggest hypocrite in the world, Thomas Marsh. You pay women to do exactly what you condemn me for.”
“You’re the daughter of a gentleman, not a common tart. Go and stand beneath your tree, Vi, and you’d better not say a thing to father about this, or I swear I’ll tell him you
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