Dear, Miss Violet. ✔

Chapter 30

Violet woke up late the day after what she thought was the worst party she'd ever attended.

Sure, there were parties she'd attended that were downright unbearable. And hurtful.

Like her debut party.

Violet had been declared pure success, just mere moments after her arrival. Men praised her profusely, women came forward and inquired about her, matrons- for once praised a newcomer, not only because of her looks, but also her kindness.

Violet hadn't flirted much, but she had smiled her way throughout, and had praised other women. She'd kept the gleam in her eyes alive throughout the conversations, admiring almost everyone too who'd praised her.

But there was this dowager duchess, Lady Martha, who'd said something to her that Violet could never forget.

She'd hauled Violet's arm, pulled her aside expertly, so as to not look suspicious and had said-

"You're eh the Greenhill chit, ah?"

Violet had cocked her head to the side, regarding the old lady carefully "yes, my Lady."

"You are pretty, and I can wager that you will receive umpteen callers who'd beg and ask you for marriage."

"Thank you..?"

"But, will you be able to bear marriage?"

Violet had felt her eyebrows furrow in question.

"I mean, don't take me wrong dear-er- at this time, if you marry, your marriage shall be in tatters.."

Violet had felt her heart break into a million pieces "I-I don't quite follow you- I beg er- I beg your pardon?"

The dowager had not looked the least bit uncomfortable "you um.. are extremely petite. Will you be able to bear children?"

Violet had felt this angry punch to her gut "I-I.."

"Dear, no man loves a petite woman. These foolish men of the ton nowadays value the face more than the body, which is exactly your case. You are staggeringly pretty and charming, but what about children?"

"What about them?"  Violet had nearly croaked.

The old duchess looked irritated "you barely have mass, how will you have children? Start eating and start gaining weight, if you want to avoid problems in your marriage."

Saying this, she'd left.

Violet still remembered standing there, with a broken heart and a forceful smile that barely touched her eyes. The pain had pierced her like a sharp needle.

Except the needle had drawn invisible tears instead of blood.

Violet accurately remembered hogging food for a week after the incident to avoid such comments again.

In the two years, she'd gained she supposed nearly a stone but had lost far more interest in society than she was allowed to as an unmarried lady.

She'd received umpteen callers, more than 20, but she'd not accepted because she knew that none were suitable. None possessed a heart that purely wanted her, and not just her beauty or charm.

Sure, men always wanted pretty wives, but it'd seemed that the men of London Society only wanted pretty AND dimwitted wives who didn't argue much with them and allowed them their freedom in spite of their horrendous behavior and lecherous attitude.

Ugh, she could never be that wife.

And as Violet was known for her wit and quick replies (at times of genteel conversation), her suitors had indirectly told her to tone down her piqued curiosity and witty replies, because they found them 'unladylike'.

And Violet absolutely loathed restrictions. For God's sake, she could not pretend to be someone she was not.

She'd always thought that she'd never find the 'right man' for herself, or at least till Lord Simon had arrived.

He had consistently been her hero ever since.

From forgiving her for ruining his precious clothes, to saving her life from the wretched cold that could have killed her.

From making her realize the true nature of Miranda and himself becoming her friend, to practically saving her from the devilish Lord Jonathan who could've ruined her in mere moments.

Violet thought about the last bit for a moment. She hadn't thanked him for that part yet.

The aftermath was exceedingly embarrassing. She'd literally FLED the scene.

What must he think of her?
And to crown her misery, she'd run like a dunce. Absolute idiot.

Violet had never been athletic, but that was really awkward.

But what else could she have done?

She's been so aggrieved, so enveloped in stress and so paralyzed with fear, that for a moment she felt like her body was diminishing into thin air.

When Lord Jonathan was closing the distance amidst them, Violet had felt so dirty in her own skin, that even a hundred baths wouldn't have sufficed.

She'd felt her world shatter and her heart tear apart.

And it had hurt her even more because for a moment, for a fleeting moment- she'd thought that he was 'anonymous'.

A nervous laughter escaped Violet's throat as she contemplated it once again.

What a stupid fool she was!

She slowly got up from her bed and walked over to the basin.

Slowly and ever so steadily, she wallowed her face into a bowl of cold water kept aside.

Ahh..She'd always liked the feel of chilled water caressing her skin.

She dried her face with a cloth and walked toward her bed and simply plopped herself upon it.

Why the hell was she trying to find anonymous? Or the right man? Or..Or..why, why was she trying to search for love in Lord Simon's eyes?

Why was she trying to find love in different places?

Why couldn't for once, she get away from her thoughts and run away to a place filled with warmth and simplicity?

Yes, she'd asked for some spice in her life. Yes she'd wanted to feel like the heroine in a stupid novel in quest of a gentleman who could fill her life with love and heartfelt feelings.

But her life was instead confusing her and making her feel several emotions at once that she could not conceive well.

She was the heroine in her story, but her story had no hero. And even if it did, she could not figure out who he was.

Violet slowly rose from her bed, and blinked. 

She felt this urge to do something, to just, to just, move.

To just do something. To just thank someone....

Lord Simon.

She had to thank him. He'd saved her.

If not for him, she would have been ruined beyond repair. How did he feel her distress so accurately?

It was as if Lord had himself sent Lord Simon to help her.

She had to thank him, she had to.