Dear, Miss Violet. ✔

Chapter 33

Violet was utterly horrified.

She just couldn't stop crying! She tried a lot to inhale, but all she could manage were short puffs of timely exhalations.

And she felt even worse for Lord Simon, who by breaking the first rule of propriety was already by her side, trying extremely hard to console her.

She looked down at his handkerchief, which was soaking wet due to her endless stream of tears.

"Miss Violet, I-I wish I could do something to ease your pain.."

Violet looked at him. Apprehension, with a slight mix of concern creased his forehead. There was something so adorable at the way he was looking at her.

His eyes, those beautiful blue eyes twinkled with something, some emotion she couldn't recognize. Probably his eyes weren't blue, they were some shade that was an amalgamation of sapphire and cerulean. But still, they looked like ocean. A vast ocean of hidden feelings and secrets.

And oh his hair. Thick and brown and just beautiful. Men were supposed to be handsome not beautiful, she reminded herself. But no, Lord Simon was beautiful. 

He was a beautiful man, with a beautiful heart, and an even beautiful personality. 

She couldn't take her eyes off his face. It was so perfect. He was indescribably alluring. 

That perfectly carved nose, those long eyelashes that flicked up and down, that pink of a mouth.

His lips could set women afire with jealousy. Those lips were just perfect, soft and pink and pretty. And slightly fetchingly swollen.

Damn, she felt breathless for a moment, and Violet had this weird urge to touch his lips and let her fingers feel the exact shape of them.

And so she did.

She came forward, and touched his lower lip which slightly quivered.

She let her finger feel the slight mass of it, and ever so slightly, Violet pressed her finger onto his upper lip, resting it downwards and closing his slightly parted mouth.

"Miff Viovett?" Simon said with alarmed eyes and a closed mouth.

The moment Violet broke out of her reverie, she knew what she'd done.

She knew that WHAT she'd done was something a genteel woman was not even allowed to think of in an unmarried state.

And to her utter horror, she started crying again, and this time with such fervor that she knew that she had literally killed all of her self respect in one single day.

"Lord Simon-I-I-I, please forgive me!" she cried, her tears soaking his handkerchief even more.

"Miss-"

"PLEASE! I BEG YOU! I-"
"MISS VIOLET!" Simon screamed, his entire being rocked by two simple words "please stop with those pointless apologies."

Violet stopped crying and shut her mouth. She looked at him, expecting him to say something, but all he did was rake his hands through his hair, and exhale.

"Do you care for tea?" Simon asked, slowly and in clipped tones, after several seconds.

"That would be helpful" Violet returned as she cleared her throat and gulped.

Simon rang for tea, and in no time two maids came and set up the tea, making two cups respectively.

Violet was handed over her cup, and as the first sip of tea rolled in her throat, for a sheer moment, she felt good. The tea was delicious and it seemed to moisten her parched throat.

Violet couldn't figure out why she had cried at the beginning. It was part because of Lord Jonathan who had made her feel disgusting in her very own skin, but it was mostly because of Lord Simon, who was looking at her so intently with attention that she felt beautiful again.

Her soul that Lord Jonathan had set up in flames, was regenerated and given a new shape and new form by Lord Simon's one sweet gaze.

She did not know why but whenever he looked at her, there was love that danced in the depth of his eyes. 

He made her feel the exact way anonymous did.

And so she'd cried. Because she felt this urge to let herself loose in front of him and show him that she felt things, and she was capable of crying in his company because his company was the purest form of comfort.

She wanted to do all things with Lord Simon that she wanted to do with anonymous. 

She wanted to run across fields but while holding Lord Simon's hand. She wanted to let her hair down, and she wanted him to run his hands through them and take in their scent, all the while resting her in the palace of his arms. A palace of love, beauty and respect.

She wanted him to rest in her arms, and sleep like a baby, so that she could feel his hair and those curls that rested atop his brow. She wanted to caress his cheek and lips and feel the length of his eyelashes.

She wanted..she wanted..

She wanted him.