snippet from Violette's Story
Violette's Story
tried valiantly to walk and gasped with pain as spasms hit her again. A footman brought an umbrella to cover them as Lawrence, Viscount Waldrip, picked up his writhing lady love and carried her limping up the steps and into the light of flambeaus, while another footman grabbed the reins of her steaming horse and walked him toward the stables. Parton bowed them into the marble hallway lit by candles reflected and refracted in the shimmering crystal of the chandelier overhead as he shut the door against the night.

Where had his wits gone,Waldrip wondered as he barked out commands. Seeing her in front of his home after twenty-five years of waiting had turned his brain to mush. The fact that his delight had ridden a horse, of all things, and a very large one at that, in her dancing slippers should have alerted him at once. But the puzzle would have to wait and so would his injured knee.

drawers under the narrow gown as she rode and her thighs were chafed raw as well as cramping. He murmured to the maid servant and she went to his dressing room and returned with ointment provided by Waldrip’s valet who discreetly remained behind in the dressing room. With her hatred of riding at anything greater than a gentle canter, he knew the desperation that must have driven her to ride five miles through the dark and blinding rain in her evening clothes no less. He was worried about the reason for that desperation, but that was a less urgent issue when compared to her blue lips and the dead white cast of her usually rosy skin.


“Come along, Alice, let us get you warmed up.” He wrapped her in the soft woolen blanket draped on the bed and carried her to the hip bath. As he approached, the maid servant moved a screen between the fireplace and the door to provide a belated privacy. As Waldrip gently lowered Alice, she gasped and began to weep: the numbness abruptly wearing off her feet, legs, hands and arms as burning pain hit her on all sides. Her thighs felt as though they were on fire and she could hardly keep her hands in the water. When she tried to draw them out, even struggling to leave the tub, Waldrip pushed her down under the water. Yet even as the warm water buffeted her skin, she shook uncontrollably, unable to shed the cold at her core.

There was a knock at the door, then the maid entered carrying a tea tray and a brandy decanter. She checked the pot, poured the tea, added 3 lumps of sugar and extended the cup and saucer to Waldrip. He took the cup and shifted his position to both ease his leg and support the shivering bit of humanity before him. “Here, dearest,” he cradled the back of her shuddering head and lifted her mouth to meet the lip of the tea cup he held in the other. Her teeth chattered against the rim, she was still sobbing with pain, and a good portion of the tea spilled into the tub. The maid servant glanced at him, lifted her eyebrow, added two more lumps of sugar and poured a generous portion of brandy from the crystal decanter into the next cup of tea. This time, as she swallowed the tea, Alice choked and gagged on the spirits burning their way down her throat. He nodded to the maid servant and she waved away the footman who had carried more hot water to the door. She picked up the heavy pail and carried it around the screen and began to slowly add hot water to the cooling water within. He nodded and she withdrew from the room.

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