Marrying her Best-Friend (The Seymour Siblings Book 3) Page 4

  “It is not who you are, Lizzie,” Carson said, flicking his hand dismissively.

  Lizzie glared at him with narrowed eyes. Did he really just say that?

  Carson sat up and continued quickly. “Which I mean in the most honourable manner possible. You cannot pretend to be someone you are not, Lizzie. You and I both know this.”

  “Perhaps it is time I changed something of myself, as I have not had any good fortune with being who I am now,” Lizzie said, lifting her nose high in the air.

  “Do not dare utter such nonsense. You are perfect the way you are,” Carson defended. “And you should not allow any person to make you feel as though you are not worthy, least of all my sister.”

  Lizzie scoffed and shook her head. “I am surprised that she has not found you a wife already.”

  Lizzie cocked her head as she noticed a slight hint of hesitation in Carson’s manner suddenly. Her brow furrowed.

  “While we are on the subject, my lady,” Carson said as he glanced at her, his eyes darkening. “My sister has lost her mind and taken it upon herself to arrange a meeting with Miss Violet Saunders.”

  Lizzie searched her memory. That name rang a bell somewhere.

  “The chief magistrate’s daughter?” Lizzie inquired with surprise as she raised her glass of water to her lips.

  “Indeed.”

  “Why?” Of all the people to introduce to Carson, why Violet Saunders?

  “Adrienne is under the impression that we will be a delightful couple.”

  Cold water spewed from Lizzie’s mouth in an icy spray.

  Carson glanced at her in horror, but only for a moment. Then a smile formed on his lips as he reached for her face and wiped the water from her chin.

  “That was precisely the reaction I would have given at that moment,” Carson nodded in agreement.

  Lizzie reached for her handkerchief that lay in the pocket of her dress. She quickly dabbed at her wet, cold face, still feeling the tinge of Carson’s touch.

  “What did you tell her?” she demanded. Adrienne couldn’t possibly be thinking of Violet for Carson’s bride.

  “I have never met the young woman, which makes me even more unsettled, but Adrienne is as persistent as she is caring. I had no choice in the matter,” Carson sighed and glanced at Lizzie. “It does not upset you, does it?”

  Lizzie scoffed and shook her head as she placed the glass on the table. “Why would that upset me? You know very well that I wish for you to be happy.”

  Lizzie could not help but feel utterly disappointed by this turn of events. Perhaps if she had the courage to make her feelings for him known, she would not be sitting there on the terrace, hearing of this meeting he now had with Miss Violet.

  A meeting that could potentially lead to a future marriage. Lizzie was aware how insistent and persistent Miss Adrienne was, and Lizzie was quite certain that she would do anything and everything to ensure that Carson married a woman she saw as fitting.

  However, Adrienne was wrong. Miss Violet was not a good fit for Carson at all, but it was certainly not her place to tell him that. She’d probably appear jealous and spiteful.

  In her heart, she tried to convince herself that she was neither of those things. But the multitude of emotions bubbling up inside her – anger, disappointment, guilt, disbelief, resentment, sadness, loneliness – caused her to pause.

  It had become increasingly obvious that Carson meant much more to her than she’d thought.

  “Adrienne is an intelligent woman, and she knows you well. Who better to choose a wife for you than her?” Lizzie eventually asked, forcing a smile.

  “You overestimate her ability to know me, Lizzie,” Carson said with a shake of his head. “There is only one person in the world who knows me better than I know myself,” Carson said with a tender tone in his baritone voice, and his eyes softened significantly. “And that person is you.”

  Lizzie’s heart leapt and she gripped her handkerchief in her lap tightly to stop herself from squealing or something else equally embarrassing.

  “But it is not for me to decide whom you must marry. That choice is solely yours, is it not?” Lizzie asked.

  “We shall see,” Carson muttered. “I am, however, not optimistic with regards to the outcome of tonight’s meeting. I do not believe that love and marriage can be forced.”

  “I agree. Marriage is simply a terrible thing. If one falls in love and finds the one person they wish to spend the rest of their life alongside, then I do not object in the least. But forcing two people who have nothing in common to marry and pretend to be a happy family for the sake of appearances is simply foolish,” Lizzie confessed.

  Her brothers had both found love, and she was happy for them. Marriage suited such alliances.

  “I agree with you. It is simply the part of this world we find ourselves in,” Carson mumbled.

  “Perhaps you and I should escape this world. Clearly there is nothing for us here,” Lizzie suggested.

  “Next Spring,” Carson smiled at her, and an enormous swarm of butterflies fluttered in her stomach.

  The urge to kiss him came forth once more, but she fought it with every cell in her body.

  Now was not the time.

  But... when would it ever be the right time?

  Chapter Six.

  Shadows had formed outside Carson’s window as he stared out at Woodlock Manor in the distance. More specifically, the window of Lizzie’s bedchamber. The flames of a lit chandelier flickered inside, and he wondered what Lizzie was doing. Whether she felt as nauseated as he by the fact that he would be meeting with Miss Violet in a short while.

  He was not oblivious to the underlying emotions he’d seen in her eyes when he’d mentioned Miss Violet, and his sister’s intention to marry him off to the chief magistrate’s daughter. He knew Lizzie well enough to see that it had cut up her peace. In fact, the mere thought of this meeting had him feeling the same way.

  Carson was dressed in his formal dinner attire, with his hair perfectly parted to the side. Although he was not too enthusiastic about the planned evening, he’d still dressed respectfully. His father had enforced unshakeable ethics and morals into him.

  Carson quietly left his chambers and made his way along the long hallway that led to the grand staircase. Downstairs, he could already hear Adrienne’s voice speaking to Miss Violet, and Carson drew in a deep breath, preparing himself for the evening.

  As he reached the bottom of the stairwell, his thoughts immediately drifted to Lizzie, her beautiful smile, her infectious laughter and her bright eyes. No one could compare to her.

  He entered the dining hall and found his sister and Miss Violet standing beside the dinner table, speaking in animated tones.

  “Brother.” Adrienne beamed the moment she noticed him enter and turned to him.

  Carson smiled politely and approached the two young ladies. “Good evening, sister.”

  “My dear brother, may I introduce the lovely Miss Violet Saunders,” Adrienne chimed. “Miss Violet, this is my dear brother, Mr. Carson Wallace.”

  “Good evening, Miss Violet,” Carson greeted with a smile. “It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

  “Yours as well, Mr. Wallace,” Miss Violet reciprocated and held out her hand to Carson.

  As social invention dictated, Carson took her hand, brought it to his lips and gently kissed her skin.

  Miss Violet didn’t react in any manner and simply nodded as she withdrew her hand from his. Carson wasn’t certain whether she shared his feelings of wanting to be elsewhere, or if she was as repulsed by him as she appeared to be. Perhaps she was also in love with another and she’d been forced by her father to be here.

  “Miss Adrienne could not stop talking of you, Carson. I simply had to meet the man whom she made sound so intriguing,” Lady Violet said.

  “I can assure you, my sister was exaggerating,” Carson chuckled.

  Lady Violet’s forced laughter unsettled him, and as he glance
d at a beaming Adrienne, his smile faded. Didn’t his sister see her friend’s façade?

  “I am rather famished,” his sister said and grasped her hands together. “Shall we?”

  They sat at the dinner table and it was quiet for a moment, much to Carson’s relief. It was only when Miss Violet started to speak that he shifted uneasily in his chair, her voice grating on him.

  Admittedly, she was a beautiful young woman, with dark brown eyes framed with long lashes, and flawless skin. Her golden hair gave her the appearance of a goddess, but there was something about Miss Violet that didn’t appeal to Carson. He was simply not certain what it was.

  “Carson, your sister tells me that you are having the library renovated,” Miss Violet voiced.

  “Indeed. Luckily the carpenters only work until the sun goes down. The racket can be quite distracting,” Carson answered with a nod.

  “I can only imagine. Not even to mention the dust and the mess,” Miss Violet scowled. “Father had our entire family home restored during the summer while Mother and I visited Greece. It was lovely there, although it was quite warm and uncomfortable at times. But lovely, nonetheless. Do you like to travel, Mr. Wallace?”

  “At times, and with the right travel companion,” Carson answered.

  “Oh, I do agree. A good travel companion is worth their weight in gold. Nothing places a damper on a holiday more than someone who does not care for the same things you do,” Miss Violet answered with a nod. “Father allowed me to visit family in Ireland, but they sent my chambermaid with me, as Mother and Father had business to attend to here in Somerset and couldn’t come along. My chambermaid is an older woman with rather stout features, not ideal for walking along the Irish countryside, may I say. She would complain so much, it was infuriating. Breathing heavily, and the panting was irrationally loud.”

  Carson’s jaw dropped and he glanced at Adrienne. His eyes met only a blank expression. He was not certain how to react to the young woman’s tale, which he found rather offensive. Clearly, she had neither compassion nor empathy for the older, plumper chambermaid who probably had no interest in walking the roads she was forced down.

  “Ireland is a beautiful place,” he managed to say.

  “It was too cold for my liking. I could not stand to wear all those capes and coats. It is not at all flattering,” Miss Violet answered.

  Carson sighed then noticed Adrienne tapping her index finger on the table. He knew that move. His sister now regretted her decision. Not only was Miss Violet uncouth and disrespectful towards people older than her and in lower positions, she was starting to annoy both his sister and him.

  For the duration of their dinner, Miss Violet monopolized the conversation, not truly allowing either of the Wallace siblings to speak for longer than a few moments. They simply sat at the table in awe of Miss Violet’s verbal capacity.

  She spoke of herself and her own experiences so much, that Carson became rather desperate for the night to end, and not to ever have her in his home ever again.

  Carson’s gaze was cast downward, and he was immersed in his own world, far away from Miss Violet. To distract himself from his increasing frustration, he slowly ran his finger along the rim of his glass.

  He stopped as soon as he noticed the silence around him. He looked up at their guest, who gazed at him expectantly.

  Had she asked him a question?

  Carson cleared his throat and straightened in his chair. “My sincerest apologies, Miss Violet.”

  “I do hate to interrupt your thoughts, Carson. Clearly, they were much more important than being present with us,” Miss Violet admonished.

  “Of course not, Miss Violet,” he assured her, though he agreed wholeheartedly.

  “Miss Adrienne spoke of the gardens, and I merely inquired whether you would show them to me.” Miss Violet smiled, fluttering her lashes at him in a conspicuous manner.

  “It would be my pleasure,” Carson answered, forcing a smile to his lips and standing, finally. “Would you care to join us, Adrienne?”

  “I would not dream of interfering. This will allow you and Miss Violet to become better acquainted,” his sister answered. “Would you not agree?”

  Carson’s jaw clenched for a moment and forced another smile. “Indeed.”

  “Lovely.”

  Carson quietly escorted the verbose Miss Violet from the dining hall, through the short hallway that led to the terrace and outside. The pathway leading to the garden gate was bathed in a silver hue of the moonlight, as the full moon proudly shone against the dark blue velvet sky. The air was fresh and cool, but it was a pleasant evening.

  It was rather strange to walk along the pathway between the flowers and the trees with someone other than Lizzie. Carson realized suddenly why he felt unsettled in Miss Violet’s presence. It was not simply because she only spoke of herself and sounded like the most selfish person in the entire world.

  It was because she was not Lizzie.

  Miss Violet didn’t have the same bright hue of green in her eyes that Lizzie had, nor did she have a dimple in her cheek that made its appearance as soon as she smiled. Miss Violet’s laugh was forced and didn’t seem genuine at all, while Lizzie’s laughter was infectious, and he could not help but join in when she laughed.

  But most of all, Lizzie’s presence completed Carson. He didn’t feel alone when he was beside her. The loneliness, however, was evident as he strode beside Miss Violet, who seemed to be in her own little world, which revolved entirely around herself.

  Not even in his darkest or most desperate moments would he ever consider courting Miss Violet, not to mention marrying her. His sister had made a terrible error in judgment on his behalf, and he was certainly going to inform her of it as soon as Miss Violet departed.

  “Carson?”

  Carson glanced at his guest immediately, as he didn’t wish to appear rude once more and answered, “Miss Violet?”

  “Is there something the matter? Am I boring you?” she inquired.

  “No, of course not. I was merely thinking of my late father. He adored these gardens and had ensured they were properly cared for. I recall those days, before my mother left, when he would come here and be lost in his own world. My mother would have to practically drag him by his collar to return to the manor house,” Carson recalled sadly, the memories of his father—and mother, for that matter—flooding his mind and his heart.

  “Father informed me of your mother and father’s situation, and it was quite the scandal all those years ago. It is not common practice for a married man and wife to have their marriage nullified, as Father said.”

  Carson straightened, putting both hands behind his back. “Could we please speak of something other than my parents’ failed marriage?”

  “Certainly. But along the topic of marriage, what is your opinion on it?” Miss Violet inquired.

  Carson drew in a deep and wearisome breath and noticed the wooden bench nearby. “Perhaps we could sit?”

  “That would be lovely,” Miss Violet answered.

  They approached the bench and sat down.

  “My parents’ marriage affected me more than it should have, and more than I thought it would. I am rather sceptical to engage in the process of courting, betrothal, and marriage as a result.”

  “As you think you will end up as your parents have?” Miss Violet asked, raising her brows.

  Carson pursed his lips and leaned back against the backrest of the bench. “In a manner of speaking, I suppose. I was raised to believe that everything that happens in our lives serves a purpose and will be understood in time. But my parents’ separation was one of the few things in my life that had no purpose. Our lives didn’t become better after it happened. My father was miserable until the day he passed, and I am not even certain where my mother is now. If she is still, in fact... alive. My parents’ marriage was the result of an agreement between their parents, and it didn’t turn out well. Marriage should be between two people who love one another fro
m the start, accept each other as they are, and be willing to compromise to live happily together.”

  Miss Violet shook her head at him. “That is a strange mindset to have in this world in which we live, Carson. But it does not make it untrue. And while Father will not share this opinion of yours, it is quite refreshing to have a man think with his heart, rather than his brain.”

  Carson smiled, and even though the young woman sat right beside him, the only person he was able to see was Lizzie.

  Chapter Seven.

  Lizzie cringed as the door behind her creaked when she closed it. The cool night air was precisely what she needed to divert her thoughts away from Carson’s meeting with Miss Violet Saunders. The young woman’s name left a bitter taste in her mouth without even saying it out loud. Just the mere thought of her beady eyes gazing at Carson caused Lizzie to become angered.

  Even the walls of her bedchamber had begun to close in on her, hence she had escaped to the garden for relief. If there was ever a place where Lizzie could find peace and serenity, it was in her father’s garden. In fact, it was a space so large and vast that it spanned from Woodlock Manor onto Carson’s estate. The two neighbouring estates had made use of the same gardener in order to keep the gardens in optimal opulence.

  The beautifully kept area was also the only thing that Lizzie had left of her father. A man whose footsteps had been impossible to fill, and who had left such a hole in her heart when he passed.

  Lizzie quietly descended the steps that led to the gardens, leading along the side of the manor house. Soon she opened the wrought iron gate that indicated the entrance. The bright moon overhead illuminated her path, even though she didn’t require any guidance to navigate through the hedges and trees, the flowers and the fountains. Lizzie had spent most of her childhood running along the pathways and had memorized every metre of the space.

  Lizzie wandered, without purpose or direction, through the garden, and eventually found herself in the area that connected the two estates.