An Heiress for All Seasons by Sophie Jordan Page B

refresh horses. Violet would have preferred they move at a faster pace, but with the accumulation of snow they could only travel so quickly. Not without risking themselves. As it were, they were weary when they finally stopped for the night at an inn.
    The driver and groom saw to the horse as Violet, her mother, and the two maids slogged through the snow into the busy inn. It was Christmas Eve, she remembered dully as they stepped into the boisterous taproom.
    It was some moments before their presence was even noted by the ruddy-faced innkeeper. He tore himself away from the small group of carolers near the fire.
    “Ladies,” he greeted in a booming voice. “Welcome, welcome! Happy Christmas!”
    “Happy Christmas,” she returned hollowly.
    Her mother forced a wan smile. She had ceased to cry some hours ago, but Violet was well aware that her composure was only thinly-won. She could crumble again at the slightest provocation.
    “We should like two rooms.”
    “One,” Violet quickly corrected her mother. Their maids could share a room with them. Gone was the lifestyle they were accustomed to. If they could economize and return home with some of their funds, the better off they would be.
    “Of course, come sit and warm yourselves by the fire and I’ll have a room readied for you.” He led them to a table, snapping for a serving girl to fetch some warmed wine.
    Usually her mother refrained from spirits, but she eagerly accepted the drink, consumed it, and then held her goblet out for more.
    “We have a lovely pheasant and potatoes prepared this evening if—”
    “That sounds delicious.” Violet nodded, caring little to hear the menu. She simply required food and a bed. Darkness where she could bury her face in a pillow and weep out her heartache in silent tears.
    Will would know she was gone by now and he would know why. She had deliberately left the letter to be found. No other explanation was needed. He would understand. He was likely grateful she had taken her leave, sparing them both an uncomfortable scene.
    Violet and her mother ate in brooding silence, watching the merriment unfolding around them, seeming to mock their dour mood.
    “Would you ladies care for our mint pudding?”
    Violet shook her head and then stopped at her mother’s vigorous nod. “Yes, thank you.”
    Apparently she would not be escaping upstairs just yet. The innkeeper scurried off, skirting some dancing couples. The same couples passed their table, bumping it in their movements.
    Violet winced, righting her empty cup where it had fallen. Would this wretched day ever end so she could lick her wounds in solitude?
    Sudden cold whipped into the taproom as the heavy wood door opened and three tall figures stepped inside. Everything within her froze. Her lungs seized, air ceasing to flow. The three men stood there, filling the threshold. Even bundled in greatcoats, she recognized them. Her gaze sharpened on the man in the center. Merlton. Will .
    Her mother noticed the earl and his friends, as well, squeaking her alarm and dropping her spoon with a clatter. “Violet! What . . . how? I told you we should have explained and made our farewells—”
    Violet covered her mother’s hand with one of her own, silencing her. Will scanned the room, and in those few moments she debated fleeing, hiding somewhere in the inn. Until he spotted her and put an end to such frantic thoughts.
    His gaze narrowed on her. His purposeful strides carried him across the room toward her. She rose to her feet, lifting her chin. “Lord Merlton—”
    His eyes flashed as he closed the distance between them and latched onto her wrist, pulling her around the table. “I told you to call me Will.”
    She dug in her heels, resisting him. “Stop! You don’t understand. I left the letter for you to—”
    He stopped and shoved his face close to hers. “I saw your bloody letter!”
    “Then you understand—”
    “I understand a good deal more than you do if you think