Victoria and violet, p.1
Victoria & Violet, page 1
Table of Contents
Excerpt
Praise for Rachel Brimble
Victoria & Violet
Copyright
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-One
Chapter Forty-Two
Chapter Forty-Three
Chapter Forty-Four
Chapter Forty-Five
Chapter Forty-Six
Epilogue
A word about the author…
Thank you for purchasing
Also available from The Wild Rose Press
As Lady Kingsley crept out from behind the hay bales and hurried through the courtyard, a strange mix of helplessness and hope simmered inside Violet. And when James placed his hand gently on the small on her back, she closed her eyes, fighting the need to turn around and bury her face in his chest.
“It will be all right,” he said, softly. “For all her flirtation and playing around, Abigail is a good soul. She is desperately unhappy at court but makes the most of what is expected of her.”
“She’s unhappy?” Violet turned around, her senses filling with the musky masculine scent of him. “But she is always smiling and laughing. I thought—”
“A charade, a pretense that Abigail has perfected. One I fear she will be forced to carry on living once her parents choose her husband.” His gaze dropped to her mouth. “I don’t want you to suffer unhappiness any more than I do her, but there is little I can do to deter her family’s martial expectations. But if I can find a way to set you free from your mother’s dictatorship, I will.”
Violet’s heart hammered as the desire to kiss him grew stronger. “Why are you here, James? With me? Like this?”
He inched closer. “Because there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”
She should step back, save herself, but it was too late. He cared about her, he was helping her, protecting her…
“James, I—”
His mouth touched hers, and any words were lost in his tentative, wonderful kiss.
Praise for Rachel Brimble
“Such a compelling read—one of Rachel Brimble’s finest yet!”
~Clare & Lou’s Mad About Books (5 Stars)
~*~
“I had to stay up to finish it. I just couldn’t put it down!”
~Splashes Into Books (5 Stars)
~*~
“Rachel Brimble is one of my favorite authors. Her books are always engrossing, authentic, gripping and richly atmospheric.”
~Dash Fan (5 Stars)
~*~
Rachel Brimble is the author of over 25 published contemporary romance, romantic suspense, and historical romance/fiction novels.
An Amazon bestselling author several times over, Rachel has thousands of followers from all over the world on Instagram, Twitter and Facebook.
Victoria & Violet
by
Rachel Brimble
The Royal Maids, Book 1
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.
Victoria & Violet
COPYRIGHT © 2022 by Rachel Brimble
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press, Inc. except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
Contact Information: info@thewildrosepress.com
Cover Art by The Wild Rose Press, Inc.
The Wild Rose Press, Inc.
PO Box 708
Adams Basin, NY 14410-0708
Visit us at www.thewildrosepress.com
Publishing History
First Edition, 2022
Trade Paperback ISBN 978-1-5092-4439-3
Digital ISBN 978-1-5092-4477-5
The Royal Maids, Book 1
Published in the United States of America
Dedication
For Mr. B—my husband, my rock, my boy…
Everything I do, you support.
Everything I dream, you dream for me, too.
I love you,
Rachel x
Chapter One
Windsor Castle, May 1839
“Violet, will you cease gawping at that painting and give me your full attention!”
Violet Parker inhaled a calming breath before reluctantly turning away from the magnificent portrait of Queen Victoria’s paternal grandfather, Francis, Duke of Saxe-Coburg-Saalfeld.
She faced her mother—a woman possibly more hateful than the queen’s mother, the Duchess of Kent, in whose bedchamber they now stood. “I’m sorry, Mama.”
“So you should be. Now…” Her mother walked behind the gold brocade sofa from where the duchess sat staring at Violet, her eyes wide with unwavering expectation, her mouth pinched. “After all the hours I have sacrificed and all the frustration I have endured training you to the utmost level of perfection,” her mother said, “I think you are finally ready.”
Violet stilled, her thoughts of pigment and brush strokes dissolving. “Ready?”
“To serve the queen, girl! Why do you think I have invested so much time schooling you in conduct, decorum, and household skill?” Her mother’s cheeks mottled, her icy-blue gaze growing impossibly colder. “I have secured you a place as the queen’s personal housemaid. You will work under the authority of Baroness Lehzen, of course, but there is little I can do about that.”
“I am to leave the duchess’s household?” Violet looked between her mother and the duchess. “I had no idea.”
Her mother curled her fingers over the top of the sofa. “That’s because everything you learn is on a need-to-know basis. But yes, you will leave us and work solely for the queen.”
Excitement knotted Violet’s stomach as the sunlit room suddenly grew a little brighter, the stuffiness lifting enough that her breath flowed easier. Was she about to find herself free of her mother’s long-reaching fingers? Able to work in peace at the other end of the vast castle? Maybe paint without ridicule?
She inhaled, the combined smell of soot and beeswax that hung heavy in the room not nearly as irritating to her lungs as usual. “Then I am deeply honored.”
Her mother’s eyes narrowed. “Do not make the mistake of surmising this as an opportunity to escape my watchful eye. This new placement by no means allows you freedom from your duties to me or the duchess.”
Violet tightened her laced fingers and held her mother’s glare. “If I am to work for the queen, how can I possibly serve both her and the duch—”
“Oh, you are such an infuriating girl at times!” Her mother rounded the sofa, the blonde tendrils lining her forehead quivering with the force of her annoyance as she marched toward Violet. She stopped barely inches away and pointed her bony finger in her daughter’s face. “The only reason you will be there is to orchestrate a reunion between the queen and the duchess. You will become Victoria’s confidante, her friend, and do everything in your power to recall her love and need for her mother. Do you understand?”
Violet’s tentative whispers of elation at possible liberty popped like soap bubbles as she snapped her gaze to the duchess and then her mother. “But how am I to cajole Victoria, the queen of England, to do my bidding? Mama, the queen does as she pleases, you know that. Why on earth would she listen to me?”
“The queen will listen to you because you will make it so. I did not raise your place at the palace for the good of my health, but for the happiness of the duchess. One way or another, you will ensure the queen’s trust in you is secured.”
As Violet opened her mouth to respond, the duchess waved a pink silk handkerchief in the air like a miniature flag. “Ladies, please, no more heated words. The last thing I want is for another mother and daughter to experience the wretchedness of an acrimonious separation.”
Wretchedness? Violet could not think of anything more joyous than being away from her overbearing and often cruel mother.
The duchess rose from the sofa and came toward Violet, her dark hair gleaming under the sunlight that speared the carpet ahead of her. She gently took Violet’s hand, her p
The only opportunities Violet wanted were connected to painting, and it was highly unlikely she would find them at court where she was little more than a lackey, a shadow barely noticed by courtier or royalty. The fact the all-too-often aloof duchess had condescended to touch her meant this situation was grave and undoubtedly dangerous…especially for Violet.
“I beseech you to do all you can to help me and your wonderful mama.” The duchess tightened her fingers on Violet’s. “It grieves her equally as much as me that I am constantly separated from my dear Drina.” She closed her eyes as though the pain were too much before snapping them open again, ruthlessness swirling in their hazel depths once more. “Your task is simple. You will ingratiate yourself into my daughter’s good graces, and once she likes you—”
“But, ma’am, how can I ensure that Her Majesty will like me?” Violet swallowed, the underhandedness of this elevation tasting bitter in her mouth. “The queen has the baroness and at least half a dozen ladies devoted to her. She will hardly notice me among—”
“Oh, but she will.” The duchess dropped Violet’s hand and stepped back, annoyance shadowing her gaze. “Time and again, Drina complains of her lack of young company. Complains that her life is full of stuffy gentlemen and virtuous ladies who do not seem to care for fun, whereas she likes to dance and play. I have every confidence she will warm to you as soon as she sees you are a woman of her own age and understands her hankering for such nonsense.”
Uncertain whether she should be flattered or insulted, Violet dipped her head. “Well, yes, I am young, but as for—”
“Then you are all you need to be to convince the queen of your value,” Violet’s mother interrupted as she joined them in the center of the room. “You will show Her Majesty that without you, her life will be little more than duty as it had been before.”
“And once you have gained her trust and companionship…” The duchess’s smile was almost maniacal, her small white teeth reminding Violet of those she’d seen in the mouths of foxes. “Then you will tell her of your love for your dear mama and convince the queen she misses the company of hers.”
Unease whispered through Violet as she looked from the wily gaze of the duchess to the conniving gaze of her mother. “I…need a moment to digest what you expect of me. What you ask seems impossible.”
Violet walked to the window, away from two of the court’s most detested women, her mind racing. The beauty of Windsor stretched as far as she could see, the greenery rolling and seemingly endless. Yet for Victoria—and Violet—the ancient and revered palace was little more than a theatre. A playhouse where their mothers leaned over them, pulling and yanking their strings, jerking her and Victoria this way and that, according to their wishes.
As far as Violet was concerned, the queen had endured so much at her mother’s and Sir Conroy’s hands during the first eighteen years of her life, Victoria had every right never to see or speak to either of them again. Even though she had managed to entirely banish Conroy from her presence, Victoria would not completely rid herself of her mother until such time as the queen married.
Violet understood that entrapment completely, her empathy and sympathy entirely with Victoria. Inhaling a strengthening breath, the first whispers of certainty swept through her. Whatever her mother and the duchess might ask of her, her loyalty would remain with the queen. A woman so different from her in a hundred ways but so alike in others. Their youth, entrapment, and frustration would surely be deep enough to act as the foundation to Violet becoming Victoria’s ally rather than her backstabbing betrayer.
“Violet!” Her mother’s voice cracked across the room. “Will you come away from that window? There is much to do.”
Violet turned and smiled sweetly. “I have understood your instructions, Mama, Duchess. I will do all that I can to make the queen’s life merry and turn her mind to familial peace and harmony.”
The duchess clapped her hands and brought them together at her breast, her gaze glittering with happiness. “Oh, you dear child, I knew you would understand my anguish and work to vanquish it. Thank you.”
Violet dipped her head. “My pleasure, Your Highness.”
The duchess swept toward the door, leaving Violet’s mother to follow.
But she didn’t immediately shadow her mistress’s footsteps.
Instead, her mother walked closer to Violet, her eyes blazing with undisguised warning. “I will be watching you. Do not, for one minute, make the mistake of considering this position your own. You are nothing without me and never will be. You would be a fool to ever think otherwise.”
Violet locked gazes with her mother, her heart racing with suppressed fury. God, how I hate her.
With a dismissive tut, her mother turned on her heel and hurried from the room.
Violet slowly followed her mother into the grand, red-carpeted corridor. The lit chandeliers belied the darkness churning inside of her, and she looked heavenward, willing forth her previous elation. This change had to mean something. She would make it mean something.
She looked left and right and slowly smiled.
Once confident she was entirely alone, Violet lifted her skirts and danced a little jig, whispering over and over, “I’m the queen’s housemaid. Bye, bye, mother dear. Bye, bye, forever,” before she buried her euphoria and hurried after her mother, unable to entirely wipe away her smile.
Chapter Two
James Greene eased back from the voluptuous curves of lady-in-waiting, Abigail Kingsley and subtly tilted his face away from her searching lips.
From where they were hidden behind a marble pillar, he peered along the corridor as Abigail proceeded to slide her fingers over his chest and nip his earlobe. Narrowing his eyes, James watched Violet Parker almost break into a run in her haste to catch up with her mother and the Duchess of Kent.
How in the world the extraordinarily pretty housemaid hadn’t seen him and Abigail, he had no idea. Violet had practically stood right beside the pillar as she squealed and danced and whispered. Even though he had absolutely no idea how on earth it could have happened, Violet’s apparent elevation to the queen’s household was all to James’s good fortune. After all, as Lord Melbourne’s assistant, James spent considerably more time in the queen’s company than he did the duchess’s.
And he was becoming mightily frustrated at failing to turn Mistress Parker’s eye in his direction.
A fingertip to his chin turned his head, and he looked into Abigail’s dark, smoldering eyes. “What is so interesting?” she asked.
He glanced toward the corridor. “Did you not hear that? Violet Parker could have been mistaken for a mouse being strangled.”
“Oh, who cares about Violet Parker? She’s a nobody.” Abigail sighed and tugged him forward by his lapels. “Kiss me again, you scoundrel.”
James gently grasped her wrists and lowered them, his mind still halfway along the corridor. Violet Parker was hardly a nobody in his eyes. How could anyone be when they had hair that shone ochre in the candlelight and gold beneath the sun? Not to mention eyes so blue a man could barely bring himself to look at them and not feel he was falling head-first into an ocean.
He peered into the corridor again as though he might conjure Violet’s miraculous reappearance. A nobody, she was not. A conundrum? Most definitely. Despite managing to exchange a few words with her now and then, most of the time whenever they passed in the corridors and gardens of Windsor, Violet looked through him as though he were invisible.
“James, what is wrong with you?” Abigail twisted her arms from his grip, her lips pouting. “Is a lady in waiting not sufficient distraction from a servant girl?”
“Of course, you are,” he said, before pressing a kiss to her cheek. “But I must go before my absence from the office is noticed. I will undoubtedly come by you again soon.”
“But, James—”
He emerged into the corridor, adjusting his jacket and smoothing his necktie, just as Lord Melbourne strode closer, his dark head bowed to the papers in his hand.
James stood tall. “Good afternoon, sir.”
Melbourne looked up, his blue eyes somewhat distracted. “Ah, Greene, just the person. The queen is agitated. Could you see to it that her horse is made ready for her to take a short ride in an hour or so?”
