“The column of conversational topics,” Violet stressed, “that are not elephant related does not include a discussion of the elephant-shaped hole in the conversation!”
Amanda was watching them with a quizzical look on her face. “Good heavens,” she said in awe, turning to Sebastian. “You’re good at that. You distracted Aunt Violet into an irrelevant argument without even lifting a finger.”
Violet sniffed, recalling suddenly that they were standing in the path in the middle of Hyde Park.
“I deserve no such credit,” Sebastian said. “It’s just that this entire conversation has gone elephant-shaped. It started with elephants, it continued with elephants…it’s elephants all the way down.”
“Large elephants,” Violet agreed.
Sebastian nodded in pretend sobriety. “All my elephants are large.”
“Sebastian,” she said in agony, but at least this wasn’t a direct reference to seduction. “You can’t—we can’t—” But she didn’t know how to finish that sentence. You can’t try to cajole me into forgetting what you said. “I’m going to explode,” she muttered. “Into a cloud of dust and despair.”
“Don’t do that,” Sebastian said, looking at her in mock worry. “It’s such a nice day, and I’d hate to have the weather ruined.”
She glared at him. She had to, or she’d find herself laughing. She covered her mouth. “No more elephants.”
“If you insist.” He looked off and away. “Here’s a topic of conversation that isn’t about elephants at all. I’ve been wishing I could talk to about it in any event. So, shipping—”
If there was a more baffling change of subject, Violet didn’t know it. “Shipping?”
“Yes. You know. Ships. Floating things that displace water and carry cargo? Using the method of least squares, I’ve begun to—”
“Method of least what?” Violet’s reluctant amusement washed away. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” She could have kicked him. The Countess of Cambury didn’t know anything about numerical methods. She wasn’t supposed to know maths at all. If he didn’t want to talk to her about science when they were alone, he damned well wasn’t going to broach the subject in public.
“Never mind,” Sebastian said with a sigh. “Just some figures. You wouldn’t understand.”
“Indeed. Save your mathematics about boats for your friends, Mr. Malheur. I’m busy.”
He frowned, opened his mouth, and then shut it again.
Amanda frowned. “I can’t tell if you two are fighting with each other, or if this is your normal mode of conversing.”
“It’s normal,” Violet replied.
But as she spoke, Sebastian said, “We’re fighting.”
An awkward moment passed. He met her eyes.
“We’re not fighting,” Violet contradicted mulishly. “We’re having a minor diplomatic discussion over…nomenclature.”
He took off his hat and rubbed his hand through his hair, mussing it in a way that she found irksome and adorable all at once. She refused to think him adorable.
“Look, Violet,” he said. “I know that there are…reasons why we might be uncomfortable with one another at the present. But we must try to be civil. Oliver’s getting married in a few days. We’ll have to see each other. Truce for now?”
Oliver’s wedding. They’d be together for hours. He’d have all that time to cajole her back into their easy friendship. Look what he’d managed with five minutes of non-elephant-related conversation. Violet looked away. “That won’t pose a problem,” she said tonelessly.
Sebastian knew her better than anyone else. At those words, he gasped and took a step forward. “You’re not thinking of staying away?” His voice dropped dangerously low.
“Why? Oliver isn’t my childhood friend.” She felt a fat lump in her throat as she spoke. “He’s yours. Very well. You get him.”
“Jane is your friend, in case you’ve forgotten, and as for Oliver—”
“Miss Jane Fairfield,” Violet snapped, “only thinks I’d make a good friend because she is known for her poor taste.”
The instant the words were out of her mouth, Violet knew she’d said a terrible thing. She stopped. Swallowed. Put her hands over her mouth and let out a breath.
God, she was a hateful woman. A hateful, horrible, selfish woman. She liked Jane. It was just… She was feeling so snappish. What else could anyone expect? Her world was falling to pieces, and she had to pretend that it didn’t even belong to her.
“Damn it, Violet,” Sebastian growled.
“Don’t curse in front of the child.”
“Damn it,” he repeated. “We would miss you. I’ll miss you.”
She looked up at that, her heart in her throat. And that’s when she noticed what she hadn’t seen before—the dark circles under his eyes, the too-pale look to his face. She’d been so wrapped up in her own hurt that she’d failed to see his.