Laurel studied herself in the long mirror. She looked like—a lady. Sophisticated and quietly confident and even, amazingly, fashionable. “You are a worker of wonders, madam.” Head high, she left the fitting room, crossed the showroom, and opened the door to the gentleman’s parlor.
Kirkland was frowning at a document, but when she entered, he looked up—and froze. In his eyes were surprise, approval, and desire. She slowly pirouetted so that he could see the whole outfit. “Behold Madame Hélier’s work.”
He rose, his gaze locked on her. “You look—exactly as you should. Like a lady. Like a countess. Like a woman who has accomplished important things and deserves all respect.” He smiled. “You also look like a cat in a cream pot. Did you enjoy this more than you expected?”
“I did indeed.” She also realized rather uneasily that she had moved from reluctant wife to a woman who wished to please her husband. She put the thought aside for future consideration. “Madame Hélier made it very easy for me and will keep the number of fittings to a minimum. She’s promised a morning dress and a dinner dress for tomorrow, so I’ll be ready for your friends when you invite them.”
Amusement lurked in his eyes. “Just as you enjoyed this more than you expected, I hope you enjoy my friends more than you think you will.”
Her animation faded. A modiste who was eager to please was very different from devoted friends who would have doubts about Kirkland’s long-absent wife. But at least she would be well dressed for the interrogation.
Moody watched the passengers alight in front of Kirkland House with satisfaction. Captain Hardwick had been right that Kirkland was a bloody lord. Ah, the slave girl climbed out of the second coach. She was as hot a moll as any he’d ever seen. Even Kirkland’s wife, whom Moody remembered as plain, looked worth a poke.
Wouldn’t be long until the captain had his ship in London. Then it would just be a matter of grabbing the slut and sailing off with her. Moody licked his lips. After the captain was done with her, maybe he’d share.
Chapter 25
Violet was finishing her breakfast when Jasper Rhodes approached. He’d been very kind about introducing her to all the servants at Kirkland House, and she suspected that he might have worked behind the scenes to smooth her way.
But they hadn’t really talked since the journey up to London. As Lord Kirkland’s valet, Rhodes was one of the most important members of the household, and he seldom dined in the servants’ hall. When he did, he was the object of attention from two of the young housemaids. Young, pretty, blond housemaids. Violet knew there was little age difference between her and the housemaids, but she felt ages older in experience, and sadly, she’d never be blond.
No matter. There were things she’d like to ask Rhodes, or stories he might find amusing, but she was here to work, not gossip, and lucky she was to have such a fine job. Nonetheless, she smiled when he claimed the empty chair beside her at the breakfast table.
“I’ve scarcely seen you, Violet, busy as we’ve both been,” he said with a contagious smile. “But you’re looking very fine. Do you like being in Kirkland House?”
There was a clean cup across the table, so she poured him tea from the nearest pot. “Everyone has been very kind. I think you had a hand in that, so my thanks.”
He shrugged and took a sip of tea. “I just said I thought you’d fit in well, and from what I hear, you have.”
“Her ladyship is the best mistress I’ve ever had. I’d do anything for her.” Which was true, but perhaps too revealing, so Violet continued, “I haven’t seen much of you, though. You take your meals elsewhere?”
“Sometimes. His lordship has me doing some special work for him.” Not elaborating, Rhodes asked, “What’s this I hear about a self-defense class for females that will be taught in the ballroom this morning?”
“It was Lord Kirkland’s idea. He knows a woman who fights well, and she’s agreed to give us some basic lessons,” she explained. “Every female in the household is invited to attend, from the countess on down.”
Rhodes arched his brows. “Should I be afraid to ask you to go for a walk with me this afternoon since it’s your half day? You may be wanting to practice your lesson on some unworthy male!”
Violet’s pulse beat a little faster. “As long as you behave as a gentleman, you’re safe from me. But is it allowed for us to go out together?”
“As long as we do our jobs well and act responsibly, there’s no problem,” Rhodes replied. “Kirkland treats his servants like adults, not children, and those who want to learn and take on more responsibility are given the chance.”
“I hope his idea becomes popular. In most households, servants are treated like something between children and thieves.” And slaves were treated even worse. “But surely not all of Kirkland’s servants live up to their responsibilities. What then?”
“They get one warning, and if they don’t do better, they’re gone.” Rhodes finished his tea. “That’s rare, though. Most everyone hired here appreciates their luck.”
As Violet did. “Then if it won’t get me discharged, I’d love to go out. We’ve visited some shops and every day I accompany her ladyship when she walks in the park in front of the house, but I’ve done no exploring on my own. I’ve not had the time.” She sighed. “And to be honest, I’ve been afraid to go out alone.”
“That’s wise.” Rhodes frowned. “I’ve learned more about that Captain Hardwick. He’s a nasty piece of work and no mistake. But you’ll be safe with me.”
Having seen how dangerous Kirkland could be, it was easy to believe that his man might have some of the same abilities. Violet smiled with anticipation. “Let’s hope the sun comes out by then.”
“I’ll put in a special order for more sunshine,” Rhodes promised as he rose from his chair. “Till later, then. Enjoy learning how to beat up men.”
Though she didn’t know if she’d enjoy it, she intended to learn as much as she could. But not all men needed beating, and she was increasingly sure that Jasper Rhodes was one of the good ones.
“How did the self-defense class go?” Rhodes asked when they met in the servants’ hall to go for their walk.
Violet gestured at the excitedly talking female servants who were pouring into the servants’ hall. “It was wonderful! Look at how much everyone enjoyed the lesson.”
“You can tell me all about it as we walk.”
“I’d like to eat first.” She studied a basket of fresh baked rolls that sat on a sideboard, ready to be served. “Learning how to beat off attackers gives one an appetite.”
He scooped up two of the rolls and gave her one. “This should hold you until we reach Shepherd Market. It’s nearby and there are good food stalls. As you see, I managed to procure sunshine for you, but I can’t guarantee how long it will last.”
Violet missed the sunshine of Jamaica, but she’d kill herself rather than return there to slavery. She collected her bonnet and shawl and they exited Kirkland House from the rear door, which led to the streets of mews that ran behind the grand houses of Berkeley Square. Equally grand carriages and horses were kept on the ground level of the mews, while grooms and coachmen lived in apartments above. It was a bustling place, though a girl had to watch where she stepped.
As she munched on her fresh roll, Rhodes said, “Tell me about the class.” He took a bite from his own roll. “I want to know what to beware of.”
“Our teacher is Hazel Wilson. I think she works for his lordship, but not here?”
Rhodes nodded. “I know Hazel. You wouldn’t look at her twice in the street, but she is one very capable woman.”
“She certainly is! She and Mrs. Stratton found several old feather beds in the attic and laid them out in the ballroom to cushion any falls.”
“How many of the females in the household attended?”
“All of them!” Violet exclaimed. “Including Mrs. Stratton and her ladyship.”
Rhodes’s brows arched. “That’s . . . disturbing that so m
any women felt the need to learn how to protect themselves.”
“You’ve never been a woman, or you’d understand,” Violet said tartly.
“Guilty,” Rhodes said meekly. “What was Hazel able to teach in one morning?”
Violet considered how best to explain. “She said that self-defense begins in the mind. If you’re out and about, be aware of what’s around you. If a man makes you nervous, pay attention to the feeling and get away or prepare yourself if getting away isn’t possible. If you’re attacked, react immediately. Don’t stand there passive as a rabbit hoping that the big bad wolf won’t hurt you. Scream, kick, bite, shove. Fighting back will be enough to drive some attackers away.”
“Hazel is right. What else did she teach you?” Rhodes asked.
“She said don’t be afraid to get hurt, because you’re apt to be hurt worse by your attacker. Since women can endure the pain of childbirth, they can endure being bruised when fighting to save themselves.”
“That’s good advice,” Rhodes said. “If attacked, fight as hard as you can because in the terror and excitement, you probably won’t feel much pain.”
“What about later?”
He chuckled. “You’ll feel the bruises then, but that’s all right since the fight is over and you’re safe again. What fighting tricks did she show you?”
“She said that learning to fight really well takes a long time, but there are simple things that any woman can do. Stick fingers in the man’s eyes or throat or other soft, vulnerable spots.” Violet made a V with her index and middle finger and jabbed sharply at the air. “Or bend fingers back.”
She took Rhodes’s hand and bent the little finger back until he yanked his hand away hastily and said, “Clever, and you don’t have to be strong to do them. How did her ladyship do with the lessons?”
“Badly,” Violet admitted. “She doesn’t lack courage—I told you how she rescued me from a slave owner. But she found it impossible to strike another person.”
He grimaced. “Truly kind, gentle people aren’t good fighters. How did you do?”
Violet gave a smile that showed her teeth. “Very well. And I have the bruises to prove it.”
“Good. You need to take care of yourself.” Rhodes gestured at a narrow street on the left. “This leads into Shepherd Market. What would you like to eat? The meat-pie maker is one of the best in the city.”
Rhodes was right; the meat pies were delicious. So was the baked jacket potato that dripped with melted butter and fresh herbs, and they washed the food down with the tangy lemonade from another stall. Shepherd Market was like a fair, with music and street performers scattered among stalls that sold food, produce, kitchen goods, and used clothing.
Violet couldn’t remember when she’d had such fun. It was lovely to go out with a man she liked, and who liked her without making a nuisance of himself.
She was eyeing the gingerbread stall when Rhodes said, “Time to go. There’s one more place I want to take you on the way home. A confectioner’s called Gunter’s on the opposite side of Berkeley Square from Kirkland House. They make amazing fancy cakes, but they’re most famous for their ices.”
As they strolled back, enjoying the sunshine, she rather shyly took his arm. It was the first time she’d ever made any kind of advance to a man. He smiled and patted her hand where it rested on his arm, and did nothing to make her regret her action.
As they approached their destination, Rhodes explained, “This is a very fashionable tea shop. See all the carriages pulled up across the street by the park? The ladies eat their ices inside the carriages, their escorts lean against the railings to eat theirs, and waiters scurry back and forth across the street with orders.”
Rhodes waved down a waiter who’d just delivered an order to a carriage and who was heading back into the shop. Violet couldn’t hear what was said, but the waiter nodded and trotted back inside.
“The waiters are fast,” Violet commented as another one darted across the street.
“Because the ices melt quickly. That’s why everyone eats them right here. They’d be drinks if we tried to take them over to Kirkland House.”
After a few minutes’ wait, their waiter returned with their order and Rhodes paid him what Violet suspected was an extortionate amount. Rhodes gave her one of the small dishes, and Violet caught her breath when she saw that the ice was molded in the shape of a delicate pink flower. “How pretty! Let’s sit on that bench behind those trees. It looks fairly private.”
Rhodes agreed, and sure enough, by the time they reached the bench, the ice was starting to melt. Violet settled down in a fluff of skirts and sampled her ice with the small spoon. Her mouth filled with cold deliciousness. “This is wonderful! What’s the flavor? It’s not anything I recognize.”
Rhodes looked at her with a smile that started deep in his eyes. “It’s violet. They do several different flower flavors, and I was hoping that today they’d have violet.”
Violet bit her lip, tears starting in her eyes.
Worried, Rhodes asked, “Would you rather not eat your namesake?”
She blinked back the tears. “It’s just that . . . no man has ever tried to please me like this.”
“I’m glad I’m the first.” He scooped up a spoonful of his ice and offered it to her.
She leaned forward and licked the cold sweetness from his spoon, then offered a spoonful of her ice to him. He accepted it with pleasure.
The ices tasted even better when they exchanged them. Though the amounts were small and soon gone, Violet knew she’d never, ever forget this afternoon.
When they finished, Rhodes neatly stacked the dishes and spoons and set them on the ground below the bench. His gaze holding hers, he said seriously, “Any other girl, and I’d just try to catch a kiss. But because you are who you are, I will ask you whether you mind if I kiss you.”
She caught her breath. “I am not a nice English girl.”
“I know,” he said softly. “That’s why I find you so intriguing.”
She studied his face, which she’d found very average when they’d first met. But the better she knew him, the more attractive she found his intelligent gray eyes, his laugh lines, the quiet competence he radiated.
Their shady corner under the plane trees felt very private. Private enough for a kiss. Wordlessly she leaned forward and touched her lips to his. He tasted of violet ice and kindness and tightly controlled desire.
He caught his breath, then kissed her back and she knew that her life had opened up in ways she’d never dreamed of.
She loved ices, and it was quite possible that she could come to love this man.
Captain Hardwick’s schooner Jamaica Queen looked like any other fast cargo ship moored in the Pool of London. Nothing about the vessel proclaimed that it was a slaver, though when Moody climbed aboard, he thought he smelled the faint, ineradicable stench of transported slaves.
The captain didn’t make Moody wait long this time. He swung around in his chair and barked, “Have you found her?”
Moody nodded. “She lives in Kirkland House in Berkeley Square. I never seen her go out alone, but most days she and Kirkland’s wife walk in the park, usually mid-afternoon. There’s always a footman, but since it’s fancy Mayfair, no one really expects trouble. Shouldn’t be hard to grab the girl and bring ’er here.”
Hardwick pursed his lips. “It would have to be timed to the tide so we could set sail right off. After all the trouble she’s caused me, I want the bitch’s mistress as well, so I’ll need a large coach.” He muttered a filthy oath. “Violet is turning into the most expensive bloody slave I ever bought.”
“She’s a damned fine-lookin’ mort, but by the time you’ve had her for a few months and you’re back in the Indies, you’ll be bored enough to sell ’er. If she’s not damaged, you’ll get most of your money back.”
The captain growled,“But I may want to damage her!”
Moody shrugged. Not his business what Hardwick did with his slav
es. “What do you want me to do?”
“Keep watching. The more I know about their schedule, the easier this will be. When my cargo is ready and the tides are fair, we’ll be ready.” His tongue touched his lip. “I’ve waited bloody long enough!”
Chapter 26
A part from the class in self-defense that convinced Laurel she’d better stay close to a protective man like Kirkland, Laurel had two days of lazy relaxation after visiting Madame Hélier. Kirkland was out a good deal of the days, presumably getting caught up on all the work he’d neglected in pursuit of his long-estranged wife.
That left Laurel free to sleep late, read, walk in the park in front of the house, make music, and nap. Kirkland joined her for meals and sometimes they played the piano for each other, though they didn’t play together again. It was the most peaceful interval she’d had in more years than she could count.
But her holiday was over and it was almost time for the dreaded dinner party. As Laurel regarded her image in the mirror, Violet said, “This upswept style becomes you well, my lady.” She twisted a tendril of hair so it fell just right onto Laurel’s shoulder.
Laurel nodded agreement, but pointed out, “Perfection will vanish as soon as I leave my bedroom.”
Violet smiled. “You will still look very fine and will impress the people who worry you. Now hold still while I brush a little color on your cheeks.”
“I’ve become a painted woman,” Laurel said wryly. But she had to admit that a hint of rouge made her look better, particularly when she was pale with nerves.
When Violet stepped back, Laurel stood and studied herself in the dressing table mirror. Madame Hélier’s dinner gown was the same celestial blue that Kirkland had liked, but the cut and style were far superior to the dress she’d given away after the bloody death in the Zion House garden. She looked elegant in a quietly dignified way, and as close to beautiful as she could manage.
“I have a present for you, Violet. A thank-you for all your efforts to make me appear like a proper countess.” Laurel had placed the Devonshire brown silk in her clothespress, so she retrieved the parcel and handed it to her maid. “I hope you enjoy this.”
Not Quite a Wife Page 17
