by Beth Byers
Victor, of course, immediately began to argue.
“Go, Victor,” Violet snapped. “It’ll be fine.”
“Vi,” Victor started, and she shot him such a furious look that he flinched and left, but he kept the door open.
Jack snorted at the sight of the open door and turned to Violet. There was an unlit fire in the fireplace, so he lit it before taking a seat.
“No,” Violet told him, as he started to arrange the two seats near the fire into a sort of upright bed.
“I can see you from here.”
“You can see me from beside me.”
“Your father and brother might slaughter me.”
“The last I heard,” Violet told him with a smile, “we are getting married in three months. I’m not saying that we need to—ah—” She blushed brilliantly and then muttered, “I just think it might be all right if I—if we—”
Jack stood, lifted Violet into his arms and carried her to the bed. The covers had been pulled back and he set her down. He grinned at her for a moment before leaning down and kissing her forehead. Then he took her thick quilt and pulled it up to her chin.
“Jack?” she asked, but he rounded the bed and joined her, sitting upright against her headboard on top of the blankets.
She turned onto her side, propped her head on her hand, and shook her head at him.
“Yes?”
She wasn’t quite sure how to say it. She was both very ready for and very nervous about their wedding night, and she knew he’d committed to himself to wait until after their wedding. She wasn’t quite sure why, but she thought it might be that pedestal he’d put her on. She was all right with his pedestal, since he was on one of her own making.
“I want you to hold me,” she told him honestly, biting her lip. Her gaze was to the side, so she didn’t see him stand, take off his tie and jacket and then lay on her bed once again. A few moments later, he lay down next to her and she snuggled closer, placing her head on his chest below his shoulder where she could hear his heartbeat.
After a long moment, he wrapped his arm around her. She took a deep breath in and realized that not so long from now this might be how she slept every night. She trembled.
“Do you want children right away?” she asked.
“Do you?”
“I don’t know,” Violet admitted. “I think I might once we meet Violet Junior. What do you want?”
Jack kissed the top of her head and tangled their fingers together. “Just you.”
Before Violet could reply, Rouge leapt onto the bed and wormed her way between Violet and Jack, tail wagging. “Looks like Rouge objects.”
Jack kissed the top of her head. Their murmured conversation eventually ended when Violet succumbed to exhaustion. Before she fell asleep, she got used to the feel of Jack checking her pulse and pressing to just below her collarbones to check her rate of breathing. She had little doubt as sleep pulled her under that Jack would spend what remained of the night continuing to check her breathing and pulse until he was utterly certain she was well.
Chapter 7
“Your man is here,” Victor told Jack, waking Violet, who gasped. She glanced around blankly. She could only be certain of the fact that she had been sleeping like a baby. Her body still felt heavy, and her brain wanted to curl into Jack’s side and sink back into sleep. Jack, she saw, was reading a book next to her. It took her a moment to realize her wrist was in his hand, and he’d been monitoring her pulse the whole night through.
At some point, he’d reached over and taken one of the books, a favorite Edgar Rice Burroughs story, on the table next to her bed and turned on the lamp to read by, but she had entirely slept through it. She had thought that she would certainly have nightmares. Especially with the look of sort of horrified agony in the too-silent Mrs. Russell’s gaze the previous day. Violet could only imagine how terrible it must be to be in pain and be unable to speak.
Vi shook off the memory. Victor was standing at the end of the bed with something of a smirk, but his gaze was worried as he asked Jack, “Is she all right?”
“Her pulse and breathing were fine all night. No signs of nausea or confusion. Except for right now.” His lips twitched as Violet blinked rapidly, rubbing at her eyes. She felt as though the chains of sleep were still tugging at her.
Victor huffed out in relief. “Your man brought you a suit, Hamilton Barnes, and the doctor from the previous evening. They would very much like to speak with you. I thought you might like to use my razor and what not, so I had Hargreaves set them up in the breakfast room. They’ll be bringing in strong coffee and bacon in a few minutes.”
“Did they say why they were here so early?” Jack asked, as he rose from the bed. “It can’t be good.”
Violet bit her bottom lip at the thought. She’d rather go back to fighting with her stepmother instead of facing whatever had brought Hamilton to Victor’s door so early.
She slid out of the bed and hurried to the bath. She would dress and meet them downstairs as well to see what was going on. When she finished brushing her teeth and washing her face, she exited the bath to discover Jack and Victor were both gone. At some point Beatrice must have gathered the dog. The fire had been tended and Violet saw that the few things she’d left out had been put away.
Violet glanced through her armoire at the dresses that were pressed and prepared and chose a navy blue day dress that flattered her slim figure but wasn’t too flashy. It was a relief to concentrate on a task as mundane— but to her exciting—as choosing a dress for the day. It helped to stabilize her.
Violet had little doubt that her brother had appeared randomly over the course of the night. He looked almost as tired as Jack. She would have done the same if it were Victor who was at risk and Kate watching him. She would have fretted over Jack if it were him who had an episode with the doctor looking on. She didn’t blame either Jack or Victor for hovering.
She dressed quickly once again. This time, she left her freckles out to shine rather than powdering them as she usually did, knowing that Jack liked them. One of the times she’d awoken from sleep the previous evening, she’d felt him tracing them with his index finger. She’d slipped back into sleep to the tender touch.
She drew on her brows, darkened her lashes, and put a touch of pink balm on her lips, then hurried down the stairs.
When she stepped into the breakfast room, the gentlemen rose. She smiled around at them. “Good morning. Doctor, Ham, Jack.”
Victor and Kate weren’t in the room. Violet made herself a plate of food, a cup of coffee, and joined Jack at the table. He smiled at her, and she grinned at the sight of his already empty plate. She had little doubt he was on—at the least—his second cup of coffee. They were, both of them, overly fond of Turkish coffee. When you added in the sleepless night for Jack, Violet felt they were both excused from overindulging that morning.
Violet lifted her brows, silently asking him to explain why the gentlemen were here. “There’s a reason to believe that Mrs. Russell has been poisoned.”
“How?” she asked, trying to control her reaction. An accident—even a terrible one—wouldn’t give her nightmares. She wanted to look forward to the arrival of Victor’s baby without feeling like the poor child was doomed before she even came into the world. “Was it intentional?”
“We’re still determining the details,” Jack told her. “I’ll be going back to the club this evening before they open to speak with the staff, and I’d like to talk to Miss Russell. Hamilton sent someone round to the house, but she isn’t there.”
“She moved into a hotel,” Violet said, hoping that Rita wasn’t the poisoner. “I’m not sure she would be there either way. Perhaps she’s at the hospital with her father?”
“Mrs. Russell’s sister is with her. Mr. Russell left. He doesn’t seem to be anywhere.”
“Was he also affected?”
Jack shook his head, and the doctor explained. “We spoke with him the previous evening. They had very
little overlap. It seems that he chose the seafood, and she had something much simpler.”
Violet could imagine how that must have gone. To be honest, Violet imagined that the spoiled, childlike Mrs. Russell probably refused the exotic flavors offered by the Savoy and complained that the food there was unpalatable. Had she eaten bread and whined about Violet and Jack refusing to share a table with them?
“What are you going to do?” Violet asked them. “Is this a case?”
“That remains to be seen, Vi,” Hamilton said. “I suppose if it is, Jack will be the natural investigator.”
Violet nodded and then suggested, “I might be able to find Miss Russell.”
Hamilton’s and Jack’s gazes met and both of them tried and failed to hold back a wince. “Perhaps,” Violet added, “Jack would want to come with me as I did?”
Hamilton huffed. “We only want you to be safe, Vi.”
“I can avoid trying to find her,” Violet offered. “To be clear, however, I’d rather help your hunt of a new friend than fight with my stepmother about the wedding.”
Hamilton hadn’t met Lady Eleanor yet, but Violet was already worried about preparing him for the condescending rudeness he’d experience when he did.
“I’d like you to check Violet over again,” Jack told the doctor. “If she’s recovered, I’ll keep her with me.”
“She needs quiet and peace, not work,” the doctor told Jack, as if Violet weren’t sitting right there.
“She needs to feel safe,” Jack replied. “We are—all of us—aware that she’s having a version of shellshock. She’s seen too many bodies and encountered too many murderers and been attacked too many times.”
“She has hardly been to war,” the doctor scoffed. “It’s only a woman’s nerves.”
“You don’t get to judge what she’s experienced,” Jack snapped coldly. “You have none of the details, and they are none of your business.”
“I’d hardly say that,” the doctor with a snide tone. “I am a doctor.”
“Then why don’t you make sure she doesn’t have whatever Mrs. Russell has. Leave the rest of her care to the doctor who knows her and those who are aware of what we’ve been through.”
The doctor flushed and his eyes narrowed on Jack with an arrogance that proclaimed Jack a big, dumb man needing to be put in his place. “‘We’ now? I didn’t see you sent into a round of shock by a child crying.”
Violet blushed furiously. She both wanted to hide behind Jack and box the doctor’s ears. However, Violet was not one to hide. And she did know how to box ears, at least verbally.
“I’ll have Victor call our own doctor, Jack. This man is clearly better suited to proclaiming his skills rather than practicing them. ”
“I can certainly look you over.” The doctor sniffed. “Come now.”
“Get out,” Violet replied, smiling sweetly with her teeth bare. “Don’t come back.”
“Don’t be an idiot.”
Jack began to reply, his expression harsh, but Violet placed a hand on his shoulder. “I believe I asked you to leave my house.” Her tone was even and cool despite the burning on her cheeks. “Certainly an educated man such as the doctor you claim to be can understand the King’s English.”
The doctor rose, striding angrily towards the door and muttering about hysterical women as he did.
“Thank you, Jack,” Violet told him, rising to refill her own coffee and taking his cup as well. “What an unpleasant man. Ham, would you like more tea? Or are you drinking coffee?” The simple act helped to calm her, both of her anger and her embarrassment.
He nodded and handed over his cup for more Earl Grey tea. She was well aware that Jack would want the family doctor called, and she wasn’t going to make him fight with her over it. Besides, it was very early, and she guessed that Rita Russell had escaped to that Piccadilly Ladies Club if she wasn’t at the hotel or her home.
The family doctor arrived rather quickly, as they’d reached him before he left his house for his office. He looked Violet over carefully with Jack, Victor, and Kate hovering.
“It must be nice to be so beloved,” the doctor said, as he shined his light in Violet’s eyes. “What lovely eyes you have. This dark brown is unmatched except, of course, by that brother of yours.” He glanced up. “Her eyes are clear with her pupils responding normally. No concerns there.”
He listened to her heart and checked her reflexes and talked to her about the blues and her nightmares. “I understand the depth of your travails, given the extent of your previous injuries,” he confessed later in the parlor. They had tea things around them. “I’m hardly surprised you’re having nightmares, Violet. Of course you are. Any person who wasn’t called to fight against such evils like your Jack or the police would be having them. Those who are called struggle too. They simply bury it in anger or too much drinking or other activities. Jack’s guess of shellshock isn’t too far wrong.”
“What do I do?” Violet asked.
“There isn’t any prescribed course of action. Doctors are trying different things the world over for our soldiers who suffer. Some use drugs, some use physical activity, some use quiet. My thoughts on the matter are hardly agreed upon.”
“What are they?” Jack asked.
“I think she should try to be active, try to find a hobby like painting or gardening. Something more than your books, my dear, as those have been work for you, I imagine. You don’t have to be good at playing an instrument or painting or gardening to find solace in it. One of my patients does very well with journaling. Another has given up all alcohol and sweets. He eats only vegetables and grains.”
Violet glanced at Jack and then back at the doctor. “Well, I don’t want to do that.”
The doctor laughed. “Some days will be better. Some worse. This isn’t hysteria or women’s megrims. Your soul is struggling, my dear. You’ve been part of terrible things. Time, distance, love and the good things of life will help your soul to recover.”
“And the rest of us?” Jack asked.
“Give her the space to have bad days and give her reasons to have good ones. Violet, you will be fine. I suspect you’ll be sleeping quite a bit better in the next few months.” There was something of a wicked grin on his face as he glanced at Jack. He patted her hand as he rose. “Newlyweds the world over sleep better than most, especially those who have been thoroughly threatened by an earl.”
“You know about that?” Violet demanded.
“I treat Tomas St. Marks. I merely inferred.”
Chapter 8
Rita wasn’t at the hotel. It was about the most perfect hotel Violet had ever visited. There were gargoyles on the roof, arched windows, and a uniformed bellman who might be the most beautiful man that Violet had seen. She paused in sheer shock and Jack glanced back, followed her gaze, and then shook his head.
“He’s lovely. Let’s find Rita.”
“I need another few minutes,” Violet said, noting how the doorman preened a little under her gaze. “Oh, no. I’m done.”
“Are you sure?” he asked dryly.
She grinned at Jack. “He’s prettier than you, but I just like you.”
“Love, you mean,” Jack told her.
“That too.” She pressed up on her toes and daringly put a kiss on his cheek despite the busy street. “Shall we go hunt down our missing bird?”
Jack tugged her back into motion, and they walked up the half circle of stairs that narrowed into the double doors. The doors were a solid, dark wood that shone with polish. The pretty doorman opened the door before they reached it and bowed slightly as they entered. Violet felt the overwhelming weight of the man’s gaze. She wasn’t sure if she’d been found wanting or not, but she didn’t care.
They approached the man behind the counter in the lobby, and again, Violet felt the silent appraisal. Did her expensive shoes, her fur-trimmed coat, or the diamond on her hand cause the polite nod and smile they received?
“Sir. Madam,” the man gr
eeted.
Violet squeezed Jack’s arm as she said, “Hello, I am Lady Violet Carlyle. I referred Miss Russell to the hotel. Is she in her room?”
“Good morning, my lady,” the man said even more politely. “Miss Russell left very early this morning.”
“To the Piccadilly Ladies Club?” Violet asked smoothly, with an air of pure Lady Eleanor arrogance.
“Yes, my lady.”
“Wonderful,” Violet told him. She glanced at Jack. He slid a hand across the counter, and Violet had little doubt that he’d left a rather substantial tip.
As they left, she asked, “Greasing the hinges of his mouth for later?”
Jack smirked. “Not as effectively as that title of yours.”
She grinned evilly and winked. “Shall we be good and go hunt her down? Or shall we stop at that chocolatier across the way and indulge?”
“This isn’t an official case, and perhaps chocolate and a friendly ear would help Miss Russell remember what happened.”
“I like how you think,” Violet told him, enjoying the feel of his bicep under her hand. They hurried across the street and bought too much chocolate. The piece they were offered to sample was enough for Violet to order a large box for Denny and Lila and two for Victor’s house, one for Violet, one for Victor and Kate. She arranged for delivery; then they took a box for Rita and a small one to share.
“The ones with blueberry are my favorite,” Violet told Jack after one melted in her mouth. “I do love candied blueberries or however they make that creamy stuff in the middle.”
Jack’s chocolate had been painted with gold leaf and infused with coffee. Violet was sure it had been excellent with the bitter coffee smoothed by the sweet milk chocolate, but she didn’t regret her choice.
It wasn’t far to the Piccadilly Ladies Club, so they decided to walk. It wasn’t raining, but it was chilly. Violet tucked herself into Jack’s warmth, having little doubt that he’d suggested walking because of the doctor’s comment about being active. She guessed he’d be taking her on rambles in the country, horseback riding, bicycling, and swimming far more often. Perhaps she’d find the jiu jitsu instructor suggesting lessons more often.
