by Beth Byers
“I have objections. I need the big formal event so people realize Kate really is mine. They’ll keep thinking it’s a joke. Especially when they meet her and realize she could have done so much better than me.”
“If we’re going home,” Violet told the room, “we really do need to go dancing tonight. Dinner at The Savoy, dancing, and cocktails. One last moment of freedom.”
“We’re motoring down,” Victor announced. “Drag your auto out of the garage, Tomas. If we’re going to the family prison—”
“Home,” Violet said.
“—we’ll need an escape,” Victor finished, ignoring Violet. “And an excess of gin. It’s wonderful that I’ve just received my latest shipment of rum.”
Chapter Two
“What’s all this now?” Jack asked Violet, tangling his finger with hers. He’d pressed a kiss on her cheek since they had an audience of their friends and her siblings, and she snuggled a little nearer, appreciating his bulk, which made her feel infinitely better. There was something about those wide shoulders towering over Violet that felt as though he could shield her from anything. Loving him was inevitable, but she admitted that knowing he was clever, honorable, and kind made her all the more secure in his affections. His brilliant mind and penetrating gaze were always bent towards her interests, making her feel as though no one could be more treasured than she.
“Isolde, Tomas, and Gerald have returned. We’ve been called home. Well, Victor and I have been called home. We’ll be dragging Isolde and Gerald with us. It seems that Tomas goes where Isolde goes, so he’s coming too,” she told him, smiling at him. She’d inserted the part about Tomas, so Jack was aware that the man who’d once thought to love Violet had thought better of it.
Vi fluttered her lashes teasingly because she knew he hated it. With a smirk and a wink, she added, “I suspect we can blame your one-time love and her clever turn of phrase for our summons. And possibly also that a zozzled Victor told our cousin, Algernon, that we were both engaged to be married.”
“Algernon told your father?” Jack guessed.
Violet shrugged. “I would guess he told Uncle Kingsley who told Father. Probably in a way that was uncomfortable and embarrassing. Uncle Kingsley has never gotten over the bulk of Aunt Agatha’s fortune being left to Victor and I rather than Algie. Or, preferably, himself.”
“Home?” Denny glanced at his wife, Lila, and grinned lazily. “I told you they’d be called home. We can come, right? Don’t say no. I am almost as excited about you getting the diatribe from the good Lady Eleanor as I was for that nonsense with dear Emily and the killers.”
“Only Daniel Morgan was a killer,” Violet reminded Denny, who had pulled his wife close to him and was bouncing on his toes with excitement. “The rest were only periphery.”
Denny waved his hand aside—for him, the fact was of little import. “Details.”
“To hear Miss Allen tell it,” Lila said, wicked mischief in her gaze, “you must have been the engineer of these deaths. I heard it when I was shopping earlier today. ‘Did you hear of Lady Violet? She’s mad with power and manipulating would-be killers.’”
Violet laughed, but Jack grunted in irritation. “I suppose I should care more about that article.”
“You will care more after Stepmother gets ahold of her. Kate!” Victor’s beloved had entered the parlor. “I wondered where you were.”
“Gin and Rouge found me at the door,” Kate said. “I had to rub doggie bellies and tell them pretty stories.” She walked across the parlor, brilliant in her emerald green evening gown, and tucked her hand into the crook of Victor’s arm. He laid his hand over the top of hers as though he had always done that.
“The others are meeting us at The Savoy,” Victor said. “Giles is ready with the auto. Shall we go? I am going to over-indulge before we return home and have our every move, morsel, and drink examined.”
Kate gave him a baffled look, asking Violet, “It can’t be that bad, can it?”
“Oh, it is!” Denny chuckled and rubbed his hands together. “Let’s go. I’m starving. Lila won’t let me just eat and nap. She made me walk with her today, and then I had to eat a salad and soup. Salad! Greens! Not a single steak or piece of ham. I may faint if we don’t hurry.”
“You’re fat, love,” Lila told Denny. “Your buttons are straining and you may just split your pants while we dance.”
Violet choked on her laughter, and Jack had to rub his hand up and down her back to help her catch her breath. Or maybe he only took the opportunity to do so. She grinned at the idea as he asked, “Are you going to tell them we’re engaged?”
“I already told the people who matter, darling,” Violet answered. “You asked Father for his blessing, which he gave. I suspect the only one who doesn’t know is Stepmother because not even Father wants to hear the diatribe and not even Father can silence her.”
“Violet,” Victor said, in between dances. He set aside his potted shrimps on the nearest table and downed his cocktail. There was something in his tone that drew her attention. Something was wrong. Her gaze narrowed on him.
The club was crowded with bodies while one of the most gorgeous women Violet had ever seen wailed her song over the sound of dancing. She had to step close to him to hear what he was saying.
It was so hot in the club that she had only water with ice, and she downed it in one mighty go before she addressed her brother. “Did you lose Kate? What’s wrong?”
“She’s in the powder room, following some piece of Algie’s.”
Violet’s brows lifted. “Piece? Women aren’t pieces, you fiend.”
“Sleuthing,” Victor added, with emphasis to demand she focus on what he thought mattered. “Kate’s been around you too much, my love.”
“Sleuthing about what?”
Victor glanced around for Jack, saw him at the bar, and said, “Darling one, Stepmother is having a house party while we’re there.”
“Oh?” Trepidation ran down Vi’s spine.
“It seems the invite to this party was for some well-connected lads. Handsome young fellows who are, perhaps, willing to strap on a ball and chain.”
“For Isolde?” Violet asked, even though she knew it wasn’t correct.
“No,” Victor said, stepping back as Violet’s face flushed with rage.
“She might not know that we’re engaged,” Violet told him, referring to her stepmother, smacking his shoulder even though it wasn’t his fault, “but she is well aware that I have no interest in other men.”
“An oversight,” he suggested, but they knew it wasn’t so. Lady Eleanor was going to throw well-connected and probably destitute men at Violet until the stubborn woman saw the light. Even then, she’d probably do the equivalent of commenting on the nice night and refusing to admit the sun was high overhead—or in other words, Lady Eleanor wouldn’t acknowledge Violet’s engagement until Violet had a babe in arms and an updated will. What Violet didn’t understand was why Lady Eleanor wanted Violet to throw Jack over for one of these men.
Jack returned with a cocktail for Violet. “I asked the barman like you requested, and he suggested this. It’s a French75.” Jack handed Violet a sort of creamy yellow drink with a curl of lemon peel in it, and Violet took it with glee.
Vi grinned at him and tried to hide her rage. He was too aware of her, and she felt his gaze flicking over her face as strongly as a caress, but she avoided meeting his eyes and sniffed the drink. “Ooh, lemon?”
Jack nodded. Of course it was lemon, it had a lemon peel. She was just trying to distract him.
She took a sip and paused. She let the drink set in her mouth as her gaze fixed on her cousin, Algernon, who sneered. He was beyond Jack’s shoulder and looking her over. Violet glanced at Victor, jerking her gaze to Algie, and Victor followed her eyes. Behind Algie was his too-often companion, Theodophilus. He’d once cornered Violet and left her bruised, a circumstance that Victor had already repeatedly made Theo pay for.
Victor’
s head tilted, and Theodophilus flushed, but he lifted a challenging brow.
“Excuse me.” Victor handed Violet his cocktail.
“Don’t get arrested,” Violet told him.
“What’s this now?” Jack demanded. Violet placed her hand on his arm, holding him to her as Victor stepped away.
“Don’t worry your pretty little head about it,” she said. “If Victor gets arrested, it’ll matter far less than if you do, my lad.”
They watched as Victor crossed the room, grabbed Theodophilus by the lapels, and dragged him out of the club.
“Oh,” Isolde said, approaching on Tomas’s arm. Her gaze followed the lion version of Victor. “Who is that? My goodness, did he do something to Kate? Victor does look fierce, doesn’t he?”
“Not to Kate,” Jack ground out, as Violet held him even tighter.
“Don’t worry your pretty little heads about it,” Violet told them all.
Tomas snorted. “I’ll just follow Victor and see if he needs a hand.”
Violet clung tighter to Jack when he tried to join them and whispered, “Why don’t you let them do this part?”
“It’s my job now,” Jack growled, wrapping his arm around her waist.
“Jack, you work with Scotland Yard.”
“It’s my job to protect you,” he muttered.
“But you love detecting,” Violet told him, dropping her voice low as Kate rejoined them. “You don’t want to cause trouble at the Yard.”
“Victor stepped outside,” Violet told Kate vaguely, waggling her brows so Kate would know something was up. Handing Kate Victor’s drink, Violet suggested, “Perhaps we should go home for quiet drinks after we gather up Victor.”
Jack’s gaze flicked to Violet. “I’ll get a black cab.”
Violet grabbed at him, but he escaped her.
“Will he pound that fellow?” Isolde asked. “Bloody him up a bit? Perhaps get the boys thrown into the slammer?”
Violet shot Isolde a glare, which made her drop her expression to a smooth compliance with only a sparkle in her gaze to admit to mischief.
With the gents all gone except for Gerald, who was dancing with a slim, ginger girl, Algernon approached.
“What’s all this is, now?” Algie asked.
“What is all this?” Violet demanded, eyeing Algie like the worm he was.
“I didn’t come with him, Vi. He hunted me up. He’s been following me around like a street dog. Vi…” Algie glanced around. “He’s well-connected. I’ve been debating…um…trying to find a way to warn you.”
Violet’s gaze narrowed. “She didn’t.” Violet didn’t need him to nod to know that her stepmother had, in fact, invited one of the few men who’d made Violet truly afraid. Her heart skipped a beat, and she would have stumbled if she weren’t standing still.
“She did,” Algie said. “I overheard it. I didn’t think Theo would have told me. We aren’t friendly these days. He was prosing on about how…”
Violet heart was racing, and her vision had narrowed down only to his face. Her home.
“He’s leaving tomorrow.” Algie blushed and gazed at the ground. “Well he was. They expect you to come around then too. There’s a semi-open invite for Theo and a few others from what I’ve heard.”
Violet laid her hand on his arm for balance as she breathed slowly in and hooted out a breath. It wasn’t helping. She wanted Jack. Blindly, Violet turned to the exit.
“Violet,” Algie added, “all your stepmother wants is well-connection in who you marry. And preferably idle, like the aristocrats of the last few generations. She cares little about anything beyond that. I know you know her, but…be careful. Some of those gents she invited are— Well, I wouldn’t want my sister or my cousin around them.”
Violet nodded without looking back and made her way to Jack and Victor. She found the three of her boys in the alleyway near the entrance, smoking cigarettes. Violet walked straight up to Jack and wrapped her arms around his waist.
She didn’t say anything, but she felt him tense since her actions were totally out of normal behavior for her.
“What’s wrong?” Victor demanded.
“Mother invited that fellow you just, ah—educated—to the house.”
“What’s this now?” Victor’s voice was a cool, low threat.
Violet simply pressed her face into Jack’s chest and breathed in. She’d faced more lately than Theodophilus Smythe-Hill, but he’d been one of the first to teach her how much physically weaker women were than men.
“No,” Victor said. “Tomas?”
Violet let Jack warm her while her brother went to re-bruise his knuckles against Theodophilus Smythe-Hill’s face.
Chapter Three
The earl’s house was one of those brick and stone monstrosities that had been handed down from the dawn of forever ago through the generations to the current day. Violet was sure that someone knew when the Carlyles built it or took possession or however owning this beast came about, but she wasn’t that person.
Unlike Gerald, Isolde, and Geoffrey, the twins had been raised mostly by their great-aunt from their mother’s side of the family. Both of the twins could still channel their aristocratic ancestry and pull out generations of self-righteous, self-important sneering when they needed to get their way. Despite that, they hadn’t spent all that much time under the hallowed roof.
In the simplest of descriptions, the house was a rectangle. To be fair, it was huge. You could get lost in the beast and Violet intended to do so. Soon enough, her stepmother would call Violet down to the carpet, and the sheer fact that the woman was inviting snakes like Theodophilus to the house at the same time as Violet and Isolde was reason enough to delay torment.
Outside of the house, in the center of the rectangle, was a grand staircase that led up to doors big enough to ride a horse through. Violet would enjoy her family a lot more if they did ride horses through the house. Lady Eleanor, however, acted as though she had a board strapped to her spine and a stick in other places. Perhaps when Gerald was the earl the family would loosen up.
The rolling acres that led up to the house were sculpted and manicured within an inch of their lives, making sure that even the trees knew that they were aristocratic. The hedges were upright and green, not daring to have a twig out of place. The large pots of flowers were lush and abundant. Anything else would be unacceptable.
There was a fountain in the center of a circular roundabout that was probably stolen from some Roman villa. Perhaps a more upright ancestor had commissioned the thing. The statue was all muscular back and flexing arms with strong, tensed legs. Atlas was holding up the world under the spray of water. Violet glanced at it, taking in the statue so large it matched the size of the house. As always, she appreciated the beauty of the flexed muscles and wondered if her love of Jack’s stature came from a lifetime of this kind of art. A question for when Victor wasn’t in the auto.
Violet smirked at the thought. Victor and Violet might be reflections of each other, the opposite sides of the same coin with matching coloring, sharp features, and slender builds, but he was her brother and he did not want to know why she appreciated Jack’s form.
Which meant, of course, that Violet should have to tell him when he least expected it. Yes, that was the best course. She’d find her chance while they were home and hopefully in view of the statue.
“Are you going to tell her?” Jack asked, his voice low.
Violet pressed herself against his side and looked up at him through her lashes. He was a handsome man. Though sometimes she wondered if he really was or if she was just blinded by her love. To her, however, he was the most attractive man she had ever seen.
“Yes, of course,” Violet said, hoping for a cheery tone and noting it came out more as flinching.
“If we’re actually going to wed, Violet darling, you will have to tell her, or we’ll have to elope and reveal it afterwards.”
Violet laid her head on his shoulder, staring at the hous
e and knowing they should get out of the auto. As she watched, her father’s butler, Smalley, opened the door to the house, stepping back and letting her father exit. “Of course we’re getting married.”
Father looked like the country earl he was. He had a pipe hanging from his mouth and a brown suit that was a bit rumpled but very nice all the same. He stopped at the top of the steps and cocked his head as he examined the auto that was not dispensing his children.
Violet grinned. He was utterly unruffled that they were lingering in the auto rather than rushing up to lavish him with love.
“It’s not that I don’t want everyone to know,” Violet said as Victor’s man, Giles, finally opened Victor’s side of the auto. “It’s that I don’t want her to ruin my happiness. I am proud to be engaged to you, Jack, and I will be proud to be your wife. I just wanted to…savor…all of this. She’ll ruin it. She’ll make it into a fight.”
Denny had driven his own auto, a Silver Ghost, and he had already handed Lila out of the vehicle. They wandered over to look into Victor’s auto, bending down to smirk through the window. Denny opened the door, happily demanding, “Come on now. Don’t cower. Buck up. What did those Americans say? Pull yourself up by your bootstraps, kids.”
Violet’s lips twitched, but Jack said, “I suppose we can’t hide forever.” With that statement, Jack stepped from the auto.
“Let’s run away,” Violet suggested as Jack held out his hand for Violet.
“You’ll have to face her sooner or later, Violet. She’s married to your father.”
Denny’s evil laugh serenaded Violet stepping out and smoothing her dress. “You know her well, old man. Word to the wise: never refer to Lady Eleanor as Vi’s mother.”
“My mother was Penelope Allyn-Carlyle. If we are talking about second mothers, that role was filled by Aunt Agatha when Lady Eleanor declined it. This woman is only married to Father.”
Her father started down the steps as Violet placed her hand on Jack’s arm. As Father reached the bottom, Lady Eleanor came outside. Unlike Father, Violet’s stepmother did not bother to descend the steps. “What is taking so long?”
