by Beth Byers
Chapter Five
Geoffrey looked a lot like Isolde. On their sister, the bone structure, full lips, and coloring looked quite healthy. On Geoffrey, it looked like he desperately needed a day in the sun. His lips looked as though he’d had some sort of reaction to a faulty lipstick. They were too red and too big. But mostly, Violet thought, it was the turn to his expression. Had he always been so sour? He puckered like someone had shoved a lemon in his mouth and he still hadn’t gotten the flavour out.
“Hullo there,” Violet said to him, cocking her head. “Been a while.”
“If it isn’t V.V. Twinnings,” Geoffrey said snidely. His gaze flit over her with so much derision that Violet thought she could feel it.
“If it isn’t a lad who should be at school,” Violet countered. She let him see the corresponding sourness in her expression even though she had a decade on him. “Sent down already? Is it a new record? Didn’t the term just start?”
“I got teased about you,” he said rudely, giving her the side-eye without even trying to hide it. “I took care of the loudmouths, but it ended with me being sent home. Disgraced earl’s child.” His tone, quoting the article, was vicious and dark.
Violet lifted a brow and then looked beyond him, noting that he’d been playing billiards with the other Nelson brother. The younger brother was standing in the shadows of the room, watching their interaction with interest.
“Me?” Violet laughed. She had to hold a hand to her side, laughing so hard it hurt. “Oh boyo—” Violet shook her head, nodded to the Nelson brother who was about one step from taking notes on their interaction. “Don’t be a wart.”
“Mother says to be nice to you so you’ll put me in your will. I’m not sure I will. I’m not sure licking your feet is worth that.”
“It’s not.” Violet’s gaze narrowed on him, and he met her gaze in challenge. “My will has all the money going to charities. They’re far less likely to kill a girl.”
Geoffrey paled. “That’s not true, is it?”
“Indeed,” Violet lied.
Currently all of her money was split evenly between Isolde and Victor. Their oldest brother, Gerald, didn’t need anything as he was getting the majority of the family coffers. Isolde and Victor didn’t need anything either, as they were all receiving something from Father, and Victor had inherited from Aunt Agatha as well. Violet had little concern that her heirs would kill her for the money. She suddenly realized she wouldn’t have the same faith in young Geoffrey and sadness rushed her.
“Not all of it,” Violet told him. “I did leave some to care for my dog, though I suppose I can count on Victor for that, but what if we die at the same time? Sweet Rouge is a girl’s best friend, you know. One must take care of one’s dependents. Oh, and my maid. Beatrice is my angel.”
“You left money for your dog but not for me?” Geoffrey gasped. His too-pale skin flushed in a mottled fashion, leaving him blotchy. Given his paleness, he looked as though he might have caught something terrible. Scarlet fever or the measles. “Your maid?”
“I did indeed.” Violet winked at him and then left the billiards room before she said something that would ruin any relationship they would ever have. She reminded herself that she adored Isolde these days, and for a while there, Violet had been unsure of her.
She supposed she should have introduced herself to the fellow in the corner, but he’d been happy enough lurking and listening. Violet slid out the doorway sideways to avoid the Nelson brother who’d introduced himself and escaped outside. She had expected Jack, Victor, and Kate to appear by now, but they were nowhere to be seen.
Violet glanced around like she was going to break into a house or out of a jail before she hurried down the hallway and darted into the kitchens. Violet found the housekeeper and Cook together as she often had in the past.
“My darlings!” Violet said, holding out her arms. “How I have missed you.”
Cook looked up at Violet over a table of bread dough, and Mrs. Jones, the housekeeper, shot Violet a quelling look.
“What’s all this? Where is the shout of joy? Did you not realize that we’ve come bearing gifts?”
“You usually do,” Cook said with that dry voice. “Chocolate and alcohol. A little of the green would be welcome. You inherited loads of money. Buy a house on the sea and hire me and Margaret.”
Violet grinned. “Father would have a grudge then.”
“I’m not leaving,” Mrs. Jones replied. “When I move to a cottage by the sea, I won’t be working.”
“You’d never take Victor or me seriously anyway.”
Vi really had spent too much time with the servants as a girl. It wasn’t because they weren’t great, although they were. It was because Violet had hated her stepmother, and spending time with anyone else was delightful in comparison. Somewhere during her childhood, Mrs. Jones and Cook had become two of Violet’s favourite people.
They chatted for a while before Vi asked, “How long have they been here?”
The housekeeper glanced at Violet, at Cook, then cleared her throat. “Lady Eleanor suggested you might arrive a few days ago. I think she expected you’d come straight down when the wire was sent.”
Violet laughed, loving that idea. They’d delayed on purpose, gone shopping, attended a play or two. “How bad are the interlopers?”
“Devonsly isn’t so bad. A bit spoiled, like all of you are.” There was a very telling silence after that statement that had Violet lifting her brows. Neither of the women said another word.
Violet gave the women a small smile. “None more so than young Geoffrey. Has he always been such a devilish wart?”
Cook crowed, but the housekeeper, Mrs. Jones, didn’t reply. Violet smirked at them and then added, “You know they’re here for my money.”
“Or something,” Mrs. Jones muttered ominously.
Violet watched Mrs. Jones, but the woman simply pursed her mouth, adjusted her apron, and avoided Violet’s gaze. “Interesting.”
Cook snorted, digging her hands into the dough she was forming.
Violet winked at Cook, who glanced at the housekeeper and said, “You’d be wiser to choose a different fellow if you’re determined to get married.”
“I am,” Violet said. “The money grubbers are not, however, the one I will marry.”
“One?” Cook demanded. “Is there a one?”
“Mmm. Yes. It seems I forgot to explain to my stepmother that I’ve already promised myself to another.”
Mrs. Jones closed her eyes as she took a deep breath. Violet bit the inside of her mouth to hold back a laugh at the expression. Drama was definitely going to ensue, and poor Mrs. Jones would experience all Lady Eleanor’s feelings on the subject.
“The detective?” Cook asked. “We’ve heard some thoughts about that man.”
“Her business is no business of ours.” Mrs. Jones had the smooth servant’s expression on again, which Violet very rarely saw.
Cook glanced at the housekeeper and pursed her lips. “You should turn your eye on the gardens. When everyone goes up to dress for dinner, you might find something interesting.”
Violet’s brows lifted, and she nodded once. “That’s rather soon, isn’t it?” The wicked glance Violet and Cook exchanged made Mrs. Jones sigh.
“You should stay out of it, Helena,” Mrs. Jones said to Cook.
“I’m not going to stand by and watch her ruin her life,” Cook shot back. “She’s our girl.”
Mrs. Jones glanced at Violet. “I don’t want her to be unhappy either. Have a little faith in Lady Violet. She’s never been stupid. We’d have to worry if this circus was for one of the younger ones.”
Cook glanced at Violet, who had cocked her head as she examined Mrs. Jones.
“You need to be careful.” Violet grinned at the duo of servants who she’d known the entirety of her life. “It’s a tricky thing to work here.”
She didn’t expand on working for Lady Eleanor. Both Mrs. Jones and Cook had worked
for the earl long before he’d married Lady Eleanor. Given what Violet knew of her stepmother, Vi expected the transition had been rough.
“I am aching for a walk.” Violet looked up at a sound in the doorway and saw Isolde.
“You are in trouble with Victor and Jack for leaving them with your lads. Jack was…ah…displeased.”
“My lads?” Violet’s lip twitched. “I’m certain they’re not mine.”
Isolde glanced at Violet and then kissed Mrs. Jones and Cook on the cheek even though they tried to swat her away.
“Shouldn’t they be roasting the fatted calf for you?” Violet asked Isolde, lips twitching. “How did you escape your mother, oh beloved-est one? Though…really, excuse me. That title does go to yon young wart, Geoffrey.”
Isolde rubbed her hands together. “I have my ways.”
It was notable, Violet thought, that Isolde didn’t defend Geoffrey. Of all the siblings, Isolde knew Geoffrey best. Violet glanced at Isolde, at the others, and said, “It is almost time to dress for dinner.”
Isolde only nodded, recognizing the certain something in Violet’s tone. “What are you up to?”
“Who me?” Violet winked and walked out the kitchen door to the back gardens. She glanced around, searching for Jack and Victor. Neither of them would welcome her sneaking around without them, and Violet was curious about just what she was supposed to be seeing in the gardens.
If Cook sent her out there, it must be something that was at least moderately scandalous. Violet had always liked the somewhat salacious twinkle in Cook’s eyes. She was a woman who caught the littlest of details and put them together into a picture that few would see.
Violet caught movement near the kitchen garden by the hedges. She considered for a moment and then decided to approach from the side. She took the gardener’s route through the kitchen garden, tiptoeing as carefully as possible. With the skitter of pebbles, Violet was certain she’d never have a future in hunting.
This portion of the gardens was more functional than decorative, with the last of the summer vegetables coming in. She sniffed, biting her lips and stepping from the path into the garden beds. Her heels sunk into the soft loam, but she heard a girl say, “How long?”
The man’s voice was not pleading, but more quietly commanding. “Don’t be like that, love.”
Vi scowled. She immediately didn’t like him just for the way he was speaking. Was one of her lads stepping out on her? She grinned in anticipation of telling her stepmother. Between the one using the family abode to conduct his romance and the one who had previously left her bruised, Lady Eleanor had picked some real money-grubbing winners.
“I’ll be any way I like,” the girl hissed back. “You keep making promises, but you don’t follow through. Why should I keep listening to you?”
Violet silently cheered for the girl. This lad was a real rotten tomato.
“Enough,” he snapped in that low, commanding voice. It was like he was pretending to be a lover but failing miserably.
Violet sniffed, then caught Jack’s gaze. He was watching her from the corner of the garden, hands on his hips. Vi placed a finger over her lips and then waved him over. He crossed, but Violet turned back to the hedge that was hiding her, ear tilted towards the couple on the other side.
“Enough?” the girl demanded. “Enough what? Enough of your empty promises? Enough of your lies? Enough of all of it!” There was the sound of a small struggle and then the girl said, “Stop it.”
Jack placed his hand on Violet’s back, and she jumped even though she’d been suspecting him. She was tempted to go save the girl on the other side of the hedges, but she wanted to hear was happening. She’d step in if things escalated further.
“What,” he breathed into her ear, “do you think you’re doing?”
She turned and placed her finger over his lips.
“I said to stop it,” the girl said again. “I’m not going to keep playing this game with you.”
Violet’s eyes widened at Jack. She was sure he could see the combination of fury and glee in them. Was it so wrong that Violet was glad Lady Eleanor had chosen so badly? Vi did feel bad, however, for the girl. That was a girl whose heart was involved with a right bastard.
Whatever had happened between the couple had come to an end, and Violet was left alone with Jack. “Hello, love.” Her merry grin wasn’t returned. She tried winking but he wasn’t moved. “So you’re angry then?”
He shook his head. “No.” He didn’t smile, but she could see the humour in his eyes and the twitch at the corner of his mouth.
“What are you, then?”
“Violet—” Jack had that worried look that told her he was remembering how many times she’d been hurt while interfering in things like this.
“I was only curious which one of my lads was stepping out on me,” she told him with a saucy, slow smile.
Jack paused as though he wasn’t quite sure what to say and then shook his head again and held out his arm.
“It’s time to dress for dinner,” Jack said. “I’d love to try to persuade you not to nose into whatever that was, but I’m simply going to ask you to not get hurt again.”
“Of course,” Violet told him merrily. “I’ll never get injured again.”
He grunted as they walked into the house. “So you didn’t grow up here?”
Violet shook her head. “We spent most of our time with Aunt Agatha and at school with just a little time with the rest of the family here and there. To be fair to my stepmother, we really were devils.”
“Speak of the devil—” Violet caught sight of her stepmother, waggled her brows at Jack, and skipped up the stairs as though she didn’t hear, “Violet? Violet! I’d like to speak with you.”
She’d abandoned Jack and stopped when she hit the top landing. “Must bathe before dinner. Talk to you at dinner.”
Jack shot Violet a look that promised revenge as Lady Eleanor cocked her head at him and said, “So you’re the investigator.”
Lady Eleanor was pretending she hadn’t met Jack. She had, of course, when Jack had helped to solve the murder of her dastardly future-son-in-law. Fortunately for Isolde, her betrothed had been murdered before she’d been caught in his trap.
Violet’s gaze landed on Jack. If he were her twin, Violet would have left him to it and done so with utter joy.
“Jack,” Violet called, “St. Marks is calling for you. Also, Lady Eleanor, I saw Isolde looking for you in the kitchens. She’s scared to follow through on St. Marks’s offer. I told her to find you and get your opinion.”
“St. Marks?” Lady Eleanor asked in a high-pitched squeak. “Offer?” The last word was a choked out spasm of joy and terror combined. “Afraid? What? Oh no—”
Lady Eleanor spun without another word and rushed towards the kitchens.
“That,” Violet whispered, “was an example of true, true love. You should be honoured, sir.”
“You threw your sister right under the carriage.” Jack’s face was blank, but the humour in his gaze told her how he truly felt.
“She’ll be fine,” Violet told Jack as he hurried up the stairs after her. “There are consequences to being the favoured child, and from me, it’s a little light-hearted revenge. She’s lucky that’s all I do to her. It could be so much worse if I were more devilishly inclined.”
Jack shook his head and pressed a kiss on Violet’s forehead. “I suppose I should be grateful you use your powers for my benefit.”
Chapter Six
Violet’s bedroom had been decorated for her when she was in the schoolroom. She’d had no say in the purchases that had ended in layers of pink and maroon. She certainly hadn’t chosen the canopied bed or the cushioned bench at the end of her bed. The only part she well and truly enjoyed was the pretty vanity with the hand-carved detailing.
Rouge yipped at Violet when she came into the room, and she rubbed the dog’s belly, whispering compliments and love to her before she walked into the bathroom wher
e Beatrice had been arranging Violet’s things.
“My lady,” Beatrice said with a smile.
Violet examined her maid, who was also one of Violet’s favourite people. Her life was so much better with the maid in it. That being said, it was Vi’s job to protect the girl.
“My stepmother invited Theodophilus Smythe-Hill.”
The girl’s gaze widened with concern and fear. It had been Beatrice who had saved Violet from the grasping hands of Theo. The poor girl had been a housemaid in Aunt Agatha’s house when the fiend had decided to force Violet to accept his attention.
“Given our last interaction with Theo, I don’t think he’ll come.”
Beatrice nodded silently, but the bobbing of her head was a little too quick, and informed Violet that the girl was not, in fact, feeling safe.
“I want you to stay with Lila’s maid until we confirm that Theo isn’t actually coming. I won’t risk either of you, and I think we all know that the ladies won’t be safe with that animal around.”
Beatrice nodded, calming down.
“There is no order he can give you that you have to obey. You don’t have to bring him tea, stoke his fire, or enter his room. There is nothing he can do to you. If he speaks to you, turn and leave.”
Beatrice nodded again.
“If my stepmother finds out”—Violet closed her eyes, imagining how that would go—“she’ll threaten you, but her threats have no weight. Remember that.”
Beatrice took a fortifying breath. “Would you like a bath, my lady?”
Violet let the girl start the bath, adding bath salts and oils. Violet changed behind the screen and wrapped her kimono around her. She should hurry, she supposed. She hadn’t checked the time, but she could tell it was pressing. She wasn’t sure she cared.
