by Beth Byers
“It’s an exchange, Violet. You bring the money, they bring the position, and you both benefit. This is the way of our people. For generations, we have done things this way. Supposedly you understand business. Set aside whatever romantic foolishness you wish to pursue and take advice from your elders.”
“You engaged Isolde to a man as old as Father whose business was fraudulent. Please forgive me if I don’t find your opinion on my future all that valuable.”
Lady Eleanor gasped but then leaned in to hiss, “Then prepare Victor for a cut in income.”
“What’s all this now?” Victor’s smooth, even tone made Lady Eleanor start.
Violet didn’t bother to turn and face her brother. She’d guessed he’d followed from the beginning.
“Are you really trying to blackmail Violet into taking on one of your second-rate idiots by threatening my income from Father?”
“I—” Lady Eleanor’s mouth gaped like a fish.
Victor’s head tilted threateningly. He looked like a lion determining whether the mouse was worth the effort of catching. “Shall we call him over and ask him?”
Lady Eleanor started to speak. “How dare—” She faded out as Victor held up a hand and cut her off.
“We are not children anymore.” Victor’s voice was low, even, and commanding. “There is no scenario where you get your way when it comes to who Violet spends the rest of her life with. I suggest you look for an elegant way out of this mess you created and a way to apologize to her that won’t ruin your relationship with her. We’ve forgiven you for a lot over the course of our lives,” Victor said in that low-furious whisper. “I’m not sure that this will be one of those things.”
“You’ve forgiven me?” Lady Eleanor gasped again. “You were horrible children.”
“Of course we were.” Violet glanced at Victor. “You didn’t like us, and you didn’t want us. Why would we behave?”
Violet placed her hand on Victor’s arm, and they walked into the parlor as the younger Nelson brother, Melrose, said righteously, “I don’t drink gin or cocktails. One glass of wine with dinner is sufficient for all.”
Victor snorted. “You don’t drink cocktails?”
“Alcohol turns mankind into animals.” Melrose sniffed and then sipped from his tea. “Don’t you agree, Lady Violet?”
Vi tilted her head as she examined the younger Nelson. “No. I believe that over-indulgence and lack of self-awareness turns mankind into animals. I also don’t believe mankind needs alcohol whether it be gin, whisky, or wine to excuse their behavior. I’ve met far too many men who were animals without using a cocktail as the reason.”
“Oh ho,” Leopold Nelson said. “Looks like our Lady Violet enjoys cocktails, brother. You’ve just lowered your standing with her. Didn’t you claim while we were out shooting that Violet would fall into your arms like all women do? What do you think, Celia? Have you also fallen into Melrose’s arms? Shall we line you all up and see who succumbs first?”
Denny’s delighted laugh prevented anyone else from having to reply.
Violet glanced at her brother with an order. He nodded and crossed to the cart where the bottles his man had added to the collection had been placed. Mr. Giles was always careful to pack Victor’s own selections of alcohol and place them on whatever bar or bar cart was available. Nearby was the tea and coffee cart, and Victor busied himself at both.
Violet took a seat between Denny and Jack and glanced at Lila.
“Did you get told off?” Denny asked in his stage whisper. “I am so excited to be here. Violet, this place is better than Cuba.”
Violet winked at Denny as Victor approached with a teacup. “Coffee, chocolate liqueur, blackberry liqueur and cream. I’ve been playing a little. It contains all of your favourite indulgences except ginger wine. Coffee, chocolate, and a cocktail. You’re welcome.”
Violet took the drink with a sigh and reminded herself that she didn’t drink angry and she’d be sipping this magical creation slowly without refills.
“I’ll have one of those, my lad,” Lila said.
“Me too, please, Victor?” Kate glanced up at Victor through her lashes. She whispered to the others, “You know, your stepmother is significantly more challenging than my mother. I hadn’t expected that.”
“One can never expect Lady Eleanor,” Denny told Kate, not bothering to lower his voice. He got a nasty glance from the lady in question but didn’t even notice.
Victor grinned at his secret fiancé. “Darling one, I saved your cocktail for next so it would be the warmest. I know you like your drinks on the border of burning a hole in your mouth.”
“That will keep me up all night,” Denny declared. “I need something else.”
“Something stiffer,” Jack suggested, glancing at Violet. “Your demand of what the elder Nelson brother had to offer was everything I was hoping for, Violet.”
Victor grinned and left, returning with three more drinks. While he’d been delayed, Denny had waxed near poetic until Lord Devonsly had appeared and taken a seat. He held a bourbon in his hand and grinned at the others affably.
“Not a cocktail man myself,” Lord Devonsly said. “Or wine really. Drink it with dinner, of course, but I prefer a good pint or a bourbon.”
Denny tilted his head, his eyes filling with glee. “What exactly did Lady Eleanor offer you as regards to Violet?”
Lord Devonsly shrugged. “Said Lady Vi would be coming around, had quite an income, and was looking to settle down. To be honest, she tried to—ah—allude to it, I think. Only I didn’t quite get what she meant. Finally, your mother had to lay things right out for me. Couldn’t imagine you wouldn’t be able to find a fellow on your own. But maybe you want a title?” He sounded hopeful and turned those hound dog eyes on Violet.
She shook her head.
Denny cackled. “I can just imagine it. I see it in my mind. By Jove! To have been the fly on the wall for that conversation.”
Lord Devonsly nodded. “Honestly, I would have thought I misunderstood if your mother hadn’t had to lay it all out for me. Expect she’s a bit confused about what you were wanting.”
“That’s one way of putting it,” Violet muttered, as Victor handed Lila and Kate cups of coffee and returned with drinks for himself, Denny, and Jack, and then took a seat.
“What’s all this now?” he asked.
“Your stepmother,” Lila said, her gaze fixed on the girl, Celia, and the two Nelson brothers, “seems to have straight out offered a chance at Violet’s fortune to Devonsly here.”
Lord Devonsly flushed and glanced at Victor. “Thought it was worth the chance. Been a bit hard up lately. I figured even if things didn’t work out with Lady Violet, there would be good shooting.”
Victor shot a daggered glanced at his stepmother, who was studiously avoiding looking their way. She was chatting with Sir Rosens and his son, who had been the only one who hadn’t bothered Violet yet. She supposed it was only a matter of time.
“I feel a little like a mare at market,” Violet told the others, not caring that Lord Devonsly heard.
Lord Devonsly laughed. “You’ve got a way with words, Lady Violet. You should consider those Nelson fellows. They’ve got a way with words too. A bit sharp sometimes, but always so clever.”
Violet saw Jack’s jaw clenched, and Violet answered with the truth. She appreciated Jack’s patience with her, and she suddenly realized that any revenge against her stepmother would never be more important than putting the man she loved first.
“I’ve already found a clever lad, Lord Devonsly. Have you met Jack Wakefield? I fear my stepmother has wasted your time. We’ve come to tell my family of our engagement, having no idea she’d engineered this party.”
Lord Devonsly’s mouth dropped. Jack’s penetrating gaze met hers and she smiled gently at him. She should have realized that nothing else mattered—not even knowing how far her stepmother would carry this travesty.
“Stepmother, Father,” Violet sa
id, smiling up at Jack with actual worth before her expression cooled as it settled on Lady Eleanor. “Congratulate us. We’ve decided to be married.”
Father immediately rose and crossed to them, shaking Jack’s hand and kissing Violet on the cheek. “Been wondering. I gave Jack my blessing some time ago. Would have thought to hear by now.”
“You did what?” Lady Eleanor demanded.
They ignored the question as Violet answered her father. “I was secreting my good luck away for myself. Savoring it, really. Aren’t I the luckiest woman?”
“Good family, good head on his shoulders, good history. You could have done far worse, my love. Didn’t expect to actually like my sons-in-law. Yet here we are. Your young friend, Tomas, for Isolde and one of the few fellows I’d trust with your wild ways for you. Couldn’t be happier.”
Violet laughed and kissed her father on his cheek in return. “Thank you, Father.” Her whispered carried low and only to him.
His return whisper wasn’t surprising. “Suspect your mother might have wished for a different timing.”
“Father,” Victor announced, cutting in. “No one will be surprised to hear that Violet and Isolde have fallen in love with clever, good men. On the other hand, prepare yourself for an astounding shock, sir.”
Father’s brow wrinkled, but his gaze settled on Kate, and a small smile twitched about his lips.
“Kate Lancaster,” Victor smiled at her, “who speaks four languages, is learning Greek, loves literature, and reads scientific journals, has still somehow determined that I’m worthy of her hand.”
“I appreciate,” Father said, “how you listed out her brainy attributes. One might wonder if she were a bit slow if you hadn’t.”
Victor laughed and clapped Father on his shoulder while Lady Eleanor’s jaw dropped. Her eyes were glinting with fury. They’d gathered the attention of the group and left her out of their announcements. It had been cold and deliberate and—in Violet’s opinion—deserved.
The eyes of most of the group were on them, and Violet dared a glance around, noting a smile on Lord Devonsly and two matching scowls on the Nelson brothers, who were alternating between glaring at her to glaring at each other.
Violet accepted Lady Eleanor’s kiss on her cheek, unsurprised that her stepmother’s lips did not touch her cheek, hearing instead, “We will be talking of this.”
Violet pulled back, winked, and linked her arm through Jack’s. “Champagne cocktails, Victor. We’re celebrating!”
Lady Eleanor’s eyes widened as they turned her post-dinner matchmaking party into a cocktail party. Denny turned on the wireless with a sense of joy that seemed to rival Lady Eleanor’s irritation. She looked as if she were about to say something, but Father leaned down and whispered to her.
Denny found jazz on the wireless and, with a wicked grin, invited Lila to dance. In moments, they were all dancing, Lord Devonsly joining in with Celia. Violet grinned at the other woman she’d barely talked to, noting how Celia seemed to be enjoying the evening far more now that she was no longer the unwanted single woman who didn’t have a fortune to offer.
“Violet,” Denny said as he, Lila, Jack and Violet caught their breath on the side of the room. “You are my favourite too. Sorry, my love.”
The evening turned from awkward to downright hostile as Jack and Violet celebrated while everyone else seemed ready to string up Lady Eleanor. Violet felt about as sorry as she’d have been for the villain of one of her books. Speaking of—
“Victor darling,” Violet said merrily, “I have the most delightful idea for our next book.”
“Don’t speak of it,” Lady Eleanor said. “You must stop writing that…that…trash immediately.”
“Oh sweet stepmother”—Victor’s wicked grin wasn’t able to pull out an ounce of sympathy from Violet—“we’ll never stop.”
“You have no need of the money,” she snapped.
“You never know when one’s allowance will be cut off.” Victor glanced at Father, who simply lifted a brow.
“Have you done something worthy of having your allowance cut off, Victor?”
“One never knows.” Violet wound her arm through Jack’s. “I have been wanting to show you the folly here.”
Jack’s mouth twitched, and Lady Eleanor frowned. Father, however, only said, “Mind the walk, Vi. The path needs to be smoothed out.”
Violet led Jack through the house and into the back garden. They were, she knew, being rude. She should have stayed and talked weather and been willing to dance with the other gents and let them try to romance her, but her anger with her stepmother didn’t allow it.
She wound her arm around his elbow. “I shouldn’t have delayed telling her. This is all my fault. I should have simply told her that we were engaged and let her rage.”
Jack started to reply, but they both heard an auto on the drive. The gravel was spraying into the green, and Violet pushed up on her tiptoes to see who it was.
“It must be Smythe-Hill,” Jack said.
She curled into his side. She was brave in the face of many things, but what had happened with Smythe-Hill grabbing her and manhandling her had burned its image into her brain.
Jack put his forefinger under her chin, turning her face up to his. “There is no way that he will hurt you again, Vi.”
She nodded.
He smiled at her and pressed a kiss to her forehead. Violet laid her head against his chest. Jack was a large man, and when he pressed close to her, she felt as though she had a shield to protect her from whatever life may throw at her. Violet curled herself into him again. There was a time shortly coming when these wouldn’t have to be stolen moments.
Violet let Jack hold her as they watched Theo Smythe-Hill get out of the auto with his man, who took his cases around the back of the house while Theo made his way up the steps. What would happen now? She wanted to be independent. She wanted to be strong and brave and ironically funny. There was at least a piece of her, however, that quaked a little to see a man walk into her home knowing he little valued what she wanted—even when it came to her life, her body, and her money.
Chapter Eight
The folly at her father’s house was, like so many, a Roman ruin. His looked like a temple that was somehow both still standing and on the edge of falling down. The looks were, however, deceiving. The ruin was a snug little building that kept out the elements when it was raining and was an excellent location to read a book on a lonely, grey day, assuming one also had a warm blanket.
Violet and Jack spent too long in those walls for even her father’s sensibilities and when they came out, her hair was a bit mussed and her lipstick was gone. Violet grinned at Jack as they walked, fingers tangled, back to the house. They went through the kitchen door and found Cook still in the kitchen.
“Well now,” Cook said, placing a plate on a tray.
Violet introduced Jack to Cook and winked when she got a knowing look from the woman. There was a sandwich on a plate with a pickle on the side, some sliced fruit, and a bowl of soup. Violet glanced the tray over and sighed for Cook, who had long since earned the right to return to bed.
“Is that for Smythe-Hill?” Jack asked, following Violet’s gaze.
Cook nodded. It was necessary to know the woman rather well to see the level of her irritation as she made up the tray. It was well past the time when the kitchens should have been shut down and Cook able to relax however she preferred. Vi wouldn’t have been surprised if it had been with pulp novels like Vi and Victor wrote.
Violet decided to snag a plate of biscuits since Cook was there to scold them over digging through the cabinets. Violet grinned at Cook, who seemed inclined towards being irritated when she’d normally make a plateful of biscuits for Vi and tell her she was too thin.
“I need to speak with your father,” Jack told Vi. “He’ll be in the library?”
Violet nodded as Cook called for the maid to take the tray up to Theodophilus. Violet examined the girl. “Call f
or a footman instead, Cook,” she said. “Keep the girls away from him until Father and Victor send Theodophilus on his way.” Violet said his name as though it were an insult.
Cook’s eyes widened and then narrowed. She turned to the maid who had been waiting to take the tray up and said, “Go get Jordie.”
Violet looked at her plate and thought what she needed was some ginger wine to go with the biscuits. If she were still able to curl into Aunt Agatha’s lap, Violet would have taken her wine and biscuits up to her aunt and told her about Stepmother, the money-grubbing fortune hunters, and Theodophilus, who was so stupid as to believe he had a chance with her.
Perhaps instead, however, he thought he might be attempting to persuade Isolde. The fool! Lady Eleanor might be willing to throw Violet at anyone with the right connections, but Isolde was an entirely different story.
The parlor had emptied while Jack and Violet had escaped to the folly. The fire was out, the lights were dimmed, and the remnants of the mess—if there were any—were hidden by darkness. Violet left the lights down as she hurried towards the bar cart. The ginger wine bottle was familiar, and she would be able to find it in the dark.
She’d rather feel a half dozen bottles for the right shape than be forced to talk to someone other than her friends, Jack, or Victor. Violet was running her fingers over the bottles until she found the one with stars on the bottle. Just in case, she pulled out the stopper, sniffing it to ensure she’d had found the right bottle, and then she lifted her plate of biscuits again. Violet stepped towards the door on the opposite side of the room from her entrance and immediately tripped, crashing down and sending the plate of biscuits flying.
“Oh!” She pressed her hand down to push herself up, noting that the wine had spilled. Her hand was covered in liquid, and she could already hearing her stepmother’s scold about the carpets. “Ouch,” Vi muttered, taking a deep breath and pushing herself onto her hands and knees.
