His brows rose. “I wasn’t intending to arrive au naturel.”
Now Flora’s brow rose and the edge of her thin lips curled up. “Shame.”
Chapter 13
The air felt too thick to breathe. Possibly her waist was cinched in too tight. Amethyst loved this dress, and it used to fit perfectly. Too many of Mrs Shaw’s wonderful little cakes and pastries, clearly her cook-housekeeper was just too good at her job. Not enough walking. One of the problems with having money was that she didn’t do anywhere near as much walking as she used too.
“I will do more,” she promised herself. “I will.”
“Do more of what?”
The soft voice at her ear made her turn and smile at the man who had spoken. His thick moustache was steady and even; no smile for her tonight?
“Walking,” she explained. “I used to walk everywhere. Now I hail a cab. I need to stop that and walk more.” She patted her waistline. “Or eat less. Else I might never get into this dress again.”
“Well that would be a shame. You look beautiful.”
“I feel fat. It’s never been this tight before.”
“You are most certainly not fat.” He looked to her waistline. “What is that? A twenty-inch waist?”
It was twenty-two, but she appreciated the flattery.
“If anything, you need to eat more.”
“Hardly,” she smiled softly. “So, must eat less.”
“How ladies eat anything in tight corsets, I’ll never know.”
The small laugh shivered out of her. “Sparingly. Very sparingly. And tomorrow I will start walking more.”
His scrutiny was a little uncomfortable. “You need to be careful. Walking is very beneficial exercise, but a young lady out walking alone can be a target of the wrong sort of attention. Especially back in London. Besides, how would Great-Aunt Flora keep up?”
The concern was both flattering and worrying. It was as both Maker and Great-Aunt Flora kept reminding her, she was a woman of society now and she had to remember both the rules and restrictions of that society. “You have a point. Perhaps I’ll have to find another walking partner.”
“I will be walking around some of the estate tomorrow, you’re more than welcome to join me. Assuming that you can tolerate the company of an old man who’s going to be asking a lot of questions of the people he’ll be looking out for on the way.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Oh no, not the company of an old man, I don’t think I’d enjoy that at all.” The smile couldn’t be contained any longer. “But being with you all day; now that would be a pleasure.”
His eyeline shifted over her head and she heard the last thump-shuffle before the black mass of the formidable Flora appeared in her sight.
“Great-Aunt Flora, you look…” He paused and considered. “…like you’re going to hit me with your cane again. May I ask what I’ve done to deserve such attention this time?”
The humph was small but distinct. “You didn’t dress for dinner.”
As Jenson looked down, Amethyst looked him over too. He wore a dark grey suit, a rather stylish one, actually. It was neatly tailored and well pressed; his shirt was pristine white and his black tie was an elegant Windsor knot. His look returned to Great-Aunt Flora, then tended a question to Amethyst. She shrugged.
“You look dressed to me.”
Great-Aunt Flora humphed again. “Dressing for dinner means a dress coat and a white bow tie.”
“Ahh.”
“And a stiffy.”
Jenson’s moustache didn’t rise but his eyebrows did. Amethyst looked away and fought a losing battle against a blush.
“A starched shirt bosom,” Great-Aunt Flora tutted. “Really, you two.” The thump-shuffle scuttled away.
As Great-Aunt Flora sat with Lady Garrington-Smythe, Lady Roberta Davenport decided to join the couple. The formal greeting was made properly. Apparently, Jenson was eager to show that for all he didn’t meet the dress code, he knew how to behave in polite company.
“Inspector Jenson, if you don’t start calling me Bobbie, I’m going to call you Inspector Jenson all evening. Would you like that, Inspector Jenson?”
“Well it is my name, but the rank would get a little wearing, Lady Bobbie. Might impede on the comfort of others too. I’ve noticed the presence of a police officer can do that to even the best of company.”
There really wasn’t a lot to say to that, but the doors opened and in swept Lady Violet, a vision in duck egg blue silk, her blonde hair curled and styled to the fashion, a single ringlet falling to her right shoulder, and an ostrich feather dyed to match the gown and artfully placed in her hair accentuating her height, grace and beauty.
“She really is perfect.” Amethyst breathed and tried not to let jealousy raise bile too high in her throat.
“Only on the outside,” Jenson assured her.
“True,” Bobbie agreed in an undertone. “And you’d barely even notice Maker was with her, he seems determined to blend into the background.”
Amethyst wasn’t in the least bit sure how anyone could think Maker could ever blend into any background. His height, his sophistication, those shining emerald eyes, all drew far too much attention.
As the vision in blue shimmered into the room, Lord Montgomery stood to greet Violet. The way he glowed, leaned towards her, smiled at her was closer than was proper, it was more like when Maker had moved towards her that afternoon. Suddenly it wasn’t just the corset denying Amethyst breath.
Her hand went over her heart, she had to calm it down. Her fingers touched metal, the multi-stoned pendant line. One stone for each of her siblings, and one for her. It was a bittersweet memorial of her family. And it was one place Jade would never be denied a presence in the world.
She watched as Monty leaned over the simpering Violet. It was impressive and reminded her that Montgomery was in fact taller than the tallest man in her world, Maker. Maker appeared totally uninterested in the interaction. He accepted the pre-dinner drink that was offered and took up his usual position on the edge of the crowd. This time on the opposite side of the room from Amethyst.
“Jenson, would you permit me to introduce you to my mother?”
Surprised from her consideration by Bobbie’s invitation, Amethyst looked up at Jenson. He tipped his head, that impressive moustache moved and she wondered what his lips looked like beneath it.
“It would be my honour, Bobbie.”
Amethyst stayed where she was as the other two moved away. Not that they had far to go, Lady Garrington-Smythe and Great-Aunt Flora were on the nearest couch, quietly talking. She watched and listened as Bobbie made the introductions, Jenson giving a very smart bow. Apparently, Bobbie had been very complimentary in her descriptions of Jenson, and Lady Garrington-Smythe was pleased to make his acquaintance. There was nothing lacking in his etiquette. In fact, there was nothing lacking in him at all.
A pair of emerald eyes drew her attention across the room. She didn’t want to be seen to be staring at Maker, so she made sure she kept a small smile on her face and moved her attention around the room. Monty and Violet were sitting together, with Edwina at their side, Violet central, of course. She was a queen holding court, and her courtiers were more than happy to worship. Robert Lovesey stood close to Edwina, a proprietorial hulk, like a ramshackle house casting shadows on a flower. Shivers ran down Amethyst’s spine. The poor woman. Only she and Maker stood apart from any group. What wouldn’t she give for the freedom to cross the room and talk to him?
Chapter 14
Eventually they were notified that dinner was ready to be served. Uncertain of the etiquette herself, Amethyst held back.
Montgomery offered his arm to Violet. That might have been an insult the way Maker’s jaw clenched, but he moved swiftly to offer his arm to Lady Garrington-Smythe. Jenson checked behind him to see that Lovesey was offering the reluctant yet compliant Edwina an arm, before he did the same for Great-Aunt Flora. As the couples processed out, Amethyst saw Jenson look briefly ov
er his shoulder. It made no sense, but it was good to know that he was checking she was included.
“That leaves you and me then.” With a broad smile, Bobbie offered her arm.
Amethyst took it and they followed the others. “I must say, you look very dashing in tails.”
“Why, thank you.”
Bobbie’s habit of dressing in men’s clothing, oddly, usually enhanced her figure.
“Though I have to say,” Amethyst whispered. “I would very much like to know what you look like in a dress.”
Bobbie gave a small laugh and leaned in to whisper in Amethyst’s ear. “I’d very much like to know what you look like out of a dress.”
What little air Amethyst could get into her lungs fled, seeming destined never to return as Bobbie smiled and showed her to her seat. She wasn’t shocked by Bobbie’s preference, that she’d known for a while, it was simply the idea of being stripped naked by her friend that surprised her so. It probably shouldn’t, but unlike Bobbie, Amethyst didn’t have the benefit of a boarding school education. She’d only ever shared a room with her twin brother until their parents had decided they should be separated.
Thankfully, Bobbie moved to the other side of the table; Amethyst needed the barrier to recover her composure. Montgomery and all the other titled nobles were at the far end of the table. Then, once he’d helped her chair and checked Great-Aunt Flora was comfortably seated, Jenson moved down to sit at Amethyst’s side. Her faithful ally.
“Are you well?”
She turned to him, offered him a smile. “I am quite well, thank you.”
The way Jenson looked at Bobbie, grey eyes as inscrutable as London fog, suggested he didn’t quite believe that.
Amethyst might be ‘quite well’ physically, but she was being affected by something more than a tight corset. Jenson glanced at Bobbie; there was a mischievous glint in that woman’s eye that suggested she’d said something naughty. That was something that he actually admired about the woman. She lived by her own rules and wasn’t pushed into anything that Society might try to force on her. Such strength was admirable; but not if she upset Amethyst.
A hand was placed gently on his arm. Amethyst leaned in close.
“She surprised me, is all. I’ll recover.”
He was sure she would, she was nothing if not resilient.
“Especially with you by my side.”
Heat rushed into his cheeks as she sat up straight. He wasn’t sure what she meant by that, but he’d take it as a compliment. They were friends, after all. He’d never doubted that friendship since they’d formed it. She was the only one he could talk to about his Parliamentary Commission. He had five people to look for and here, Amethyst had been the instrument of his admission to the Montgomery household so he could investigate one of those five. She had already helped him achieve something he would never have done on his own, she had brought him into this house, this company.
Dining with six titled nobles was a new experience. A daunting one. He understood now why Great-Aunt Flora had suggested dressing for dinner, his everyday wear was out of place here. It wasn’t something that had occurred to him, he’d never needed to dress for dinner before. Perhaps he should see if there was somewhere within reach where he could acquire the right outfit. He had sufficient money, it seemed unlikely that it would make a big enough dent in his savings to cost him the country cottage he was planning to buy to retire to.
Saving. That was probably something the people around this table didn’t need to do very often. His gaze went to Lord Montgomery. He was everything a young man of wealth should be, idle, self-important – and he really needed to reconsider his opinion of rich young men. Maker was a rich young man… well at 33, perhaps not that young, but he was neither idle nor… Jenson considered, Maker did show signs of self-importance, but not of selfishness. Montgomery, however, did. He was clearly the type to trade on his looks, and the fact that he’d marry his sister off to a brute like Lovesey showed that he cared more about money than family. From all that Maker had told him, Montgomery wasn’t the picture-perfect presentation he was reaching for. Or was that just personal rivalry? It was obvious to him that Lady Violet’s preference ran toward Montgomery. It was equally clear that the rest of the field weren’t going to mention that.
Indifference was the best he could feel for Montgomery at this stage, but he had still a lot to learn about his host and he did not know what he would uncover when he spoke to the locals.
Chapter 15
Something was bothering Amethyst, though Maker couldn’t tell what. Jenson had offered his arm, correctly, to Great-Aunt Flora, meaning that Bobbie had escorted Amethyst into the room. The two friends hadn’t seemed as jovial together as they usually did. What had happened? Even Jenson looked uncertain as he looked at the pair. But Amethyst put her hand on his arm, smiled and muttered something, looked across at Bobbie and offered a warm smile there too. Whatever had caused the issue seemed to have past.
The food was, as always with Lord Montgomery’s table, delicious, though he noticed Amethyst didn’t have her usual appetite. Had he put her off her food? That idea filled his own stomach with lead. He looked at his wife. The overt flirting didn’t seem to be doing her too much good; Monty glanced often in Amethyst’s direction, though she was dividing her time between Bobbie and Jenson. Whatever tension there had been had gone.
For the first time he noted that the only single lady in the room was Amethyst, though two young widows could be counted, he supposed. Of eligible men, there were three. Lord Montgomery, Robert Lovesey, and if Lovesey was to be counted as eligable, so must Jenson be. Monty had all but arranged the wedding for Lovesey and Edwina, which left him and Jenson. Jenson was only here because Amethyst had found a way to include him. That was slightly odd, part of the point of a house party was usually to pair up some couple in preparation of marriage. It seemed ever more likely that Monty hadn’t been joking about making Amethyst an offer.
He considered Violet. How would she react to such a proposal? He was sure to feel the brunt of her reaction.
“You’re very quiet, Amethyst,” Monty broke away from Violet long enough to say.
The young woman focused on the lord and smiled. “Not particularly, though I was wondering who that is in the painting behind you.”
Neither Monty nor Maker had to look to see the young man in question. A young man in a white curled wig, he wore armour with a large crest embossed on the chest, a sash and a swathe of red tartan.
“It’s Bonnie Prince Charlie.”
“Ah, the Pretender to the throne.”
Maker wasn’t overly surprised that Jenson’s response earned him a scowl from Monty.
“The painting is rather flattering,” Lady Garrington-Smythe commented. “I believe it’s an heirloom. Was it not your grandfather’s selection?”
“My great-grandfather’s.”
Lady Garrington-Smythe nodded. “It’s certainly been there as long as I can remember.”
“About time you decorated then, young lad.”
The comment was Great-Aunt Flora’s, the squeak before the laugh could be held back was Amethyst’s. Maker looked down the table at her. Her lips were compressed, still tilted up, but controlled, and her eyes sparkled with the unshed laughter. Inside he wanted to join her in the mirth, but he knew better. Great-Aunt Flora’s acerbic wit was one of the things he liked most about the old lady.
“Nothing wrong with maintaining a traditional style.”
Now Maker was surprised by Jenson’s comment.
“Thank you.”
“You’re quite welcome, Lord Montgomery,” Jenson said. “I see a great deal of taste has gone into furnishing your home.”
Thankfully, Jenson didn’t mention the nature of the taste; Maker himself found much of it to be bad.
“This kind of house is beyond my experience, so now I’m curious,” Jenson continued. “Is the rest of the house similarly untouched or have you refr
eshed some part of it?”
“A few of the bedrooms have been completely redecorated, but most of the family areas remain as my father left them.”
Because extravagant frippery is more important than maintaining the fabric of the house or repaying debts. It wasn’t a thought Maker was proud of, but he couldn’t un-think it.
The conversation continued around him. Jenson and Amethyst, Jenson and Bobbie, Bobbie and Amethyst, Jenson and Great-Aunt Flora. And as the four of them shared something to laugh at, Amethyst caught his eye. He felt punched in the gut, and folded faster than Lovesey.
He looked at Violet. That put his feet back on the ground.
Dinner felt interminable, finally the cigars had been smoked, the coffee drunk and the gathering regathered. When Maker indicated to Violet it was time to leave, she had, unusually, agreed.
“Well, that was just awful,” Violet moaned as she slumped onto the bed.
He murmured an agreement and rang the bell for Blanchard and her lady’s maid. She went through so many that he couldn’t even be bothered to remember their names anymore and tried to pay them little heed. When the maid and valet arrived, Violet took her maid to the dressing room and Blanchard helped Maker in the bedroom. Once the coat and shirt were off, Blanchard pulled a tin of salve from his own pocket. The flinch was unavoidable, but Maker bore the pain as the application would ease the bruising.
“It’s looking much better, sir. Brown and yellow.”
The last stages of bruising. Hopefully it would be gone before Violet lost control again.
“Thank you, Blanchard.”
The man helped him prepare for bed, and Maker just wished he would be allowed to sleep in the bed. Alone, he waited for Violet to reappear. It was taking some time, so he knew more than night time preparations were going on in the next room. The bed was big and welcoming and he had a right. With care, he lowered himself to the soft welcoming sheets and pulled the covers over him as he laid his head on the pillow.
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