Violet swallowed her fear and let her eyes adjust to the moonlight. So far the Earl had proven himself to be trustworthy and certainly hadn't shown any sign of wanting to hurt her as of yet. She was still curious as to what he had been doing slinking around the gazebo, and why he was so interested in what she had seen. He seemed to have some understanding of what was happening — much more than she did. At the moment she was going to have to trust him, for she certainly could not get back to the ballroom without his help.
“Wait!” he whispered.
They had not moved but two steps away from the gazebo when she saw him pause, feeling the tension ripple down his arm through the hand she had rested on it. Going quite numb with fright as he held up a hand in a sign for her to remain silent, Violet did as she was asked and waited, wishing that her breathing was not coming so quickly but aware that she could not prevent her fright. Was someone coming? Had they left the gazebo too early? Her mind ran with images of what the man might do should he find them, for she was quite sure that he would act quickly without any regard to who they were or what they had seen.
In truth, it probably would not matter to him whether or not they had witnessed the murder, for he would not take any chances. If he had a group of men at his beck and call, Violet and the Earl would just be another two unexplained disappearances, their bodies sent to the bottom of the Thames where no one might ever find them. She shuddered at the thought, her heart pounding her chest.
Then, entirely unexpectedly, the Earl turned around, wrapped both arms around her waist and pressed her back against the side of the gazebo, his eyes catching the moonlight as he looked down at her. Violet stared up at him, her hands flat against his chest, seeing his face for the first time. Briefly she noted eyes the color of cocoa, and a strong jaw with a hint of stubble under an aquiline nose. However, she did not have much longer to contemplate his face any further for, without warning, he lowered his head and kissed her soundly.
Violet did not know what to do or how to respond, remaining entirely frozen despite the Earl’s warm lips on hers. He was urging her to respond in his own way, his hands pressing against her back gently. Violet could not understand what he was doing, struggling to think clearly as his kiss intensified.
Then, slowly she began to feel a most unexpected sensation. It was a gradual, unfurling warmth that started in the pit of her stomach and began to spread itself all through her, right to the very tips of her fingers. She discovered that her hands had made their way around his neck, and she threaded them into his hair as he angled his head to deepen the kiss. Whatever it was he was intending by this, Violet was already quite lost in all that it was bringing to her.
She did not know how long he kissed her for, her eyes remaining closed when he finally lifted his head.
"You are quite lovely," he murmured, capturing her chin in his hand. "Although I should apologize for my lack of propriety."
She gave him a slightly dazed smile. “Not at all,” she murmured, the warmth that had spread through her now giving her the strength to stand without his assistance. She now had a few more moments to take her fill of his face, softened by the hint of a gentle smile. He was a good-looking man -- not classically handsome, but intriguing. She supposed she had attended the same functions as him in the past. Violet wondered that she had not previously noticed him. His dark mahogany locks, slightly longer than was in fashion, had a slight curl at the ends, and Violet fought the itch to push back a few strands that had fallen over his forehead.
She watched as he bent to pick up his coat, which had slipped off her shoulders to the ground during their embrace. As he slipped it back on, she stood a little awkwardly, not knowing what to say, until he stepped back and held out his arm.
“We should return to the ball,” he said, quietly. “You have been outside for quite long enough and I would not like to disconcert your mother.”
Violet saw the way his eyes darted to and fro around the gardens, as she slowly became aware of exactly why he had kissed her. The warmth she felt evaporated at once, the slight smile falling from her lips as she took his arm.
“Of course,” she murmured, dully, cursing herself for her lack of sense as they walked through the gardens together, returning to the ball and her reality.
4
“Lady Harrington, is that you? Violet Harrington!”
Lord Joshua Greville frowned heavily at the loud call, his body tensing as he continued to walk along the path back towards the ball with Lady Violet Harrington on his arm.
“Ah, Lady Beauforth,” said his companion, dropping her hand from his arm and greeting her friend as she approached. “I was walking in the gardens and got quite lost, I’m afraid. I was very fortunate that Lord — ” She turned towards him, obviously about to introduce him, forcing him to act.
“Shall we continue this conversation inside?” he asked, cutting her off somewhat brusquely before she said his name. “I believe the wind is picking up and I would not wish for you all to become chilled.” He put on a gentlemanly smile, bowing slightly and spreading his arm out towards the French doors, to where they might return. In the lamplight, he saw Lady Beauforth and her companion study him for a moment, glancing towards Lady Harrington, before nodding.
“Of course,” Lady Beauforth murmured, stepping forward and linking arms with Lady Harrington. “As you say, my lord, is it growing quite cool.”
Relieved that he had managed to keep his name from being spoken, Joshua fell into step behind the ladies, his sharp eyes seeking out any kind of strange moving shadows amongst the dark shapes of the bushes and shrubs in the gardens. He thought he saw movement in the darkness of the hedge, but he could not be sure.
Once the ladies were safely indoors, he bid a quick farewell to Lady Harrington, aware of the slight blush in her cheeks as she curtsied, before stepping away. He had to find a place where he could survey the ball but still remain hidden. The balcony lent itself to his cause and, before long, Joshua found himself sitting on a marble bench, almost entirely shrouded in shadow.
Apparently, he was not so disguised that his long-standing friend, Lord Conrad Taylor, could not find him.
“Is something amiss?”
Startled, Joshua jumped, growling as his friend sat down next to him with his lips curved into a smile.
“Scare you, did I?”
Joshua did not want to admit to himself that his eyes had, almost unconsciously, discovered Lady Harrington amongst the dancers, and had been unable to leave her since. She was graceful, yet she wore a preoccupied look on her face, which was not surprising considering all that she had just endured.
He shrugged in response to his friend, refusing to confess that he had been so distracted by the lady that he had not heard Lord Taylor approach. There was something about Lady Harrington that kept her predominately in his thoughts. He couldn’t put his finger on it. She was beautiful, yes, and her intelligence was evident through the expressions he caught from her vivid blue eyes, the color of the gemstone she wore around her neck. He cursed at the desire that had arisen in him when her shapely, soft body was pressed against his, and when he had tasted the sweetness on her lips and smelled the lavender of her hair.
“Someone caught your eye?” asked Taylor, who was polished as always, his sandy hair fashioned in the latest style, short above his forehead with long sideburns, his clothing immaculate.
“In truth, yes,” Joshua replied, quietly, pushing away his thoughts. “But not for the reasons you might think.”
“Oh?”
Frustrated, Joshua shook his head. “I went out to the gardens as you know, in the hope of discovering the names or at least, the appearances of those involved in this wicked scheme, only to find out that I was too late.”
Taylor’s face lost its merry look at once, his dark eyebrows forming one, deep line as he frowned. “But I thought you were told that Sir Whitby was meeting a man at --”
"Regardless of what we were told, I did not quite make it on
time," Joshua interrupted, shaking his head. "However, I discovered a lady in the gazebo from where I had planned to scout."
He heard Taylor’s sharp intake of breath, evidently aware of what this meant.
“She witnessed a murder,” Joshua concluded.
“Good heavens,” Taylor muttered, passing a hand over his perfectly styled hair. “So they have killed Sir Whitby?”
“It appears so,” Joshua replied, heavily. “And I was not only too late to prevent it, but to bring the men responsible to justice tonight.”
They had been chasing this specific group for some time, but, as yet, had been unable to discover their true identities or catch them in the act of a single crime. It was as though these men were shadows, hiding themselves with ease. They were clearly extremely well organized, although Joshua had not yet been able to discover who it was that directed the group.
Some years ago, Joshua had determined that life as an earl was somewhat boring for a man of his caliber. He wanted more than just seeking out a wife, producing the heir and the spare, and then losing himself in mistresses and wealth. Yes, there was some land to oversee and business to attend to, but he wanted to use his mind and skills to benefit society as a whole, although there did not seem much an earl could do without damaging his reputation.
Of course, he had given some monies towards charitable causes and the like, but that had meant that he had only had to sign his name on a few documents. It required no further input from him, which had frustrated him more than a little. It had been then that, whilst discussing his future plans and desires with Lord Taylor, that he had hit upon an idea.
Since that evening, he had found himself as head of a small group of investigators who took on the cases that the constabulary could either not resolve, or required assistance with due to Joshua’s access to places and events as an earl. Of course, Joshua had to be more than a little discreet, for it would not do for society to discover that he was involved in such an undertaking, but it suited him quite well. He very much enjoyed pitting his mind against that of the criminals with which he became involved.
He paid the men who worked for him out of his own pocket and would provide them a bonus for each case solved. All, that is, except for Taylor, who had no needs for any funds, but rather had been eager to join Joshua in his pursuit of justice and purpose. He and Taylor were involved in whatever capacity they chose – and, as in this case, occasionally took over the entire investigation.
Of course, that was only when the gentry was involved. Sir Whitby, it seemed, had got himself caught up with a gentleman of poor repute. From what Joshua understood, the man – whoever he was – had gambled Sir Whitby completely out of pocket, and had then held Sir Whitby to ransom over his debt. Why the man had been murdered, he was not quite sure, but had heard from one of his many informants – namely, a street urchin who lived very close to Sir Whitby's home – that there was to be a meeting that very evening at the ball, in the darkest part of the gardens.
That was all the information Joshua had been given, and he had only just managed to scout out the gardens earlier that day, given that he was a friend of their hosts. He had muttered some nonsense about feeling quite melancholy and how the gardens had always seemed to lift his spirits, and had been allowed almost immediate access. From there, he had determined where the darkest part of the gardens was and, from that, had hoped that he would be in time to stop whatever nefarious intentions were planned as well as catch those responsible.
Unfortunately, his carriage had been caught up in the plethora of other guests attending the ball, which was something he had not planned for. It would have drawn no amount of attention had he simply got out and walked, so had been forced, for propriety's sake, to remain within. That had made him late and, as such, Sir Whitby was now gone from this world. Had Joshua known the consequences of the meeting tonight he would have broken with his respectability, but regret would not bring Sir Whitby back.
“Do we have any idea of what Sir Whitby was meant to bring to the group?” Taylor asked, breaking into his thoughts. “Or why they killed him?”
“From what Lady Harrington said, they grew impatient with his lack of action.”
“And she did not hear what it was he meant to do?”
Frustrated, Joshua shook his head.
"Then we are no closer to catching them in the act."
“And if we do not, then we cannot discover who it is that leads them,” Joshua finished, his shoulders slumped. “Although one thing Lady Harrington did hear, was that Sir Whitby referred to one of the men as ‘Roberts’.”
It did not bring anyone to mind, unfortunately, and, from Taylor’s silence, it did not mean anything to him either.
“Well, that is something, at least,” Taylor replied, with a forced amount of cheerfulness. “Although that does not explain why you remain up here?”
"As I said, it was Lady Harrington who witnessed, or, at the very least, heard the murder," Joshua said, his eyes still on the lady. “Before exiting the gazebo, I was sure the garden around us was quite void of any presence, however I believe I saw a shadow move as we emerged onto the garden path."
Taylor's swift intake of breath told Joshua that the man realized just how much danger Lady Harrington was in.
“I did what I could do shield her identity, of course,” Joshua continued, only to stop and clear his throat as a slight heat rose up the back of his neck. “However, as we reached the French doors, we stumbled across an acquaintance of hers!”
A loud groan came from Taylor, who ran one hand over his face. “And now you are betrothed?”
Joshua laughed, shaking his head. “No, not in the least. Lady Harrington stated that she was lost, and Lady Beauforth, I believe, was not particularly following the rules of propriety either, so we entered the ballroom without a fuss.”
Taylor frowned, regarding Joshua with a great deal of confusion. “Then what is troubling you?”
Joshua sighed inwardly, wishing his friend would allow him to complete his story without unnecessary interruptions. “My concern is, that Lady Beauforth identified Lady Harrington at once, stating her name aloud.”
"Ah," Taylor interrupted, his eyes widening slightly. "And you are concerned, therefore, that the lady in question can be easily identified by this ‘Roberts', whoever he may be?"
“Quite.”
Taylor frowned. “Did Lady Beauforth identify you also?”
“No, thank goodness,” Joshua replied, fervently. “My identity is safe for now, although I cannot say as much for Lady Harrington.”
“Might well you say so,” Taylor stated, darkly. “Look.”
Joshua followed his friend’s gaze, his heart stopping in his chest as he saw two men, who were not particularly well dressed, enter through the French doors. There was something quite furtive about them, their eyes sharp as they moved through the crowd.
“I have no doubt that your Lady Harrington might be in danger,” Taylor muttered, getting to his feet. “You see to the lady. I shall take care of our two friends.”
Joshua was on his feet at once, growing cold all over at the thought of Lady Harrington caught up with such men. A well placed slender knife could easily cause her death, and allow the men responsible to escape without ever being noticed. It would not be the first time he had seen such a thing.
Lady Harrington was not difficult to spot, for she was still where he had seen her last, talking amicably with a lady of her acquaintance. She remained close to the wall of the ballroom and did not seem to have a great many suitors at hand. In fact, he had seen her step out onto the dance floor only once since their return to the ballroom which, he thought to himself, was something of a surprise given her delicate beauty.
In truth, now that he saw the lady in full candlelight, he had to admit that he found her quite a beautiful young woman, although certainly not in the first flush of youth. High cheekbones accentuated her lovely face, her slender nose resting above full, rosy lips. Given that
he was not inclined to stand up with debutantes, Lady Harrington would be the perfect dance partner, whilst ensuring that he could protect her from danger.
"Lady Harrington," he murmured, aware of the surprise in her eyes as he approached. "Might you join me for a dance? I do hope your dance card is not full."
The color drained from her face, with only a slight tremble of her lips as she attempted to nod and smile. Her companion, evidently delighted with her friend being asked to accompany him to the dance floor, stood aside at once so that Lady Harrington might take his arm.
“It would be my pleasure,” she murmured, stepping forward and allowing him to lead her to the middle of the ballroom.
5
Violet could hardly breathe, such was her surprise at being asked to dance by Lord Greville, as she struggled to forget the way he had kissed her in the gardens. Of course, she had seen the way he had looked to and fro in the gardens on their way back towards the ballroom and had realized, with a great twinge of sadness, exactly why he had done so.
The truth was, Lord Greville must have been shielding her from someone. A man lurking in the gardens, perhaps? Someone watching their movements, in an attempt to ascertain their identity and whether or not they had seen the murder? The Earl had kissed her so as to hide her face, as well as to show whoever was watching that they had made their way into the gardens for the sole purpose of a liaison. Whether it had convinced them was yet to be seen, but Violet had to admit that he had quite taken her breath away with such a kiss.
In truth, Violet had never been kissed — really kissed — before, and the experience was quite overwhelming. As the waltz began and Lord Greville held her in his arms, Violet struggled to know where to look, finding her gaze going – almost unwillingly – towards his mouth. He had a strong jaw and an almost penetrating gaze, which Violet saw, to her relief, was not fixed upon her. Rather, he was looking all about them as they twirled across the floor, never once losing his footing. He was a wonderful dancer.
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