by Anna Bradley
“I’m so sorry, dear. I never meant to worry you. I thought I’d be back long before you woke, but as you can see, no harm’s come to me, and you know how Bridget exaggerates. There, another breath. That’s better.”
But it wasn’t better, because no sooner had Hyacinth gotten a breath than she began to pant again. “I saw you, Violet.” She pointed a wobbly finger at the door. “I heard a carriage, so I watched out the window, and it’s the same c-c-carriage I saw this afternoon, and then when it turned down the drive I saw the crest. You were out with Lord Dare, alone, at night, in his carriage, and he’s a dr-dr-dr-dreadful rake, and now I’m certain you must be r-r-ruined!”
Violet’s eyes slid closed in despair. She’d made a mistake, venturing out after dark. She’d gotten her sketch, yes, but if Lord Dare hadn’t happened along when he did she might very well have paid for it with her neck, and as it was she’d sent her sister into a nervous attack with her reckless behavior.
Violet patted and soothed and murmured until Hyacinth’s breathing calmed. “I’m not ruined, Hyacinth. I swear to you. Lord Dare isn’t a…oh, very well, he is a dreadful rake, yes, but he didn’t do anything untoward tonight. In fact, he did me a good turn.”
He had clasped her in his arms and carried her to his carriage, but he hadn’t had much choice under the circumstances, and anyway, she hadn’t been coherent enough to enjoy it, and she refused to count anything she hadn’t enjoyed as an impropriety. Pity she’d been unconscious for most of it—she would have liked more time to assess how it felt to be carried in Lord Dare’s arms. Or any gentleman’s arms, come to that. Well, any gentleman with a chest as solid as Lord Dare’s, and she’d prefer one who smelled as nice as he did.
“Wh-what kind of good turn?” Hyacinth had caught her breath, and now she was looking at Violet with dark suspicion. “What happened?”
“Well, I took Bridget out to Cockpit Steps, and while we were there, there was a bit of an upset with a…well, with a footpad, but it’s nothing to fret over,” Violet added hastily when Hyacinth’s face paled. “Lord Dare happened to come along at just the right moment, and he was kind enough to escort me safely home.”
He had been kind. Arrogant and overbearing, too, of course, but kind, and a good deal more solicitous of her safety than Violet would have expected him to be. Guilty pleasure swelled in her chest when she recalled the concern in his eyes when she’d roused from her faint and found him staring down at her. Of course, he’d be anxious for any lady who’d been attacked—his concern hadn’t anything to do with her at all—but even so, it had been his silvery-gray gaze she’d held onto in those first few blurry moments she’d struggled to swim back to consciousness.
And then he’d gone back for her sketchbook, too, without knowing whether or not the footpad he’d felled had regained consciousness. The truth was, aside from pawing through her private drawings, Lord Dare had been quite gallant this evening. She wouldn’t have expected it of him—not after what she’d witnessed in Lord Derrick’s library—but it seemed Lord Dare had more to offer a lady than thrusting hips and head injuries.
“What were you and Bridget doing out alone at Cockpit Steps? I could hardly get a word of sense out of Bridget—she kept raving about blood-stained gowns, and some poor lady who’d lost her head.”
Violet rolled her eyes. For pity’s sake, Bridget was hopeless at holding her tongue. “Oh, that. I was taking a sketch. You’ve heard the rumor about the soldier in the Horse Guards who murdered his wife, haven’t you? The story goes that he beheaded her, and was caught out with her body before he could rid himself of it. Now his poor dead wife drifts about, hovering between the Cockpit Steps and St. James’s Park—searching for her head, in my opinion.”
“What a ghastly story. No, I hadn’t heard it, and I’d just as soon not have heard it tonight, because it’s vile.” Hyacinth paused, her gaze narrowing on Violet. “But I should have guessed this business was somehow related to your book.”
Violet was a little offended to hear the word “vile” used in such close association to her precious book, and she was tempted to deny tonight’s adventure had anything to do with it, but it was no use trying to lie about it. Hyacinth was shockingly perceptive, especially when it came to her sisters.
“Oh, very well—yes, it’s for the book, the chapter about haunted London. I’ve made such good progress, Hyacinth, and now with Grandmother away in Bath—”
“She may be away, Violet, but Iris and Finn are here, and they expect us to arrive at their house tomorrow morning, so don’t imagine you’ll be permitted to run about London at all hours.”
Violet didn’t answer. In theory Hyacinth was right, but Iris was a great deal easier to persuade than their grandmother, and ever since that heartbreaking business with Lord Derrick, Iris had been particularly supportive of Violet’s book.
Lord Derrick.
Violet’s brows rose in surprise. How odd. Between the visit to the burial grounds and the headless ghost and being swept into Lord Dare’s arms, she hadn’t thought about Lord Derrick at all today.
“How did Lord Dare happen to become involved in this?” Hyacinth, who could be as persistent as any of the Somerset sisters when her temper was roused, refused to allow Violet to stray from the point. “I can’t think of any reason short of ruination why you’d come home in his carriage, Violet.”
Violet hesitated. Dear God, what a tangle. Still, she’d made up her mind on the carriage ride home to tell Hyacinth the whole of it, after she’d sworn her to secrecy, of course. It wouldn’t do for Iris’s husband Finn to discover what she was about. He was the protective sort, and likely to overreact about a tiny, inconsequential thing like a clandestine courtship. In truth, Violet didn’t even want Hyacinth to know about it, but she had to tell her, because she needed her sister’s cooperation for her scheme to work.
“There’s no ruination. He’s…well, he’s courting me, except he thinks—”
“Courting you? But how can he be courting you? You’ve never even been introduced to him!”
Violet opened her mouth to object, but then it occurred to her Hyacinth was right—she hadn’t ever been formally introduced to Lord Dare. It was a rather sudden courtship, and a decidedly odd one, now she thought of it. Lord Dare couldn’t have any honorable reason for such a determined pursuit of a lady he hardly knew, but Violet didn’t much care what his reasons were. She wasn’t going to marry him. A lady didn’t marry a gentleman who mistook her for her sister, and she certainly didn’t marry one who’d make such shameless use of a private library at a perfectly respectable dinner party.
No matter how entertaining it had been.
But she might encourage his courtship for reasons of her own—reasons that hadn’t a thing to do with marriage—particularly if he was a large, strong, and imposing man who’d make an ideal escort for a lady who might occasionally find a need to venture into the less, ah…ladylike parts of London.
Of course, any lady who would consider doing such an underhanded thing must be very, very wicked, and Violet didn’t like to think of herself as a villainess. An adventuress, yes, but lying, sneaking about and betraying her family’s trust, toying with a gentleman’s affections…
Except there were no affections in this case. It wasn’t as if Lord Dare were in love with her, or even with Hyacinth, for that matter. No gentleman who was truly in love mistook his beloved for her sister, no matter how alike they were. No, he had his own reasons for insisting on this courtship, just as she did, and if she chose to make the most of her opportunities, well, she was no worse than he was, was she?
And it wasn’t as if she hadn’t tried to dissuade him. She had—she’d even dragged him to a burial ground and made him stand about in the rain while she dug about in a plague pit for bones, for goodness’ sake! Why, she’d done everything she could think of to get rid of him.
Well, not quite everything…
>
She hadn’t told him she wasn’t Hyacinth.
But if he knew the truth he might take it into his head to turn his attentions to her sister, and Violet couldn’t risk that happening. Lord Dare might be a rake, but he was also an earl, and one never knew what Lady Chase might do if an earl should decide to court Hyacinth. There was a chance their grandmother might approve of Lord Dare as a suitor, and Hyacinth could end up countess to a wicked debaucher who’d nearly concussed Lady Uplands.
No, it wouldn’t do. Violet was much better equipped to handle an arrogant earl like Lord Dare than her younger sister was.
“I insist upon knowing what you’re up to, Violet. Tell me this instant, or I’m going to tell Iris Lord Dare brought you home in his carriage tonight, and then she’ll write to Grandmother, and Iris will tell Finn, too, and then Finn will challenge Lord Dare to a duel and shoot him between the eyes, and—”
“Hush, will you?” Violet put her hand to her forehead and tried to think. “I’m going to tell you. I’m just trying to find the best way to put it.”
Hyacinth’s face fell. “Oh, no. If you have to think so carefully about it, it means you’re about to do something you know very well you shouldn’t.”
“No, but I grant you it’s a bit complicated.” Perhaps the best thing to do was to just say it and get it over with. Violet sucked in a deep breath, threw her shoulders back, and met her sister’s gaze.
“Very well. If you must know, it’s just this: Lord Dare intended to court you, only he mistook me for you at Lord and Lady Derrick’s supper party, and he hasn’t yet figured out his error, so even though he thinks he’s courting you, he’s really been courting me instead, by mistake. So you see, it’s nothing so shocking, when you think about it. Just a little misunderstanding, and we do look quite a lot alike, after all.”
But Hyacinth appeared to find it shocking, indeed, because her face paled and her mouth fell open. “B-but this doesn’t make any sense. Why should he want to court me? I don’t even know him! I’m not sure I’d even r-recognize him again if I saw him, and how do you know he’s mistaken the two of us?”
Violet sighed. Hyacinth wasn’t taking this at all well. “Because the night of the dinner party he accosted me in Lord Derrick’s drawing room to compliment me on my pianoforte performance. Have you ever heard anyone compliment me on my playing, Hyacinth?”
“Well, no, but—”
“He said something about the Haydn. Did you play Haydn that night?”
“Yes, but—”
“He heard you play, admired you, and waited for you in the drawing room afterwards to compliment you, but you’d left with Iris and Finn by then. Honora told me you’d forgotten your wrap, so I went back into the drawing room to fetch it after you left, and Lord Dare was still there. He thought I was you, paid his compliments, and what do you think? He called the very next day. As luck would have it, you were out with Grandmother at the time. He doesn’t know you have an unmarried elder sister, so he asked for Miss Somerset, not Miss Hyacinth, and naturally Eddesley brought me to him.”
Hyacinth looked dazed. “Goodness, that’s an odd series of mishaps, isn’t it? But why didn’t you simply explain to him he’d mistaken one sister for the other when he called? It was very wrong of you not to do so at once, Violet.”
Violet shrugged. “I didn’t see the point. I made it clear to him I didn’t choose to accept his calls. Naturally I thought he’d abide by my wishes and that would be the end of it, but I tell you, Hyacinth, the man refuses to be discouraged. He’s like an insect that persists in buzzing about no matter how many times you swat at it.”
“Hmm. It sounds to me as if he’s enamored of you. Why else would he be so persistent?”
“Enamored?” Violet snorted. “Hardly. I’d sooner call it intolerable arrogance, but then he’s terribly handsome, and charming, too, and no doubt he believes he can change your—that is, my mind. Whatever his reasons—and I doubt they’re honorable ones—he’s determined to have you as his bride.”
Hyacinth reached behind her with a shaking hand, grasped the newel post, and lowered herself to the bottom stair. “B-bu-but I don’t want to marry Lord Dare!”
Violet squeezed onto the stair beside Hyacinth and took her hand. “Of course you don’t, dear. No lady wants to marry a man like that. He’s an utter rogue. But you won’t have to, don’t you see? After a few weeks of courting me he’ll lose interest, give up the chase, and move on to some other lady.”
It all made perfect sense to Violet, but Hyacinth was shaking her head. “That’s nonsense, Violet. Why, he’s just as likely to fall in love with you as he is to give up the courtship. You’re lovely, and so clever and funny and brave. Even a rogue like Lord Dare can’t fail to recognize that.”
Clever, funny, and brave—oh, my, yes. Those were just the qualities every gentleman wanted in a wife, especially the handsome, fashionable, titled ones. “Gentlemen don’t fall in love with me, Hyacinth. You know that.”
Hyacinth didn’t often get into a temper, but now her brows lowered into a dangerous scowl. “I don’t know any such thing! Just because Lord Derrick fell in love with Honora doesn’t mean no gentleman will ever—”
Violet let out a quiet sigh. She didn’t wish to have this argument again, so she squeezed Hyacinth’s hand to hush her. “Perhaps some gentleman will, someday, but it won’t be Lord Dare. He’s…well, he’s not the sort of man who will ever admire a lady like me.”
Hyacinth’s lips turned down in a frown. “I don’t see why not.”
Violet didn’t answer, because her sister didn’t want to hear that a man like Lord Dare—a man with such remarkable gray eyes and such a perfect, playful smile—would never look twice at a bluestocking like her. He was the sort of man who belonged with the belle of her season, not an odd young lady with ink stains on her hands who preferred dusty libraries to elegant dance floors, and whose playing sounded like an elephant stomping over the pianoforte keys.
Violet had accepted herself for who she was long ago. She’d never wished to be anyone else, but she also tried not to indulge in fairy tales of true love. She’d only ever done so once, and it had led to a broken heart. She didn’t intend to make that mistake again.
Love might make fools of everyone else, but it wouldn’t make a fool of Violet.
Still, fate had offered her other gifts to compensate for the lack of romance, and if she was a bit selfish in pursuing her love of learning, well…she wasn’t any more selfish than any other young lady in love, was she?
“Lord Dare intends to call on me tomorrow, to inquire after my health.” Violet turned pleading eyes on her sister. “You’ll have to be gone by then, so he doesn’t see you, and you’ll need to make my excuses to Iris, as well.”
“You expect me to hide from Lord Dare so you can continue to lie to him?”
Violet bit her lip. It sounded rather bad when Hyacinth put it that way, but it wasn’t, really. She didn’t intend to hurt anyone, after all. Lord Dare would doubtless be irritated to find she’d tricked him, but it wasn’t as if she’d break his heart. The very idea was ludicrous.
“I wouldn’t put it like that, exactly. There’s no need to make it sound so underhanded.”
“But it is underhanded, Violet! How would you put it?”
“I, ah—I simply need you to keep out of sight so he doesn’t discover there are two of us.”
Hyacinth’s lips pinched together. “That’s what I said. You expect me to hide from Lord Dare so you can continue to lie to him. Why can’t you just confess the truth, beg his pardon, and send him on his way? He won’t want either of us once he discovers you’ve deceived him.”
Violet shot her sister a guilty look. “I can’t. I need him.”
Hyacinth groaned, and let her head fall into her hands. “I don’t suppose I have to ask for what. It’s the book, of course. He’ll think he’s cou
rting you, when really you’re just keeping him about to scare off the footpads.”
“Something like that,” Violet admitted, an uncomfortable pang of guilt piercing her chest. Lord Dare really had done her a good turn tonight. She’d been terrified when she felt that blackguard’s hand close around her throat. There was no telling what might have happened if Lord Dare hadn’t defended her, and then he’d been so chivalrous about fetching her sketchbook…
Rake or not, didn’t he deserve better than to be lied to?
Hyacinth seemed to think so, because she was gaping at Violet with a horrified expression. “I’m shocked at you, Violet! My goodness, the lying is bad enough, but to use a gentleman in such a way? It’s not like you to be so devious.”
Heat rose in Violet’s cheeks, but at the same time a rebellious spark flickered to life in her chest. “I don’t see how my behavior is any more devious than that of the young ladies who crowd Almack’s in search of a wealthy aristocrat.”
Ladies all over England married gentlemen for their titles and fortunes—didn’t that also amount to using them? Why should she be held to a higher standard than other young ladies were, simply because her goals were different? And anyway, in a just society she wouldn’t need Lord Dare at all. It wasn’t her fault ladies weren’t permitted to go about the city as they pleased.
“I don’t care about other young ladies, Violet. I only care about you, and this preoccupation you have with your book is…well, as lovely as your book is, I’m afraid you’re hiding behind it.”
Violet tensed. Hyacinth had never said such a thing to her before. “How am I hiding?”
“After what happened last season, and then Lord Derrick…” Hyacinth sighed. “You’re afraid of getting hurt again, but don’t you see? A book is paper and ink only—it can never take the place of real life, Violet. You’ll only hurt yourself if you try and make it do so, and you’ll hurt those who care about you, as well.”
