by Beth Byers
He did.
She kept the revolver aimed at the fellow as she dug through the servant’s drawers and pulled out a pair of silk stockings. These had to be a luxury, but she would happily give whoever’s room this was a half-dozen pairs.
“Hands behind your back.”
“Biggie is a mean guy,” the man said. “You don’t want to cross him.”
“I don’t have a choice,” Violet told him. “I heard what he said about the babies.”
The man winced. “You could save one.”
Violet didn’t deign to respond to that nonsense. She just waited until the man had turned away from her with his hands behind his back and then realized she’d put herself and the babies at risk if she dared to try to bind him.
“Geoffrey,” Violet hissed. “I need your help.”
A moment later, he opened the door. She handed him the revolver and he held it with shaking hands while Violet quickly tied the man. She tied his wrists, his elbows, and then bound him about his mouth.
“Is that the last of them?” Geoffrey whispered. “What’s happening?”
“Take the babies into another room,’ Violet told him. “Victor has been persuaded from the house.”
“How do you know?”
“Because they’re here,” Violet replied quietly, nodding at the bound man. She eyed her little brother. “He’ll be back soon, but I can’t have him walking into a trap.”
The sound of an auto on the drive punctuated her concern and Violet closed her eyes. The man was in the house and might be armed, and Victor wouldn’t hold back with his daughters at risk. She examined the room and decided there was only one thing to be done. She locked Geoffrey and the babies away again and then climbed back down the ivy, her descent aided as more ivy tore from the wall to hang ragged and broken. The gardener was going to be upset, but she’d pay him extra to trim it.
Victor would leave the auto at the front of the house, open the door for Kate, and then walk with her up the steps. Even if they were discussing the idiocy of whoever had persuaded them from the house, they’d never imagine that they’d been invaded. Violet landed on the grass behind the house and hurried around the side, back to the French doors at the library. The auto had been turned off. She peeked into the library. The guy she’d knocked unconscious had been untied and dragged into the room. He shifted where he lay on the floor, and she bit back another strident curse before she crossed to the fireplace and picked up a poker. She stood in the shadows of the doorway while the gent moved about, coming slowly to himself.
In the hall, Violet could hear Kate, “Of all the things, why would you pretend to be a scholar when you aren’t? It doesn’t make any sense, Victor.”
“I don’t know,” he said, sounding as if he didn’t care. He wasn’t a man who enjoyed learning for the sake of adding to one’s store of knowledge. Instead, he said, “I could use a cocktail, love. Would you like one?”
“I’d like the lights to be working. I need to check on the babies.” Kate’s next comment was muffled as the tap, tap of her running up the stairs. Violet heard Victor step into the parlor and then heard a dark curse from her brother.
“What’s this now?”
“Move it,” the low voice growled.
“Where’s my sister?” Victor demanded. Violet could understand what her brother was doing. She knew him too well not to. He wasn’t giving her away. The question was whether she was still in play or if she and Geoffrey had already been discovered and removed from the scenario.
“Sister?” the low voice growled, surprised.
Violet grinned. Idiots. He told Victor the one thing he needed to know. Violet was still in play and if anyone knew what that meant, it was Victor.
“Pretty devil might be a better term,” Victor said conversationally. “G&T?”
The man huffed. “You rich fools. Are you really going to make me a G&T before I lock you in the closet and steal you blind?”
“Are you now?” Victor asked, dropping ice loudly into the glass. “You’re underestimating m’sister.” Victor didn’t mention a weapon, which he would have if the man were armed hoping it would alert Violet.
“My boy has gone for the baby. Your sister and your wife will do whatever I want,” the low voice growled.
“Do you think so?” Violet heard the edge of a tremor in Victor’s voice and knew that the father in Victor was in full alarm.
“Know so. Women are all the same.”
Violet stepped into the hall and winked at Victor. The stress in his gaze faded immediately.
“Idiot,” Violet said. To her brother, she added, “He hadn’t met me yet.”
The man turned, but Violet swung the poker at him while Victor picked up a gin bottle and slammed it down on his head.
“Oh,” Violet said as the man dropped like a load of bricks. “Did we kill him?”
“Perhaps I did,” Victor said, taking the responsibility onto himself. It was removed from both of them when he growled and tried to rise. Violet leapt back while Victor leaned down and whacked him again.
“There’s one untied in the library,” Violet told her twin. “Also one in the poor maid’s room and another in the garden, but those two are bound.”
“Victor!” Kate called, “I can’t find the babies or Vi!”
“They’re upstairs in the servant’s rooms,” Violet called. “Perhaps stay with them while I go get the constables.”
“The constables?” Kate shrieked. “What? Why?”
Victor answered while Violet leaned over and took out a sheet from the big man’s jacket. It was a note from the ‘scholar’ about the jewelry they could find at Victor’s house. The idiots had spent so much time trying to break into the safe and taking the silver, they’d completely bypassed the vanity where Kate kept her pearls and diamonds. Easily at hand for Kate and easily taken for a smarter criminal.
“They really are fools,” Violet said, handing the signed note over to Victor.
“Lucky fools,” he replied. “You didn’t kill any of them, and Jack isn’t home to finish the murder.” With a wicked grin at his wife’s pale face, he said, “I told you we could trust Violet to keep the babies safe.”
The END
Part V
Warts & Wagers
Chapter 1
Author’s Note: This story was originally published in Christmas Madness and falls just before the events of A Jolly Little Murder.
The safe held an excess of riches. Beatrice was familiar with the jewelry cases crowding the safe, even with Lady Violet carrying her favorites with her to the country house. The top shelf where the piles of cash were kept, however, was something that Beatrice had rarely touched. She took one pile down and carefully counted out far more money than made her comfortable, locked up the rest, and then rushed to her room.
Beatrice felt as though she were being quite cheeky, carrying around that amount of ready money. Truth be told, she’d never handled quite that much before. Her mouth twisted. What if she were robbed?
The instinct to panic was hovering, but Lady Violet had trained Beatrice to act and focus on what she could do. What could she do? She could change from her light-weight dress to one fit for traveling, along with a pair of solid wool stockings and sturdy shoes. Follow with a jumper, a scarf, gloves. Packing a few things to see her through tracking down the children, that she could and needed to do.
Beatrice worked quickly. If she hurried, she could just catch one of the regular trains that would be leaving before long. Beatrice rang for the housemaid, a move she never normally would do, but the maid needed to telephone for a black cab while Beatrice packed.
Beatrice threw her clothes and necessaries into a bag, grabbed her coat and her cloche. She hadn’t even put on the hat when she rushed down the steps to the waiting black cab. The driver opened the door for her, and just as he went to close it, another body slid in beside her.
“Where are we off to then? Family holidays?”
Beatrice stare
d at Smith, wishing she was surprised. She was, however, very much unsurprised.
“Cat got your tongue, love?” He smiled at her with those perfect, angelic features, and she wondered—yet again—why he seemed intrigued by her. He was a golden angel. Brown eyes, blonde hair, a sort of constant light browning of the skin that proclaimed health. He’d manhandled her a time or two—without ever crossing her comfort level—so she could attest that his shoulders were strong enough to carry any burden she wanted. She was weak for shoulders and had to remind herself she couldn’t be trusted when it came to them.
If you were matched with a partner by looks, she was not his equal. She had regular features, but she wasn’t slim in the way that style demanded. Her hair was dark, her eyes were blue, she had even teeth, but her chin tended towards spotty, and she felt certain her bottom lip—oversized as it was—belonged on another person’s face. All the negatives being listed, she felt as though she might be described as cute. She was not, however, angelic.
Beatrice lifted her brow at him, and his charming grin only broadened. “Going back home for the holidays, love?” he repeated.
His intense gaze promised he could outwait her. She knew he could, so she didn’t bother to hedge. “Lady Violet’s ward, Ginny, and brother, Geoffrey, have gone off on a bit of an adventure. I’m just tracking them down and bringing them home.”
He bypassed all of the information that mattered to say, “I heard her tell you to call her Violet. I prefer Vi, myself. Perhaps an occasional Vee for flavor.”
“You will call her Mrs. Wakefield,” Beatrice ordered for what felt like the thousandth time.
He smirked slowly, eyes glinting with appreciation at her irritation.
Beatrice shook her head and counted herself grateful indeed that the black cab was stopping at the train station and she could escape him. She hopped out and paid the driver before rushing inside the station, but she was caught up by a strong hand on her arm.
“What are you doing here?” she gasped without turning. “Get back in the black cab!”
“I can’t resist a bit of a hunt. You should know that by now.”
“You are not invited.” She spun to face him, wishing the daggers she was sending through her gaze had the desired effect. Oh, he saw them and recognized what she was holding back, but if anything he was more intrigued.
“You need me,” he shot back, his own gaze glinting with interest.
“Finding a couple of wayward schoolchildren is something that even I can handle.”
Smith grinned and his arm snaked around her waist to tuck her against his side. She had to crane her head to look up at him.
“You need me,” he told her with that devil-may-care smirk.
Beatrice tried wriggling and failed. She slapped at his hand resting just about her hip but that just made him grin more and adjust his hand to her hip. It was far too intimate a gesture.
“I don’t need you. Oh! Where are the gentlemen to save a lady in distress?”
“That’s me,” he told her. “I’m just tagging along to save you.”
She slapped his hand again and snapped, “You’re the dragon.”
Her reply did not have the desired effect because he chuckled. “I don’t think you understand how this works, darling. If I’m the dragon, you’re caught.”
She went boneless and he laughed, keeping her upright against him until she caught herself and he released her. “I’m coming.”
“No,” she said, shouldering her bag and walking on. “Go find your own family for the holidays and leave me be.”
He didn’t answer, but she could feel his eyes on her. He paced after her like a…a…a lion stalking the poor gazelle. She wanted to turn on him and demand he go away, but she knew he wouldn’t. Repeating the request would just make them both exhausted.
“Not buying me a ticket was an interesting tactic,” Smith said, flopping into the seat opposite.
Beatrice had hoped she had lost him, even though he’d taken her overnight bag from her. All she had left was the cross-body leather bag that young men carried at university. It had appeared in her office one day, clearly used and also clearly from him. She’d considered rejecting it, but she did love it immediately.
She adjusted the bag on her lap and shot him a useless daggered glance that had him giving her quite a self-satisfied twist to his mouth.
“We’re hunting the wart and the brat.”
“Ginny isn’t a brat.”
Smith lifted a brow and Beatrice added, “She’s more like us than them.”
“She’s more like me than them,” Smith corrected. “You’re something entirely different, princess.”
“Why are you here?” she asked, ignoring that unwanted pet name. Her? A princess? She was a housemaid who’d jumped fates. Nothing more, and why he decided to bother with her she didn’t know.
“You need me.”
“I do not need you.”
“So you think you can find those two? Without me?”
“Yes,” she said flatly. “We know where they are. I’m just retrieving and escorting them home. Nothing more.”
“The second something goes sideways for those two, Lady Ginny’s dark side is going to come out and then you’ll never find them.”
Beatrice closed her eyes. “Lady? Why must you make everything a mockery?”
“Titles are stupid,” Smith said blandly. “If any member of that family deserves one, it’s the unflappable Ginny.”
He glanced to the side and Beatrice followed his gaze. Two of the women on that side of the aisle were staring. Beatrice didn’t blame them. She’d stared a time or two at him before he’d actually started noticing her and talking to her. Once you let the devil in, it was impossible to rid yourself of him.
Beatrice rolled her eyes and glanced out the window.
“What if we make a wager?”
“What if you go away?”
“At some point during this travesty, you’ll need me, and you’ll ask me for help—”
She closed her eyes. It would be so easy to just…just kick him in the shin! Lounging so casually while driving her straight to Bedlam.
“If you do ask for help—”
Beatrice took in a long, slow breath, praying for aid since mercy was clearly not coming her way.
“—you’ll spend however much time with me that I spend looking for those brats. An even exchange, if you will.”
Beatrice snapped her mouth closed before she kicked him in other places. “I don’t need your help.”
“Then the wager falls to nothing.”
“Then you’ll spend as much time as you’ve spent harassing me on this endeavor leaving me in peace.”
His grin was back, slow and charming. Devastating really. “You don’t want me to leave you be.”
“I—”
“You like me.”
Beatrice nibbled on her thumb, knowing it was a habit from Lady Violet, and admitted to herself. Yes, she did like him. Very much. He made her days brighter and made her feel things she had no intention of feeling.
But—despite those angelic looks, he was a devil. He probably had a wife and two children he was neglecting. He was certainly wanted for a series of crimes. He was a bad bet, and she knew it. Even if her blood raced, her heart skipped a beat, and her world brightened. He was too much of a risk.
“Those are my terms.” Beatrice met his gaze, using the expression she’d use for one she reserved for the nieces and nephews.
“I’m going to make you swallow those words,” he told her, reaching forward and taking her hand. She noticed the envious smile from across the aisle, and it left her all the more irritated. Especially when he grinned that devil’s grin.
“It’s not a deal unless you swear to answer a question for each hour—honestly.”
His gaze met hers. “You have questions, you can ask them now. No need to bargain for that, love.”
If he thought she wouldn’t, he was wrong. “I want your promis
e that you’ll tell me the truth.”
“You don’t believe anything I say.”
“Then you understand how serious I am when I tell you that if I find at any point you’re dishonest with me, I will end our friendship.”
“I don’t want to be your friend, Bea darling.”
She fought to keep her face impassive and then told him flatly, “Whatever we are will be over. If I can’t trust you, I won’t have you in my life.”
“I’ve never lied to you, Beatrice.”
She shook her head and faced the window, letting her gaze linger. She wished she could believe him, but in all honesty, she thought he breathed lies as easily as air.
Chapter 2
Beatrice knocked on the door of Mitchell Fitzhugh, who took one look at her and said, “He’s not here. The two of them left after a quarter-hour.”
“When was that?” Beatrice asked.
“Yesterday evening,” the man replied. He was as white and faded as Geoffrey, the boy he’d sired but not raised, and his gaze reflected a low level of concern. “I’m sure they’re home now. You’ve passed like ships in the night.”
Beatrice paused. There was something in the man’s face that seemed a lie. Instead of questioning further, though, she nodded and walked back to the train station. Smith paced after her like a bored lion, and she had to bite down on the inside of her cheek to keep herself from spinning at him. If he were anyone else, she’d have asked him if he thought Fitzhugh was holding something back, but he was who he was, and he’d claim he’d won the wager if she did.
She made her way to the train station window and asked after the schoolchildren.
The woman shook her head and then shot out, “I haven’t seen them. Same as I told the other guy. Haven’t seen them. I don’t know where they are, and I do think I’d remember. Asking me again, bribing me, none of it. It’s not gonna work.”
Beatrice stepped back, shocked until she put the pieces together. “That must be Lord Gerald.” Lady Violet had mentioned her older brother was on the hunt, too.