by Beth Byers
She saw the pure pleasure in Jack’s gaze at seeing this man again. “None of that ‘sir’ nonsense. I believe you once called me Jack. It would be welcome once again.”
Jack, Mr. Morgan, and Violet followed the young man. He stuttered an assent before he gushed. “I read your article last month. It was just…just…”
Violet didn’t hide her grin as Jack’s cheeks tinged the slightest bit red. A person would have to know him fairly well to realize he was embarrassed. The young man had to have been only in his first couple of years of schooling, though maybe she thought so because he was baby-faced. His face was round with full lips, big brown eyes, and slick backed hair. There was too much vigor in those golden brown locks for a pomade to be effective, but he was valiantly attempting the style of the day.
Like Jack, Jeremiah Allen was a large man, though he had yet to come fully into his potential size. He was more the shadow of what was to come. He didn’t look much like his sister, if indeed she was. She was femininity personified. However, they did have the same color of eyes. They both had those full lips. They both had the same peaches and cream skin, probably far less desirable for the brother than the sister.
“I’ve been conducting some experiments. Have you read Dr. Thorpe’s essay on decomposing flesh?”
Violet shuddered, and Jack shot her a grin. “I have indeed. May I introduce my friend, Lady Violet Carlyle?”
Mr. Allen hadn’t seemed to even notice her before Jack introduced them, and when Mr. Allen turned his attention to her, his cheerful gaze faded. His gazed narrowed as he said, “Mr. Wakefield, I…Em…oh…” Mr. Allen flushed, nodded once, and said, “I believe I’m supposed to be seating others. An usher, don’t you know?” He fled before they could reply.
Violet watched the young man retreat. He’d known something about his sister, for there was no doubt now that Miss Allen was that. Was Miss Allen bemoaning that she’d lost Jack? Had she disparaged Violet to Mr. Allen?
“What the devil is wrong with that boy?” Mr. Morgan asked, turning to stare after Mr. Allen with eyebrows aiming down like furious arrows. “Unacceptable way to treat Lady Violet. He’s one of my lads, just added when another left me. Not sure I made the best choice there, but he was so enthusiastic. Worked as a general servant boy for whatever we needed for months before the last of my lads left. He already knew…anyhow. I apologize, Lady Violet.”
“It’s of little matter, Mr. Morgan. Cheer up, turn those eyebrows upside down.” She winked at him when he cast her a startled glance and then burst into a guffaw.
When he’d gathered himself, he told Jack, “I like this one so much more.”
Violet caught the ‘more,’ but she didn’t let her expression alter. She also caught the glance from Jack but carefully avoided his gaze.
The seats that had been reserved for them were at the front, and Mr. Barnes walked over to shake hands with Jack and Mr. Morgan just as a tall, slim man stepped up to the podium and gathered the attention of the attendees. Mr. Barnes kissed Violet’s cheek before returning to his seat as his introduction began.
Violet had known that Jack and Mr. Barnes had been compatriots during the war but not the honors that Mr. Barnes had attained. She hadn’t been aware of his degree from the university or the well-known cases that he had solved. In the end, she’d only known that Jack loved the man like a brother and that he was one of the few men that Jack held in true esteem.
Violet had intended to pay close attention to Mr. Barnes’s speech, but her mind was caught in the ‘more’ of Mr. Morgan’s comment. He had been, of course, referring to Miss Allen and supposedly liking Violet more. How could he come to that conclusion after a short walk unless Jack had been talking to him about Violet? Unless he’d generally despised Miss Allen. Jack and Miss Allen had been betrothed and all his friends here had known her well. There was history there, Violet thought, and rather a lot of it. How did she feel about it?
She reminded herself that Jack was older than she. Even Violet had romantic associations before Jack, but he’d been the only one who had captured her heart. He had no reason to be jealous of those who’d come before him, and the same should apply to her even if he’d been betrothed while she hadn’t.
With her eyes fixed on Mr. Barnes, Violet wondered what had happened between Miss Allen and Jack. Violet could feel Jack’s gaze on her here and there. Each time, he returned his attention to his friend before Violet met his eyes. She tilted her head and pretended to listen, but she wasn’t interested in the efficacy of fingerprints or the ways to detect poison. Those sciences could be betrayed, and she’d meddled in enough of Jack’s previous cases to feel that it was the person who was of most intrigue. Violet had no intention of getting fingerprinting powder and a magnifying glass or putting on the hat of a bobbie.
She wouldn’t have normally come with Jack to this type of event. She’d been persuaded by the idea of a day on the water. Maybe she should consider a few weeks by the sea? Violet wondered if Jack would join them. Maybe if she and Victor took their ward, Ginny, it would be reason enough for Kate to be able to escape her mother and rejoin them as well. She was, after all, engaged to Victor. The time for Mrs. Lancaster to loosen her hold on her daughter had long since come and gone.
Violet’s attention was distracted from her inner-monologue with a whispered argument behind her. Jack was slowly stiffening as people glanced their way, but the villains were seated almost directly behind them. Vi slipped her hand into Jack’s jacket pocket, took his handkerchief, and dropped it.
As she leaned down to pick it up, she spied Jeremiah Allen arguing with two other students and his sister. As they hissed back and forth, Miss Allen silenced her brother with a sharp elbow to the ribs, a smooth smile on her face and every hair in place. The cold look she still managed to shoot his companions snapped their mouths closed.
Violet sat upright, glancing at Jack out of the corner of her eye, and caught his half-smirk as she handed him back his handkerchief. She took her fan from her handbag—-an actual fan this time—and waved it on both of them as Mr. Barnes carried on without reflecting an ounce of distraction by the young fools seated behind them.
The lecture ended, and with it, Violet and Jack rose to congratulate Mr. Barnes on quite an absorbing talk. It was all lies on Violet’s part, given she hadn’t really listened, and Mr. Barnes was quite observant enough to know she was giving him idle compliments, but he grinned as she waxed on. She finally sputtered to an end with a rather pathetic slew of adjectives, to his clear amusement.
Mr. Allen, however, picked up where Violet petered out. His companions hadn’t elbowed their way forward as the young man had. They were watching from the sidelines, shooting him rather alarming looks as they hissed back and forth.
They came to a quick stop in their argument when Mr. Morgan approached them. His eyebrows were ferociously downturned and whatever he said had both of the students paling, nodding frantically, and making their way to the rear of the lecture hall.
Chapter 4
Violet excused herself to the powder room, and when she approached the mirror she found Miss Allen waiting, leaning against a table that had been set up for the ladies to check their makeup or freshen their hair.
“I was hoping I’d have a chance to speak with you.” Miss Allen smiled smoothly, without the expression ever reaching those golden brown orbs. “Just us girls.”
Ominous, Violet thought, but she remained outwardly unruffled as though she didn’t feel hunted. How odd it was to be tracked down by the woman that Jack had once wanted to marry. Violet opened her handbag and pulled out her lipstick. With a precise hand, she applied the red lip, blotted it, and repeated the measure. She touched up her powder next, all the while waiting for Miss Allen to speak.
“I was hoping for a favor,” Miss Allen said, with those cold brown eyes fixed on Violet’s naked ring finger, as she ran a brush through her hair and replaced her headpiece.
Violet lifted a brow, meeting those honey eyes
with her own dark ones. She straightened her strand of turquoise beads and smoothed the fringe of her dress, waiting silently for Miss Allen to expand on that startling statement.
Miss Allen seemed to give up on making Violet reply. It had been a ploy to make Violet open herself up, and Vi was far beyond those kind of games.
“My brother Jeremiah seems to have need…perhaps need is too strong of a word. He requires assistance. If Jack could step in…” Miss Allen trailed off, either unwilling to continue or attempting to prompt a response from Violet.
Violet relented. “With the university?”
“With Jeremy’s professors. Look, Jack might not seem like it, but he’s a bit of a brainy fellow and he’s kept friendly with these types. That Mr. Morgan for instance. Jeremy has wanted to be just like Jack since he and I were…intended. Jeremy needs help. He’s made a blunder of things and doesn’t even see it. He keeps bullishly pushing ahead, ruining his life.”
“Jack is who you need to ask about this, Miss Allen.” Violet clicked her handbag closed.
“He’ll say no.” There was no doubt in Miss Allen’s voice. “Jeremy’s theory about the murder of some girl is ridiculous.”
“No? To a boy he once mentored?” Violet didn’t think so, but she wouldn’t be making any promises for Jack. “As you know, Jack Wakefield—”
“Will do anything for the woman he loves. I know that better than anyone—” Miss Allen’s eyes drifted over Violet’s face, and then the woman begrudgingly added, “except perhaps for yourself.”
“You’ll still need to ask Jack. I am not his secretary nor am I his conscience.” Violet spun on her heel. “A pleasure, Miss Allen.”
Violet started to open the door when Miss Allen smoothly said, “I figured it out, you know. V.V. Twinnings. It’s not really that clever, is it?”
Violet closed her eyes. She could hear her stepmother’s diatribe as if she were hearing an echo from the future. Something so horrible it rebounded both ways through time.
Violet opened the door and left without replying. She stepped outside of the lecture hall for a few minutes to recover her temper before she returned to Jack’s side.
Of all the cheek! Did Miss Allen truly believe that she could just…just…force Violet—and through Violet, Jack—to do the bidding of the harridan? And Jack had loved that woman? Loved her enough to marry her? Had those penetrating eyes of his been blinded? He’d actually dreamed of children with her someday? Violet’s only hope was that the woman had changed dramatically since Jack had thought to wed her.
When she returned to the lecture hall, she found Miss Allen standing next to Jack with her hand on his arm. Violet paused, staring at the group. They seemed to know each other quite well. Not one of the people gathered were reacting to seeing the two together. Miss Allen was standing rather too close to Jack for Violet’s liking, but Violet would be damned if she’d allow the woman to play Violet like an instrument.
Violet approached and heard one of the men say, “I wondered if you’d be here, Jack. It has been too long.” They shook hands heartily and then the fellow nodded to Miss Allen and said, “Lovely as always, Em. Saw your brother running about.”
One of the other men snorted and a couple of them shot him a sharp glance. Violet noted the interaction, as did Miss Allen, who flushed lightly.
Mr. Barnes saw Violet and stepped back enough to give her space next to him. She stepped into the circle, placing her hand on his arm, and saw Jack focus on that hand. It was all rather untenable, wasn’t it? Miss Allen was using his manners against him and Violet’s secrets against herself and her twin. Miss Allen worming her way into their relationships, especially with whatever had been bothering Jack hanging over the both of them.
“Have you met Miss Allen?” Mr. Morgan asked Violet a few minutes later, when the conversation allowed. His eyebrows maneuvered about his face as though he seemed to expect Violet to fall into semi-hysterics to see Jack with his former-betrothed.
“Indeed,” Violet told him. “I feel I am discovering her nature with each passing moment.”
Jack and Miss Allen both shot Violet sharp glances, but Mr. Morgan simply shuffled those epic eyebrows about his face and introduced Violet to the rest of the company before anyone descended into a catfight. The fellows returned to the investigative techniques, and Violet let her mind wander.
“We’re probably boring you,” Mr. Morgan said a few minutes later, when Violet glanced over her shoulder.
“Lady Carlyle is rather too clever when it comes to such things. Don’t be distracted by her bright eyes. She’s got a wicked wit as well,” Mr. Barnes told the others. “If she’s bored, it’s because she isn’t hearing anything new.”
“You’re pouring it on rather thickly, Mr. Barnes,” she told him. “I will have to deflate my ego before I am able to return home, should you keep these unwarranted compliments up.”
Mr. Barnes squeezed her fingers and laughed heartily. He changed the subject, but a few minutes later, Miss Allen took the attention to herself. She commented on his speech and inquired into one of his recent cases. It was clear that Miss Allen knew what she was speaking of and had come prepared. Her lashes fluttered as she tried to charm Mr. Barnes. Violet hadn’t been paying much attention to the cases that Mr. Barnes was working or any of the cases that had ended up in Jack’s lap, but she saw Miss Allen’s compliments for what they were. She was using her wiles on Mr. Barnes to get quotes for her article.
They chatted for several minutes and the circle around Mr. Barnes thinned as people said their good-byes. They were left with Jack, Miss Allen on his arm, and Violet, her hand on the crook of Mr. Barnes’s elbow. Mr. Morgan was standing between the two couples, his gaze focused on the students who had lingered.
“It’s been a while, Emily,” Mr. Morgan said. “I didn’t expect you to come.”
She smiled prettily. “I’m here as a sister and for the Piccadilly Press. Have you met my brother, Jeremiah Allen? He says he’s been in some of your lectures.”
“Ah, yes.”
“He waxes on and on about you,” Miss Allen told Mr. Morgan, who didn’t seem to be flattered. When that compliment didn’t work, she let go of Jack to place her hand on Mr. Morgan’s arm. She leaned towards him, giving a rather full glimpse of her bosom. “Oh Daniel, I did want to convey my condolences about the loss of your niece. I…she…I liked her so much.”
“Thank you,” he said rather sharply, and turned to Mr. Barnes to change the subject.
Violet’s interest was piqued, but she kept her expression even. Was this dead niece the young woman in the pictures and paintings Violet had seen? How had she died? The influenza? Something else? A terrible auto accident? Drowning? Illness?
Violet veiled her eyes as she reexamined the men and thought about Miss Allen. Vi had noted the first-name basis, which supported her idea that they all knew each other well. She felt very much like the odd duck out in a bevy of swans. But then again, those gents had been nice enough to Miss Allen, while Mr. Morgan hadn’t softened when Miss Allen had started up with the womanly ploys.
In fact, none of them had. Mr. Barnes had seemed fully aware each time Miss Allen had complimented him. These were men who weren’t beguiled by women—or at least by Miss Allen. What had her intentions been? Was she simply hoping they’d stumble into saying something valuable for her paper? Something for her to prove her worth against the person who had been intended to write this article?
As if reading Violet’s mind, Mr. Morgan said, “I believe you normally cover more women’s events, do you not?” He looked to Violet. “Miss Allen is a reporter.”
“So, I’ve heard,” Violet told him. “We were discussing on the train how I also enjoy writing and playing with words.”
Miss Allen smiled that smooth, flirtatious smile as she eyed Mr. Morgan, but her tone was condescending as she said, “It is playing, isn’t it, when one is blessed with quite an income? I believe our paper wrote about your inheritance. Quite scan
dalous, wasn’t it?”
Violet didn’t let her serene expression slip. “I’m afraid so.”
“Nothing to do with Vi.” Jack’s tone was sharp, and Miss Allen’s expression smoothed from carefully vicious into innocent as she glanced towards him.
“Life’s but a walking shadow,” Violet quoted, “a poor player that struts and frets his hour upon the stage and then is heard no more. It is a tale told by an idiot…” Violet shrugged to Miss Allen. “I think we’re mostly playing at life. We pretend to be capable in our work, in our interactions, in our family. Sometimes we might surprise ourselves, but more often than not we’re stumbling through our part, doing what is expected, and constantly fighting our true self. That lazy layabout we all have inside who wants nothing more than a bottle of wine, a sunny garden, and a hound at our feet.”
“Perhaps for you as an earl’s daughter,” Miss Allen shot back. “As a mere commoner who had to scrape and struggle—”
“Come now, Emily,” Mr. Barnes interrupted with a snort. “Your father is as rich as Croesus, and you work because you want to. The same with Jack, who, I know for a fact, stumbled through most of our early cases, discovering the killer more by pure, idiotic luck. I was certainly playacting this evening as I gave my speech, assuming confidence I can promise you I did not feel.”
“So you always say when you talk about my early cases,” Jack said, “and yet discover them I did. Perhaps it was simply unwitting brilliance?” Jack faced Miss Allen, ending the conversation with, “I believe we’re supposed to hurry along to Morgan’s for dinner. Shall we see you at the reception, Emily?”
“I’m planning on it.” She eyed Violet and then left.
“Is that young fellow, Jeremiah Allen, related to Emily?” Mr. Barnes asked. “The one the boys were making low-level jibes about before Emily appeared?”