by Beth Byers
Jack nodded. “Quite a younger brother. I think the lad must be in his first year. I wouldn’t have thought to see him here, to be honest.”
“He got to me after my speech,” Mr. Barnes said. “Cut-off several others and about chattered my ear off until Morgan moved him along. Seems an excitable lad. He was the one writing me those letters that concerned me. I didn’t connect that he was Emily’s brother. I shall have to look him up if you agree the letters are as odd as I think.”
“He’s been making enemies among the lads,” Mr. Morgan said, as he began walking the direction Miss Allen took. “Prosing on with an assumption of expertise I can assure you he does not have. When you add in his age and the way he used our connection to worm himself into my group of assistants, well…he’s burning more bridges than he realizes.”
Mr. Barnes winced for Mr. Allen, as did Jack. Violet, however, wanted to see it all in action. What good fodder for her book if she decided to write a mystery.
That was a heartless thought, but she wasn’t feeling particularly generous towards the Allens.
“Ah. Unfortunate for the boy.” Jack held out his hand to Violet, who hesitated a moment before putting her hand in his, hating herself the moment she did. They, both Jack and Mr. Barnes, noted her hesitation. Oh! Those observant fellows! It was frustrating at times that Jack was as clever as he was.
Mr. Barnes stepped in to the rescue before the tension between Jack and Violet could ratchet up. “Now tell me, Violet, what is that brother of yours up to?”
“I assume you mean Victor and not the respectable Gerald?” She told Mr. Barnes the tale of Victor having sold the house he’d purchased while in his cups to another young fool, who had been drunkenly poetic over roses at their club. Victor, it seemed, knew men as rich and foolish as he, for he passed the house off sight-unseen on the description of the garden alone. The buyer was rich enough that Victor had been bragging he’d come out quite ahead in the deal, at least until Kate sat him down with a ledger and made him do the arithmetic.
They walked back to Mr. Morgan’s house where the dinner party and reception would be held, and Violet noted how Jack kept glancing at her. She tried to give him a reassuring look, but she wasn’t sure he bought it. Her silent scold continued, and she told herself that they were a young couple. She hadn’t hesitated to take his hand because she was jealous. She’d hesitated because she wasn’t sure she should tell Jack that his former betrothed was attempting to manipulate Violet into manipulating Jack. Vi felt quite sure that Jack would be enraged at the sheer idea.
Chapter 5
As they walked towards Mr. Morgan’s house, Mr. Barnes pulled ahead, drawing Mr. Morgan with him. It left Violet and Jack walking side-by-side with a measure of privacy. The sun had nearly set and the late dinner would be happening soon with an even later reception.
“Are you all right?” Jack’s tone had that extra something in it that had been worrying her.
She nodded and smiled brightly. She wasn’t ready to tell him of Miss Allen’s manipulations. Not before Mr. Barnes’s reception. Jack deserved to focus on his friend’s successes, not worry about the nonsense Miss Allen was attempting.
“I know you lie with your smiles at times, Vi.”
Violet licked her lips. “I was a bit surprised to discover her.” Violet paused, searching her mind for a way to convey her feelings.
Before she could, Jack sighed. “I suppose I should have told you about her.”
Violet lifted her brows and waited to see if he’d fill in the silence. She should have known better. He was the master of such games. She was playing them with him. Miss Allen was playing them with Violet. They were all too experienced with discovering truths to fall for such nonsenses.
“Did you expect to see her today?”
Jack shook his head.
“Then yes, eventually, you should have told me about her. But I am not angry that you were caught unawares. Would you have told me?”
“Yes. I suppose. She hasn’t mattered for some time. I don’t think about her anymore except to be glad that it all fell apart.”
“Tell me about her now?” Violet asked.
Jack placed his hand over where her hand was on his arm. He played with her fingers as he admitted, “I loved her once.”
She wasn’t sure what to say, so she decided to err on the side of silence. Did it hurt to know he’d loved someone else? By heavens, yes. But she knew he loved her now, and she caught the ‘once.’ It was a relationship that had been before Violet. It had ended before Violet. She wasn’t going to be a jealous ninny. She didn’t need to be, even she knew that.
“She broke me for a while. I never intended to love again, Vi. I never expected to love like I love you. I didn’t even realize what I felt for Em was a shadow of the possibilities of true loving.”
Violet looked up at his face. “I didn’t know I could be jealous.” She only confessed it because they were being painfully honest, even if she hadn’t allowed herself to admit it until that moment. “I didn’t enjoy it.”
“You don’t have to be jealous when it comes to me, Vi. Not ever.”
She squeezed his arm. “That goes for you as well.”
He lifted her hand to his lips, pressed a kiss on the tips of her fingers, and then he nodded to the North Star. “Lovely evening despite everything. Did you know Ham gave me quite the scold?”
“With one fierce look?” Violet was sure that Mr. Barnes had done nothing more if he’d done even that.
“For Ham, he might as well have been shouting. He never liked Em. He loves you. Told me if you left me, he’d lose several stone and throw himself at your feet.” Violet laughed as Jack lifted a brow. “He was serious, I think.”
“You are both nonsensical,” Violet told him, as they turned onto the street where they were staying. Mr. Morgan and Mr. Barnes were several houses ahead of the two of them, and Violet and Jack slowed even more.
“Time for inane chatter,” Jack warned her.
“Mm. They’ll all be trying to get you to tell them about your cases so they can bask in your brilliance. You and your Ham will be stars of the show.”
“They’ll be curious about you, Lady Violet. Rumors have begun about how you’ve discovered so many murderers.”
Violet laughed as they walked up the steps to Mr. Morgan’s well-lit house. “I think you mean they’ve discovered and targeted me. The only reason anyone talks about it at all is that I went shopping in London when I had my cracked ribs and broken collarbone. If I hadn’t lost my wardrobe, I wouldn’t have been caught out to start the rumor mill spinning.”
Mr. Morgan’s butler opened the door as they approached up the steps.
“Oh, lovely,” Jack said unhappily as they passed the parlor. “They’re gathering in here.”
Violet sympathized, then excused herself to go upstairs and freshen her makeup and hair, straighten her jewelry, and leave her wrap before returning to the party. When she exited her room, Jack was waiting.
“I didn’t want to face them without you.”
“You’re avoiding another conversation with Miss Allen on your arm,” Violet said, but she was pleased. “What’s her intent, I wonder, to claim you like that? Perhaps she wishes to step back into her role as your beloved.”
He grinned in reply, and she knew she’d gotten it right. “I need your protection, darling. Save me.”
“Stop it with your nonsense.” She winked at him and then buffed her nails on her shoulder. “I suppose I can sharpen my knives and prepare to defend your honor.”
“Shall I give you a favor to carry into battle?”
They’d made it to the parlor, and Violet’s laugh caused several heads to turn. Jack nodded in greeting to a few of them, and Mr. Morgan led his selected guests into dinner.
As they walked into the dining room, Violet heard one of the men saying, “I understand he’s been quite a bit of trouble lately. They found him snooping through Professor Snag’s office, and Snag kicked
the boy out of his seminar.”
“He’s an ambitious lad who needs a keeper. That father of his does nothing but throw money at the problems the boy causes, and his sister is nearly as nosey as he is. Wouldn’t mind him throwing money my way to put up with the boy. Suspect that’s why Morgan added him to his lads despite all the ill feelings. Emily’s father probably owns a good percentage of that Piccadilly Press if I have my guess.”
Violet’s brows lifted, but the gentlemen stopped speaking when they realized that Violet and Jack could hear them. Jack’s face was a study in evenness and Violet had no idea what he was thinking from those comments. Did he care about what they were saying? He more than anyone here would have a good idea of the reality of that situation.
In the awkward opening, Jack introduced the men to Violet, and she saw their glances move from herself to someone behind her.
Violet didn’t need to guess. The lilting voice that carried into the room was all the answer Vi needed. Miss Allen, indeed. Violet pasted a polite smile on her face as though she were entirely unbothered by the woman’s presence.
They didn’t linger over the late dinner, as the reception would be a late one as well. It was too hot for a feast, so Mr. Morgan had wisely offered cool soup, cold hams, bread and cheese. Perhaps not a typical dinner, but the right one for the weather. The men didn’t stay for their smoke and port, and they moved as a group into the reception room where the first of the reception guests were arriving.
One of the earliest was Jeremiah Allen, who walked into the room with a bruise on his cheek and a flourish in his gestures. He nearly strutted as he took in the room, despite the new addition of the bruise. Violet lifted a brow just enough that Jack followed her gaze. They both glanced towards Emily Allen, who shot her brother a telling look before turning her back on him.
She wasn’t the only one, either. Several of the other invited students were the lads interested in the science of investigation, and they seemed—as a group—to dislike Mr. Allen. Why? Surely Mr. Allen wasn’t the first lad to brag about his connections in a place such as Oxford? On the whole, they were probably the most well-connected students in the world.
Violet watched the lads, pretending to listen to Jack and the men converse. One of the boys was a ginger lad with freckles and ears so red, they were purple. She expected smoke to come from the young man’s ears as he watched Mr. Allen speaking to another of the students.
What had Mr. Allen done to infuriate this ginger fellow so? Violet wanted nothing more than to go talk to the young man. She did have an absurd love of the inanities of the human race. She glanced at Jack, who had started discussing a case with one of the police officers who’d arrived. They were discussing evidence and suspects that Violet had no knowledge of, nor did she care to know more. She squeezed his arm and excused herself before he could stop her.
Violet crossed to the bar, got herself a G&T, and then deliberately wandered in a way that made it seem as though she’d stumbled across the lad. She knocked herself into him, spilling a little of her drink on him, so she could apologize profusely.
“Oh, I am sorry!”
He looked up at her with wide, distressed, dark brown eyes. She felt a flash of remorse that was even greater.
“I am sorry,” she repeated, this time far more fervently. “I really should have been watching where I was going. Do forgive me.”
“Of course,” he said. The distress in his gaze didn’t ease, and Violet noted that the direction of his gaze was fixed on one of the pictures of the young woman that had caught Violet’s attention previously.
“She is lovely, isn’t she?” Violet’s tone was careful.
“She was,” the young man said. “She was…” He trailed off, turning his gaze.
“Was?” Violet’s voice was low and tentative.
“Was.” His jaw clenched, and Violet could see the muscle in his jaw move. “She…died.”
“Oh, I am sorry,” Violet said. “I am so very sorry.” She set down her drink. “I do seem to be flubbing this up horribly, don’t I?” She held out her hand. “Violet Carlyle.”
The man blinked, startled by her forwardness. “Nathan Tanner.”
“Are you one of Mr. Morgan’s students?”
“I was,” he snapped. He cleared his throat, looking at her in a bit of horror. “I’m Professor Snag’s aide right now. I, well…I left Professor Morgan. I couldn’t face it.”
“Because of the young woman?”
“Rachael Morgan. Professor Morgan’s niece. She died at the start of the year.”
“I’m so sorry,” Violet said again. She had no doubt that this young man was grieving the loss of the girl. He must have loved her. Was it reciprocated? Or was he an admirer from a distance? Violet cared very much about knowing.
“Professor Snag wasn’t able to make the lecture,” Mr. Tanner said distractedly. “He asked me to attend in his stead to take notes. I suppose I am free to leave now.” He nodded at Violet in farewell. “Miss Carlyle.”
“Mr. Tanner,” she replied, watching his gaze fix on the picture again before he stumbled from the room. She noticed a bulge in his pocket and a small space on the mantel that had obviously not been empty earlier.
She wasn’t sure what was there before, but she’d lay down a good amount of money on it being a small picture of the late and lovely Rachael Morgan.
Violet returned to the bar to refresh her cocktail, leaving Jack to his group of friends, and made her way to a chair on the side of the room. She was curious to see the rest of the young men interact with the professors, and she wanted to see the way the young Mr. Allen interacted with them all.
Vi had no intention of succumbing to the blackmail of Miss Emily Allen. If Violet did, she would be an endless and easy target for the vile woman. Violet had little doubt that a woman who would blackmail once would do so again.
Mr. Allen’s gaze had followed Nathan Tanner as he left, as did several of the other university lads. What did they know? Their looks certainly seemed intent. Violet admitted she’d become entranced by the drama of these university lads. She’d like to discover more about their personal traumas and possibly add them to her next book.
Chapter 6
Violet grinned as Mr. Barnes sat down with her. “Well, my dear, I fear our evening has descended into one of your pulp novels. Former, betraying lovers appear out of nowhere. Fisticuffs before the party if young Mr. Allen’s face is to be believed. Swaggering and rather a lot of posturing.” Mr. Barnes smiled winningly at her. “May I jump to first names with you, my dear? I have felt quite encumbered making it clear that you were my friend when I referred to you as Lady Violet.”
Violet winked at him. “Alike, my dear friend, alike, alike.” She had noted the careful use of the word ‘betraying’ with a surge of gratitude. Jack was too honorable to tell tales on Miss Allen. She appreciated that Hamilton was not.
“Was the evening all you wished?”
“Posturing, Violet. These evenings are more about skipping about on our laurels than sharing knowledge. That’s what the journal articles are for.”
Violet laughed as Mr. Morgan took another seat near Hamilton and Violet. Before he could speak, the room cleared, giving them a clear view of an argument between the young men. Mr. Barnes and Violet stared as one of the two university lads shoved Mr. Allen. His sister was watching impassively from the sidelines.
Jack stepped in before the young man could respond, and a moment later, he was escorting all of them from the reception room.
“My goodness,” Mr. Morgan sputtered. “I will be having words with those lads. Apologies, Lady Violet, Ham.”
Hamilton laughed. “I enjoy the ridiculous, my friend. This seems to be bringing the evening to a swift close rather than a slow, stuttering end. You’d best see them out before they stampede. Miss Allen left with quite a scowl, did you see? I suspect she didn’t get what she wanted for her article.”
Mr. Morgan lifted one of those domineering eyebrows
and said, “Dealing with Emily calls for a drink.”
He rose, leaving the two of them to their shadowy corner, while the remaining guests seemed to decide as one to leave. When he returned, his butler followed with a tray of cocktails.
“My man made the drinks according to the directions your brother sent along with those quite welcome bottles of rum, Lady Violet. Come Ham, try this drink. It’s called an El Presidente. I’ve saved it for the four of us when we’re putting up our feet after the evening.”
Violet set aside her half-finished G&T and took up the fresh cocktail glass. She’d only been holding the G&T to prevent someone from handing her a new drink. The El Presidente did sound lovely, however. With grenadine, white rum, black vermouth and—most welcome of all—ice chips, she took a sip and sighed at the coolness of it. With the windows opened and the press of bodies gone, the room was finally starting to cool.
“That’s quite the thing, isn’t it,” Mr. Morgan said. “Where did your brother come up with the recipe?”
“He became quite good friends with a barman when we were in Cuba.”
“That’s right, Jack went to Cuba as well, didn’t he?”
Violet nodded. Her head tilted as she examined the two men. “Why were the students fighting like that?”
Mr. Morgan laughed heartily as he shrugged, which told Violet he both knew and had no intention of telling her.
Hamilton, on the other hand, said, “Young Allen is a bit of a know-it-all upstart who is actually clever. It’s quite irritating, I think, for all of us. He’s been writing to me for months now about his ideas. At first…” Hamilton smiled awkwardly.
Violet could imagine. At first it had been flattering, maybe even a mentoring moment. Violet knew the power of it. She had it with her sister, Isolde, as well as young Ginny, and even Anna Mathers. Both of those girls looked up to Violet. It made her feel as though she had to be all the more careful. She couldn’t mess up, because in making mistakes, she might lead the girls down the wrong path, ruining their lives with the simple miscalculations of her own.