A Talent for Sin

by Lavinia Kent

  Peter wrapped an arm around Violet, drawing her close. Worry seeped from her like a palpable thing. She reached out for her sister’s hand, unmindful of the blood. “You still haven’t said what I am supposed to have told you.”

  Isabella jerked away violently. There was a slight tear along her sleeve, the lace hung loose.

  Violet stared at it in fascination. Peter could feel the questions she longed to ask but she held silent, waiting.

  “I am not stupid, you know.” Isabella’s feet began to tap a nervous tattoo on the floor. “Although…maybe I am. It never even occurred to me.”

  “What never occurred to you?” Violet’s voice was soft, comforting.

  “That you and Lord Peter were attached, and that you would risk all that for me. I never really thought you cared.”

  “Of course I care. How could you even think such a thing?” Violet watched as her sister began to worry the fabric of her skirt again. She longed to ask Isabella what had happened, but Isabella was clearly lost in some world of her own.

  “You rarely visited and almost never wrote.” Isabella became still for a moment as she stared at her sister.

  Words escaped Violet. It was true that she had always been a poor correspondent, and she had not visited frequently because she disliked feeling herself under her brother’s thumb, even for a short time. She should have tried harder. “I have always loved you. You are my sister. I would have done anything for you.”

  “I know that now.” Isabella looked at her strangely.

  “I always thought I was on my own. I thought when you didn’t want to help me find a husband it was because you were too busy. Only Lady Smythe-Burke ever wanted to talk to me, and I always feared that she simply wanted somebody to talk to. I think anybody would have done. It didn’t matter that it was me.”

  Violet stroked Isabella’s hair. There was a long rip at the neckline of Isabella’s gown. She hadn’t noticed it before.

  Peter drew a breath in. He’d seen it too.

  “I wasn’t busy.” What had happened here, and why was Isabella talking about everything but the body that lay in the corner of the room? Still, the important thing was to keep Isabella talking. Violet continued, “I just didn’t understand the situation with Masters, and then, once I did—”

  “And then, once you did, you did everything you could to help. I wish you had just talked to me about it. I never thought you would offer yourself instead. I could have said no to them. I simply thought it would be easier to find a different husband, one that I wanted. I had no idea what you would do.”

  Violet’s hand fell still in her sister’s hair. “You would have said no to Masters?”

  “Yes. I know you seem to think I am a ninny, but I am very capable of standing up for myself. I don’t know why everybody seems to think I can’t take care of myself. I’ve done very well for years.”

  Violet remembered Peter’s words. He had said that she misjudged her sister. “I only wanted to take care of you.”

  “And a great mess you made of it.” Isabella’s foot began its rhythm again.

  “How did you—”

  “I followed Lord Peter when he left this afternoon. He sounded so mysterious about his errand. If he was to be my husband, I deserved to know his secrets.”

  Staring at her sister, Violet was slowly filled with comprehension. “You followed him.”

  “Right through the back gate of your garden. I heard everything.”

  “Oh.” What else was there to say? Violet tried to remember exactly what had been said when.

  “I came right here, to Foxworthy’s house. I needed to know if it was all true, that you had really done that for me. And I needed to know about Masters. Could he really have done something like that?” Isabella began to shake, deep tremors that ate at Violet’s soul.

  “I didn’t do anything.” Violet spoke softly.

  “But you tried. I never dreamed anybody would do something like that for me.” She pushed away Violet’s hand and stood. She turned to face the body. “You did leave Foxworthy very angry. I didn’t know half the words he used. He did intend to ruin us.”

  “Did?”

  Isabella reached into her ripped bodice and dropped several sheets of paper on the table. A bloody thumbprint marked the corner of one. “Did. I had to stop him. When he said those things about you, I just—”

  Violet was reached for the papers just as a loud voice sounded from the hall. “Foxworthy. Where are you, you old fool?”

  They all froze at the sound. Peter put a finger to his lips and moved softly to the door. “Open the window to the terrace. Go out that way,” he whispered.

  Violet grabbed the papers, rammed them into her reticule, and reached for her sister’s hand to pull her away. Isabella resisted, walking back to Foxworthy’s desk and scooping up a large handful of papers and a couple of thin notebooks from a drawer. Violet gestured for her frantically. Stuffing as many papers as she could down her bodice and into her sleeves, Isabella finally followed, as Violet slid the lock and with a heave pushed it open. It was an easy matter to slip out. Isabella followed.

  It took a moment to realize that Peter had not followed. He still stood at the door to the hall, his ear pressed to the crack. Violet started to climb back in.

  “I must go.” Isabella’s voice sounded strong in her ear. “I can’t be caught here.”

  “No, wait. We must get Peter.”

  “I must go now. I can’t be caught here,” Isabella repeated. Her voice was firm and heavy with conviction. Whatever spell had held her was broken.

  “But if we leave they’ll think—” Violet reached for Isabella’s arm again.

  “They won’t think anything, because they won’t know we were ever here.” Isabella stepped out of Violet’s reach. The trembling girl was gone completely, replaced by a cold-eyed woman. “And what would they think if they knew that I killed him? Well, whatever they thought, they’d be right, because I did. Foxworthy is dead because of me.”

  “Don’t say that. I know that whatever happened was not your fault. It was an accident.” Violet reached again for her sister. “Just let me get Peter. I promise we’ll take care of everything.”

  “But I don’t want you to take care of anything. No matter what you say you cannot change the facts. I was found alone in a house with a dead man. It would serve nobody if I told the full story of what really happened. Please trust me. It is time for me to live my own life. Everyone will be better off if I leave.”

  “Just stay for a moment. Give me a chance to—”

  There was a loud slam. Somebody had just shut Foxworthy’s front door, none too gently. There was more noise from inside the house. Why wasn’t Peter leaving? They needed to be gone.

  Violet turned toward her sister, ready to beg her to stay. Isabella turned her back and walked toward the road.

  “Don’t go. I can help if you’ll just tell me what happened,” Violet called after her sister.

  “It’s better this way. You don’t want to know.” Isabella stepped in the street, waving frantically at a hack.

  “I am sorry. I would have acted differently if I’d known you truly cared.”

  There was the clatter of another carriage pulling up in front of the house. She had to get Peter to leave. If she didn’t he would be caught. Violet glanced once more toward her sister. She knew instinctively that the moment she went back through the window Isabella would be gone.

  She climbed over the sill.

  Chapter 19

  “Why didn’t you just come? I don’t understand why you took so long.” Violet leaned back on the settee. They were home and safe. She’d managed to pry Peter from the door just in time. By the time they’d made it make out the window the door had been opening. She hadn’t waited to see who entered.

  “I recognized the voice. I know I’ve heard it before. I just wanted to know who was there—see if there might be another explanation.”

  “You mean besides my sister killi
ng a man.” There, she’d said it.

  “You don’t actually think that she—” Peter sat beside her, pulling her legs onto his lap.

  “She said she did. I can’t imagine her doing so, but I’ve never known her to lie. It must have been an accident. Oh, I don’t know. Why did she leave if she didn’t?” Her voice was trembling and she had no power to control it. She turned her face into Peter’s chest, seeking safety. “If you could have heard how cold she sounded when she said that she’d killed him. Why would she say something like that if it wasn’t true?”

  “I am sure there are a million reasons. Maybe she even thought she did. Or maybe she lost her senses when she found the body, and isn’t even sure what happened herself.”

  “We just need to find her and ask. She can’t have gone far.” Peter sounded confident, but she knew that he pretended this firmness for her benefit.

  “I’ve messed up this whole affair from the beginning.”

  Peter sighed, but did not disagree. “I think we all have. And that includes Isabella—if she was willing to say no to Masters she should never have involved you.”

  “Still, if I hadn’t—”

  “Didn’t you say Isabella wanted to live her own life?” Peter ran a finger over the top of her foot.

  “Yes, but my sister may have killed a man because I—”

  “Stop right there. You don’t know what happened. I don’t know what happened. I do know that the man who came seeking Foxworthy sounded angry enough to kill. We don’t know that he hadn’t been there earlier.”

  Violet considered for a moment. “If he’d killed him why would he be looking for him?”

  Peter continued, determined. “Maybe he wanted to cover his tracks. Or maybe he wasn’t sure if he was dead. There must be a dozen reasons.”

  “I don’t know.” Violet knew her voice was filled with doubt.

  “That is the point. We don’t know. And until we do let us not make any assumptions. Our priority needs to be finding your sister, not wallowing in guilt.”

  Violet relaxed her back into the cushions. He was right. There was no point in beating herself over what had happened. That was the past. They could only move forward.

  Peter removed her slipper and began to massage her foot. It felt so good. Maybe that was the problem. It seemed so unfair that she had Peter and poor Isabella—

  “Ahem,” the stiff, ladylike sound echoed through the room.

  Violet jerked away from Peter, swinging her feet to the ground, as Lady Smythe-Burke strolled into the room and turned to stare at Peter. “So you were after the older one after all. I told you I’d approve of that match. Very suiting. I may take credit for it anyway. I always did take you for a man of sense, and a man of sense would know that my dear Violet is far more the woman you need to keep you on your toes. A man must be kept on his toes at all times.” She addressed this last part to Violet.

  Violet wasn’t sure what to say. Lady Smythe-Burke had never visited her home before. They did have a past relationship, but it was based on convenience and favors, not actual friendship, and the last thing she needed now was an hour of polite chatter. “How may I help you, Lady Smythe-Burke?” That was always a polite way to begin a conversation.

  Lady Smythe-Burke turned toward her. “It’s not how you may help me, but how I can help you.”

  “Help us?” Peter asked as he stood and tried to assist Lady Smythe-Burke to a chair.

  The lady avoided him and continued to stand. “Then you have not heard?”

  “Are you talking of my sister’s disappearance?” This time it was Violet who spoke.

  “Oh, that, not at all what I meant, but we will get to that in a moment. I was speaking of the attack on Foxworthy. He was murdered this afternoon.” She peered back and forth between Violet and Peter. “I wanted to be sure your servants will say you were home all afternoon? Good. It would be so awkward if they didn’t, given your history.”

  “Foxworthy murdered?” Violet felt compelled to repeat the phrase as the knots formed again deep in her belly.

  “Yes, he was found in his library, a knife stuck in his chest and his throat slit. All quite mysterious—nobody would know a thing about it if the parlor maid hadn’t gone screaming down the street when she found him. Yes, quite mysterious.” She turned a penetrating eye on Peter.

  “He was found by a maid? His throat slit? A knife in his chest?” Peter asked. Violet could see the question in his eyes—there hadn’t been a knife when they’d been there. Isabella certainly hadn’t stabbed the man. Something must have happened after they left. But what?

  “And why do you think this concerns us?” Violet calmed the quiver that threatened her voice.

  “Well, you were seen acting out of character with the man only last evening, and you, Lord Peter, have never been known to have the calmest of tempers.” Lady Smythe-Burke stared pointedly at Peter’s bruised knuckles. “Even forgetting the magistrate, I daresay there will be rumor and gossip.”

  “Will we be suspected?” Peter asked, his voice tight.

  “You, I am sure not. Violet, well, from what I hear, it was quite a performance you gave last night. Still, I fancy you can manage any question that comes your way. Can’t you, my dear?” She turned back to Violet.

  “I imagine I can.”

  “And besides, I can’t imagine that either of you would have reason to rob the man,” Lady Smythe-Burke continued, “although it was more his papers than his valuables that the thief was after. I gather only a scattering of petty coins were missing. His desk had been rifled through, however. It’s rumored he had a collection of vowels from half the young pups in the land in his top drawer and maybe even secrets of a more damaging nature.”

  “I am still not quite sure why you came here.” Violet fought the urge to say more. Why had Isabella grabbed those papers? And had she taken any coin? Violet didn’t think so.

  “Ah, did I mention that the maid reported that a young woman with red hair had been in to visit Foxworthy—of course she was reported to be quite a few years younger than you, my dear Violet. Quite mysterious. I might almost have thought of your sister if—”

  “If what?” Violet interrupted. The knot in her stomach had turned into a hopeless snarl that twisted further with every word spoken.

  “Why, if she hadn’t been with me. Quite the girl, your sister. I do have hopes for her someday.”

  “When did you see her? She was with you this afternoon?”

  “Didn’t I just say that? She came by and spent the whole afternoon,” Lady Smythe-Burke said, staring pointedly at Violet. “You modern women never listen. When I was a girl if you didn’t listen you got your ears boxed good and hard. My sister once looked like she’d grown cauliflowers out of the side of her head when she kept thinking about boys instead of listening to my father. I never did like cauliflower. Is it a vegetable or is it a flower? And if it’s a flower, then why are we eating it? Maybe we should make wedding bouquets out of them. That pale creamy white with just a hint of pastel ribbon.”

  “Forgive me, Lady Smythe-Burke, but could you tell us when you saw Isabella about?”

  “Oh dear, was I wandering?” Lady Smythe-Burke smiled slowly, but her eyes were deadly serious. “It’s a wonder I can keep track of anything. I might even confuse the time of a visit if I am not careful and think it was even earlier than it was. Dear Isabella showed up at my home quite distraught. Apparently she’d followed Lord Peter out of her house. She wanted to see what was so urgent he couldn’t stay and kiss his fiancée a few more times—she hoped to get a peek at her betrothal ring. Very sensible on her part, I must say. Girls today don’t always have the gumption to do what must be done. In any case I can imagine you know right where you led her, Lord Peter. Couldn’t you have used the front door instead of the mews? Isabella’s hems were quite the sight after she’d been traipsing through muck for a good while and she must have scratched herself on a rosebush—her skin was quite marked. She’d even bloodied her skirt
.”

  “Did my sister mention where she might be headed?” Violet asked. It was clear that Lady Smythe-Burke knew far more than she would say.

  “Oh, she’s gone off to take a position.” Lady Smythe-Burke stared straight into Violet’s eyes as she spoke. “Isn’t that the most wonderful idea? I wrote her a brilliant reference. I am sure she’ll be hired in no time. Unfortunately, of course, all the positions I know of are far from London.”

  “A position?” Violet didn’t know what else to say.

  Lady Smythe-Burke glared at her. “Isabella is a properly brought-up lady who has run into difficulties and possible scandal through little fault of her own.” The lady paused and gave each of them a stern look.

  “She wishes to have her own life, and I decided she should have it. She’ll make a wonderful companion or governess or whatever she chooses to do. Whatever.”

  Violet glanced at Peter at that final whatever. Her stomach was churning, but words seemed to escape her. All she could do was grasp his hand.

  “Do you know where she was heading?” Peter asked. “We would like to know where she is going, be sure that she is safe.”

  “Oh, that would have taken away her adventure. I gave her a list and some currency, and told where to catch the stage. She is a sensible girl and she will be fine.”

  “Surely you could give us some idea where she went?” Violet swallowed as she forced the words out. This whole situation was impossible. It was not long ago that life had seemed so normal.

  “Let’s see. I gave her the direction of a friend with five children in Newcastle, of an older woman who needs some help in Caernarvon, of a finishing school in Launceston, and of a good friend who always needs help with something in Maidstone. I am sure she’ll be at one of those locations.”

  “I am surprised you didn’t send her to Norwich and complete her tour of the kingdom,” Peter stated.

  “I did consider it, but the Winglehams live in Norwich and I really didn’t think she’d suit. Hmmm, I’d forgotten Clara Westington. You’re friends with her, aren’t you? I always did like that girl. She’s in Norwich. I should have sent Isabella there but I didn’t think of it. Oh well, it’s such a pity that I can’t remember exactly which direction she took. I’ll never be able to tell anyone where she went.”