by Beth Byers
“I see that smirk, Vi.”
Violet pasted an innocent expression on her face, but he knew her too well.
“Just wait.”
The dire warning had no effect. For what? A baby? She wasn’t quite ready to delve into motherhood, but when the day arrived, she’d be stealing Poppy or Jane or finding their equivalent.
“Oh,” Rita said, and Vi saw Lord Bidlake watching them. “I had better…I did promise…please, excuse me.”
Rita avoided Ham’s gaze, and then crossed to Bidlake who held out an arm and put on a smile even though he had to be perturbed by her abandoning him earlier. Vi noted the lack of roses and guessed he hadn’t been able to keep his temper any more than Vernon Atkinson, the medium brown, medium height lover who’d shown a not so medium temper.
Chapter 6
“Well, wasn’t that awkward and uncomfortable?” Victor’s voice was gleeful, reminding Vi of the fact that Denny and Victor had long since been the best of friends. Victor slapped Ham on the back, and demanded, “Where is Martha? I do need some good entertainment.”
“You missed it already,” Ham told Victor. “How about a pint instead?”
Victor followed Ham into the tent serving what smelled like very bad beer.
“We’ve been abandoned,” Violet said to Jack.
“I guess that means we’ll have to entertain ourselves.”
“Dancing?”
“Indubitably,” he told her, not hiding his grin, and he elbowed his way towards the ‘dance floor’ with the band on a raised platform to one side. The singer was better than Vi would have imagined. The fellow was older than what was common, but the songs were good and so was the band. They spun through the dances, catching sight of Martha in Ian Fyfe’s arms and Denny spinning with Lila. Later, they found Victor dancing with one of the acrobats, and Ham stealing a dance with Rita while Bidlake glared daggers.
“Do you really think that Rita didn’t intend to come back with all these lovers?” Jack’s muse made Violet grin.
“I think at least one of them was purposeful or at least, sort of welcomed with a bit of revenge.”
Jack winced. Rita had returned to dancing with Bidlake and she was smiling happily enough, but Ham seemed unconcerned as he and Victor smoked on the sidelines of the dancing area. Neither of the men were looking towards Rita twirling in Bidlake’s arms, and there wasn’t a deliberateness to it either. Instead, it seemed that Victor was telling a tale, and Ham was amused enough to attend to Victor’s story.
The night seemed to prance on, and Violet watched a tumbling act of clowns as she held onto Jack’s shoulder so she could see past the giants in front of them. They danced again and found Martha and Samuel, holding hands and speaking quietly.
“Oh dear,” Violet muttered.
“Don’t lose faith in Martha,” Jack told Vi. “Look at her eyes.”
Violet looked again and noticed the way Martha’s gaze was following a particularly handsome man, and then how she peered up at Samuel and murmured something low to him. He patted her hands and leaned in, and Martha shifted to the side.
How things had turned, Vi thought. From pursuer to pursued and reveling in it.
“I both despise and adore her,” Violet told Jack. “But I do really want her to move on from us. How do we rid ourselves of her and still keep Lila and Denny?”
“Marrying her off would be just the thing,” Jack answered, “but dislike her as I do, I can’t stomach seeing her with that fellow. He had her completely changed, and she wasn’t even happy. I believe people can change, Vi, but I do think those changes need to be internally driven.”
“It was all an act,” Violet told him. “Martha was probably telling herself to bag the man and then convince him to stay in England, and then convince him to take a job with someone or other, and then to take her dancing. I don’t believe for a second that she intended to follow him back to some distant island and do good works.”
Jack and Violet spun back into the dancing, and a few minutes later, Ian Fyfe requested to break in.
“Surely you must be joking.” Violet had little desire to dance with the man, and her reply had him flushing. Violet guessed that flush wasn’t embarrassment but anger.
His reply, however, was pleading. “Rita will never let me talk to her until I apologize to you, and I did behave very badly.”
Violet tilted her head as she examined him. She didn’t want to make amends with him, and she didn’t want to dance with him, but she did want him to go away. He didn’t know Rita well enough to know that he wouldn’t be able to just tell her that he told Violet he was sorry therefore Rita should pretend as though it had never happened.
Violet would like to believe that few modern women were so foolish as to believe that nonsense, but she knew that more than a few had. Rita, however, was not one of them. If anything, a half-hearted apology that would no doubt be chased by an earnest apology from Ham? The dichotomy just might be of endless value.
“I’ll find you in a moment,” Violet told Jack.
He nodded, pressed a kiss to her forehead, and then told Fyfe, “Don’t make me regret letting you near her, Fyfe.” The implicit threat made Vi grin and Fyfe nod.
“Of course, of course.” He held out his hand to Vi who slowly put hers into his. After several silent moments of dancing, where Violet was waiting for him to put words to the implied apology he promised, he scowled at her. “You’re going to make me say it, aren’t you?”
“Oh yes,” Vi agreed brightly. “I’m looking forward to it.”
He frowned fiercely.
“Just a hint,” Vi’s merry voice rang out. “That’s not the way to go about it.”
Ian Fyfe took in a deep breath, held it, and then said, “You have my deepest regrets for the way I treated you, Lady Wakefield.”
“Just Vi,” Violet said, grinning at him. “Very pretty. Not so heartfelt, but you hit all the right notes.”
“Not heartfelt?” His gaze narrowed on hers and his voice was a bit of a growl when he said, “You ruined everything for me.”
“I?” Violet lifted a brow and grinned once again at him. Her mocking glance had him grinding his teeth.
“You set me up.”
“I did,” Violet agreed. “You took the bait so very well.”
Ian Fyfe’s fingers dug into her back as he fought his temper.
“If you bruise me,” Violet told him merrily, “Jack will contrive for you to be shanghaied. He’s neither forgiving nor finished—like my twin—with just tossing you on the street. You were, you know, quite lucky that it was the tired version of Victor you met.”
“Yes, well,” Ian muttered, “I suppose that pushing past the maid was in poor taste.”
“Oh my, yes,” Violet agreed. “That was stupid.”
“How do I get her to forgive me?” He was trying for supplicating, and given his expression, he actually thought she’d help him out.
“I suggest leaving her be.”
The furious expression came back onto his face. “Why is your stupid detective so much better than me?”
“Well, for one,” Violet answered plainly, “he’d never have fallen for my trick. For two, he’s not stupid. For three, he actually loves her. For four, he’s not a total condescending, rude, manipulative, bastard. For five—”
Vi had every intention of continuing until he stormed off the dance grounds, but she’d really been counting on him lasting for longer than a mere four reasons. She followed after to see him shove Oscar Watts and his partner aside and then push past to where Samuel Richards was whispering with Martha.
“That Wakefield shrew is horrible,” Fyfe told Martha and Samuel. “She should have been drowned at birth as the devil’s progeny. Her husband should beat her daily to change her behavior.”
Samuel Richards’s gaze was laughing, but what he said was, “Now Brother Ian, that’s no way to speak of one of God’s daughters.”
Martha snorted and met Vi’s gaze. “She is a
shrew. I have never cared for her myself, but I’ll say this for her, I heard what happened—”
Ian Fyfe groaned and muttered, “She set that scenario up!”
“Of course she did, and you fell for it.”
“That was hardly fair,” he said.
“Chasing someone for their money isn’t fair either,” Martha told him flatly. “No one made you say what you did to her. She made you upset, and you revealed your true colors.”
“Just like you in that…that whore’s dress!” Fyfe told her, looking Martha over as though she were a piece of roadside trash.
To Violet’s delight, Martha winked at him. “But I’ll be going home to a nice house this evening, and tomorrow when I have breakfast, I’ll be having it with the woman you say you love. Certainly the woman whose money you love. I wonder what she’ll think of this tale.”
To Violet’s shock, Ian Fyfe slapped Martha hard. She cried out, and Brother Samuel sighed as Fyfe stomped off. “If any man among you seem to be religious, and bridleth not his tongue, but deceiveth his own heart, this man's religion is vain.”
Violet shoved Samuel aside and took Martha into her arms. “Shut your mouth.”
“She did not make her repentance even one hour.” He looked sad as Martha held her cheek, staring at her one-time betrothed.
“Judge not that ye be not judged,” Violet snapped. “You are a blight upon humanity and if you have a truly contrite bone or believing heart, I’d be very much surprised!”
“He didn’t even defend me,” Martha told Violet. She sounded more infuriated than sad, so Violet just said, “There, there.”
Samuel Richards looked between the two women and said gently, “I’ll go get your men. I fear that you won’t accept my protection when you’re so hysterical.”
“What protection?” Violet muttered to his back, staring daggers. She should very much like to box his ears.
Martha didn’t even look after him. “But he didn’t even defend me, Vi. Not at all. He…he…quoted scripture at me.”
Violet tried again. “There, there.”
“Stop saying that!” Martha hissed. “By Jove, woman! What a disappointment Samuel Richards has turned out to be.”
Violet took Martha by the arm and headed towards Jack. As usual, he towered above most of the gents there. His back was towards them, which was good, she thought. She’d hate to see him brought up on charges for beating Ian Fyfe or Samuel Richards.
As they approached Jack and Ham, Martha had started prettily weeping. Violet paused a few steps away from their friends and demanded, “Did you…are you play acting?”
“I was struck!”
“A few minutes ago,” Violet told her. “Look at your tears! They’re slow dribbles. It’s very pretty. Do you practice in front of the mirror?”
Martha’s gaze narrowed on Vi, but she wailed, “How can you be so cruel?”
Her wail got the attention she wanted, but Victor saw her and immediately stepped behind Lila. Denny looked her over and sighed. “What happened?”
“Ian Fyfe slapped her,” Violet announced loudly, to ensure that Rita and Bidlake heard it.
Rita gasped, turning from Bidlake’s attention to Vi and Martha. “Why?”
“She was teasing him,” Violet told Rita, checking Bidlake’s reaction.
“He’s hot-tempered,” Bidlake told Rita. “Miss Lancaster should have been more careful with her words.”
Vi grinned at his reply and winked at Ham before turning to Jack. He examined her. “Did you get slapped too?”
“Not this time,” Violet told her husband, grinning at him, “but I suspect that I would not be safe in another round. I don’t think he likes us.”
“I don’t like Martha,” Denny agreed. “Not in the least bit.”
Martha sniffed and stomped her foot, letting out another pretty tear. “You are supposed to be my friends.”
Denny’s head tilted at Lila. “Maybe you can explain.”
“You have to be nice to other people for them to like you, Martha. This is why you don’t have friends from your school days either.”
Martha let out another tear and Violet was almost gentle when she asked, “Martha, who are you crying for?”
The girl looked between them, eyes shining, as she saw Victor carefully not looking at her, and Jack and Ham, who were both passive in their neutrality.
“I have a question,” Bidlake asked. “Why do you treat your friends this way? I thought you were singling me out until I saw you teasing Miss Lancaster.”
Violet snorted and Rita glanced to the side. Denny slowly answered as though Bidlake was a dullard. “Martha isn’t our friend. She’s our annoying little sister. Once she stops being annoying, we’ll start being much nicer. You’ll notice that our meanness also rid her of the fiend Samuel Richards. That man is a conman if ever I saw one. We aren’t treating you like a friend either, because you aren’t our friend.”
“And when Rita accepts my proposal?”
They were all silent as they stared at him. He was, Violet thought, in earnest arrogance. The poor lad. “I wouldn’t put all my eggs in that basket, laddie,” she told him gently.
“Do you think I’m as easy to get rid of as that fool, Richards?”
Violet looked around the circle of their friends. Even Rita was hiding a smile. Rita's lack of reaction to the assumed engagement was all Violet needed.
To Bidlake, Violet simply said, “Well, yes.”
Chapter 7
Martha’s mean laugh filled the air, and Ham asked Rita, “I wonder if I might have the next dance.”
She looked him over and then put her hand in his. Bidlake gaped as Ham swung Rita into their first dance since she’d left England.
“But I’m a lord.”
Violet snorted and told Jack, “Is the beer here as terrible as I suspect?”
He nodded.
“That hotel has a bar that’s open late, though, doesn’t it? Perhaps we could get some cocktails and then wander the beach at night.”
“Yes, please,” Lila said. “I did drink some of the beer, and I can’t get the taste of it out of my mouth. The flavor has lingered so long, I feel certain that I shall die with it still in my mouth.”
They found their way to The Cliff House. It was at least four floors of hotel rooms and restaurants with a bar that was open late. Violet ordered something with oranges and berries. It was odd, fruity, and had a sprig of mint that somehow tied it all together. She sipped her first slowly and took her second down the steps to the shore.
They danced in the waves with their friends, and she wasn’t able to hide her delight at seeing Ham swing Rita into a dance as if they both knew they were meant to be. Violet assumed they hadn’t had the conversation that was necessary yet, but they were getting closer. She left them to their romance and let Jack pull her into hers.
When they climbed back up the steps from the shore, they found that the bar was just closing, but Victor persuaded the barman to make them one more round of drinks. The next was sweet with the aftertaste of honey and made Violet miss her sister. She’d had something similar when she’d had her engagement party to that fiend Danvers. Isolde had escaped that mistake, found Tomas, and might have even had her baby by now. Tomas had whisked her away from Lady Eleanor, and the letters were sparse enough that Violet had little doubt he was sending them from post offices that weren’t in the town they were actually staying in. From Isolde’s last letter to Vi, they intended to return once the baby had been born and Isolde had recovered.
Poor Lady Eleanor, Vi thought, and then set aside her cocktail. If she was having sympathy for her stepmother, she’d had too much to drink. Lady Eleanor adored her children to an obsessive extent, but she’d also driven the wedge between herself and Violet over years of repeated actions.
Violet laid her head against Jack’s shoulder as they sat in one of the booths near the window. The sight of the ocean reflecting the moon made Violet sure that she’d never seen anythin
g more beautiful. Perhaps things just as beautiful, but nothing more beautiful.
Violet tangled her fingers with Jack and he wrapped his arm around her shoulders. The cool air came in from the windows, and she both enjoyed the fresh scent of the ocean air and was chilled by it without the comfort of his arm.
“I am so glad that we made it through,” Violet told Jack. “We could have messed up our lives so easily by letting the little things ruin us before we could realize what was most important.”
Jack’s answer was a kiss pressed against the top of her head and then another on each of her fingers. Ham and Rita were whispering together, but Violet didn’t think they were having the conversation. Not the full one. Not with an audience and not at a bar where they’d have to vacate before the conversation could come to its own conclusion.
Vi followed her gaze to Victor who looked as though he’d escaped the weight of the world. He had needed to escape his babies, Vi thought. It was funny how she knew he loved them more than anything except maybe Kate, and yet, he also needed nothing more than to not be breathing the air where they were. If they were fussing, they would be fine, but he wouldn’t be able to relax if he heard them crying.
“Do you think we’ll be as bad as Kate and Victor?”
“With your imagination? And my experiences? Vi, darling, we’ll be so much worse.”
Vi winced and then looked back out the window. To her surprise she saw Samuel Richards, Oscar Watts, and Parkington Bidlake conferring at the top of the steps. What were they conspiring over, Vi wondered. Were they making a schedule to throw their favors at Rita’s feet? Were they bargaining who had the best chance to scale her defenses? Were they working out a plan to separate her from her friends?
Surely it had to do with Rita, given that they weren’t friends outside of that? Perhaps they’d decided to walk their aggression off and ran into each other? If so, Vi hoped they’d continue onto a pub and leave them be at the bar.