by Beth Byers
“We should go,” Violet said, nudging Jack’s attention to the gents outside.
“That’s an odd trio,” Jack murmured. “Makes you wonder what they’re up to.”
Violet shook her head. It was an odd trio, Jack was right. They were full grown men who’d run into each other at a carnival. Surely that was all it was? They were probably going to drink off their woes. No, Violet thought with a smirk, Oscar and Bidlake had been determined to drink their woes, and Samuel Richards had somehow caught them up.
She told Jack her theory, and his shout of laughter pulled everyone’s attention. He pointed to the group and told them what he thought.
“He probably is ruining things for them,” Martha said, not sounding heartbroken in the least. Her voice was cool and snakelike as her gaze narrowed on him. “Trying to pander for sponsors for his stupid missions. What’s so wrong with leaving a couple of gents free to live their lives? Besides, if Bidlake is really a lord I’ll eat my hat. And, if Oscar Watts isn’t just another friendless third son, I’d be very much surprised. I bet you he was some sort of school boy’s ape leader who got let go on their journey for making eyes at the ladies. You have to watch out for the quiet ones, you know. Those spectacles, they proclaim him a man who’s pretending to be more serious than he is.”
“You don’t think they proclaim him a man who has bad vision?”
“I think that they heard Rita was rich and thought it would be easy enough to pursue her. Far more so than when on land where someone else could sneak her away from them. She was trapped on the ship and hadn’t even bothered with an escort this time.”
“And you were useless,” Denny told Martha.
“I am younger than Rita, and less experienced. It isn’t my fault that she got surrounded.”
Lila’s head tilted and then she asked slowly, “You were the one who let the rumor out. It wasn’t someone hearing Rita’s name and thinking oh I wonder if that’s Roderick Russell’s daughter. Their name isn’t that uncommon.”
Martha blushed furiously and shook her head, but she’d revealed herself.
“What did you do?” Denny grabbed the back of his neck before stretching it out as though the burden of Martha had already given him knots in his back. “Try to impress someone and set the rumor mill afire? Then you abandoned Rita to all the wolves who showed up to salivate?”
Martha’s pretty, slow tear was all the answer they got.
“Well?” Violet demanded as she and Rita left the house with Ham’s two puppies, Violet’s two small spaniels, and Victor’s one spaniel.
“Well,” Rita repeated, clucking down at Watson. “They are precious, aren’t they?”
“Yes,” Vi agreed, and because she was unequivocally on Ham’s side, she added, “I did say that I bought them to distract him from you.”
“Oh.” Rita grinned at Vi. “That is a good one.”
“Isn’t it?” Vi winked and then clucked at Mary who was nearly worthless on a leash. “It’s true though. Did Ham apologize?”
“He told me he was a fool beyond belief, and he’d rather have cut out his tongue than say the things he had said, let alone cause in me the pain that he’d been feeling.”
Violet juggled the puppy to clutch her heart. “Oh! That was a good one.”
Rita rubbed her head over the top of little Watson’s head, accepted a kiss, and then nodded. What she said was, however, “I am pretty sure he practiced it.”
“That just means he meant it enough for it to be important.”
Rita rolled her eyes. “I am also certain that Parkington Bidlake practiced his honeyed lines yesterday.”
Vi groaned. “When it’s Bidlake, it’s sneaky. When it’s Ham, it’s lovely.”
“Why?” Rita demanded.
She met Rita’s blue gaze. Her eyes were tortured, Vi saw, and Violet felt instantly repentant. She put down Mary, took Watson, and then hugged Rita tightly. “I am sorry.”
“Why are you apologizing?”
“I keep pushing Ham at you, and I do love Ham, but Rita—this is about what will make you happy.”
Rita’s lip quivered. “It would be so easy to get on the next steamship.”
Violet had to clench her teeth tight and fiddle with the leashes to keep back her protest.
“My father would be sad, and I wouldn’t be happier there than here. I feel like Ham stole my joy in adventuring, and I’m not sure I can give him enough rope to take away the next bit of my joy. I know it’s weak Vi, but I don’t know if I can do this with Ham again.”
“Then don’t,” Violet told Rita. “Just don’t settle for one of those bastards either.”
Rita’s watery laugh sounded amused enough that Vi breathed a little easier. “I don’t know. Oscar is pretty sweet. He was around before the rumors of my money were loosed.”
“Of course he was. You’re beautiful, clever, kind. You’re a catch with or without being your father’s only child.”
“I am, aren’t I?” Rita laughed and then picked up both Mary and Watson. “I’ve always wanted a dog.”
Violet did not tell her that Ham would share.
“That is a level of self-control I wasn’t sure I could expect.”
Vi laughed as she admitted, “I might have bit down so hard in my mouth, it’s bleeding a bit.”
“Oh baby,” Rita said, not sounding sympathetic at all. “Shall we walk down to the pier and then come back?”
Violet followed, huffing a little given that Rita was far stronger. About halfway back, they were both carrying dogs under each arm. The puppies had given up first, followed by Rouge, then Holmes. Victor’s Gin was still keeping up, but his tongue was lolling and his breathing was rough.
“We should rest,” Violet declared as they passed a café serving tea, scones, and coffee. She dropped into one of the chairs at the outside table and begged water for the dogs along with Turkish coffee, scones, jam, and clotted cream. It was only after she ordered that she asked Rita, “Do you have money?”
Rita stared at Vi long enough that she felt certain she was going to need to chase the girl down and cancel her order, before Rita winked and nodded.
“Minx.”
“Shrew.”
“Cow.”
“Wench.”
“Hey now,” a deeper voice said, and they turned to the grinning face of Oscar Watts, “that’s no way for young ladies to speak to each other.”
Chapter 8
Only the ironic twist to Oscar Watt’s mouth kept Violet from immediately disliking him. “Hello there. I wonder if I might join you.”
Violet nodded before Rita could make excuses. Vi told herself to be nice and lifted Rouge into her lap to give her something to do so she wasn’t casting daggered glances at the…the…rogue in front of her.
“You must be Violet,” Oscar said with a grin. “Rita described you as angled beauty.”
“I do have sharp elbows,” Violet agreed.
His shout of laughter made her like him just a little. She had to admit that she liked hearing that he’d listened to Rita well enough to guess her friend’s name. They had, of course, been introduced, but Rita would have described Violet in just a way.
“Now Kate is the one who studies the odd subjects like Greek?”
Violet paused and then nodded. “That’s our Kate.”
“And you and your twin write the V.V. Twinnings novels? Rita told me you based your ingenue, Isla, off of your sister’s stupidity.”
Violet felt herself being appeased and wondered if she could like this fellow. She didn’t want to say yes, but she suspected that she could, in fact, like him rather a lot. “I did.”
“That’s a cruel blow.”
“She deserved it.”
“What did she do to you in return?”
Violet’s head tilted. “She knew she deserved it.”
“So she just took your censure?”
“My censure is very tongue-in-cheek. When it comes to my siblings, it includes well-aimed i
nsults, endless help, and occasional lectures for the good of mankind. You should see my little brother. He’s almost human. I’d give him a decade or two, and he’ll be tolerable for longer than a few weeks.”
Oscar’s brows rose from behind his spectacles. He pulled them off and cleaned the lenses with his handkerchief, but Violet’s sarcastic smirk was ready when his spectacles were back on his face. “I wonder if she adores you.”
“Most do,” Violet told him, pressing her lips together to hide her smile.
“Of course they do,” he said amiably. “If Rita does, who would not?”
Violet would have replied but the Turkish coffee arrived, and she needed a moment to breathe it in.
“How did you lose all of your fellows?” Oscar asked.
“We snuck out. Like thieves in the night.”
Oscar looked to Rita. “I feel sure she’s bamming me.”
“She is,” Rita told him. Violet didn’t crow that he seemed so uncertain. The very uncertainty was such a letdown after seeing the sureness of Ham. Vi might not be pushing Rita towards Ham actively anymore, but she was still cheering for him. “We said we’re taking the dogs for a walk and then we left.”
“Ah,” Oscar grinned engagingly. “They probably recognized that you wanted to have a good chitchat and then I intruded.”
“You did. Very rudely finagled your way into our gossip.”
Oscar smiled sweetly enough, but he blushed at his ears, which unfortunately jutted out just a bit from his spectacle frames.
“Tell me about yourself,” Violet ordered as she spread her scone with clotted cream. There was, she told herself, no reason to feel sympathy. He’d need to be able to handle Rita’s friends if he was going to…to…finagle his way into their lives.
He accepted the tea Rita poured him. “Well, I graduated from Oxford and had just enough money for a bit of a travel and I thought, why not? I’ve been gone for years now, really. I took jobs here and there. Did what I could to extend things and always kept enough for a trip home. My father called me back finally and like the obedient son, I have returned.”
Violet wasn’t sure she quite believed what he said, but she nodded.
“It sounds like the prodigal son, doesn’t it?” Rita asked.
Violet nodded instantly. “I think our Oscar is keeping secrets.”
“Surely we all have them?” Oscar asked. “This Violet looks like a woman who has buckets and buckets of secrets.”
Violet lifted a brow at the idea and didn’t object. An objection begged the idea that she was protesting too much. And really, Violet didn’t want to know what stories he was imagining up for her; she wanted to know if the stories she was imagining up for him were near the mark.
“What kinds of work did you do?”
“Secretarial work mostly,” Oscar said. “A bit of translating. I have a gift for languages which has been quite fortunate. I sold a few articles to English and American papers. Worked for an odd American for quite a while until he married a local woman and whisked her home. That was near Mongolia of all places. Whatever I could do, I did.”
If Violet had removed Ham from the Rita equation, she would have imagined up just such a man for Rita. Someone who worked, who was from England and understood her, but someone who wanted to see and know more of the world than their fair isle.
“What is your favorite city?”
“It’s an odd answer,” Oscar said, “but I quite liked New York City.”
“Why?” Violet demanded. She hadn’t been yet but she was curious.
“It was just a mixture. You could see so many things and experience so much of the world in such a small place.”
“London is diverse,” Violet suggested to see what he’d say.
“It is, but it’s home. It feels like a city is supposed to feel. New York City is different. That’s all. It still feels foreign, but I can eat pasta with Italians and the next night see a parade near Chinatown. Central Park is lovely. I just liked it. In the end, I just liked it.”
“Just liking it is a good answer,” Violet told him simply. “It is perhaps the perfect answer. Now why do you like Rita?”
“Who else has seen and loved the world as she has?” It was an earnest answer. He grinned Rita, and then turned back at Vi. “She’s been on a safari. Ridden elephants. Lived with a monkey. She’s eaten the things that would make a traditional English girl blush and gag and she’s seen the places I’ve seen. It’s nice to talk to someone who has visited both Montreal and Sri Lanka. When you add in that she’s clever and kind? What’s not to like?”
“She’s shady,” Violet told Oscar. “You can’t trust her not to break into your hotel room and dig through your things.”
“I have nothing to hide,” he said, and Violet wasn’t quite sure she believed it.
Instead, Violet considered him. “What is your favorite book?”
“That’s not a V.V. Twinnings book?”
Violet groaned and saw Rita was hiding a grin. “I am not so easily pandered to.”
“Well, one can try.”
“You should expect more from Rita’s friends.”
“I might have made you sound like a pack of zozzled idiots.” Rita’s evil grin was well-timed and she winked at Violet’s lifted brow.
“That’s probably a somewhat fair assessment,” Violet admitted. “At least for our most remarkable stories. It’s not like you’re going to tell about that one time we all stayed in, read novels, and went to bed early after a midmorning nap.”
“That does sound pretty nice,” Oscar told Violet as though Rita had told that tale. It had happened more than once, and really should happen while they were at the seashore. There was something about naps with the ocean waves in the distance.
“We really should adventure again,” Violet admitted, “after we nap again. Though I’d prefer not to be sucked into another scheme such as that last one. What shall we do? Choose a way to torture Jack?”
“Shh,” Rita hissed and then grinned engagingly at Oscar.
It was, of course, ineffective. Oscar’s gaze shot between the two of them and Violet noted his surprise. Rita, it seemed, hadn’t explained all her adventures to him. It warmed Violet’s heart to realize that Oscar did not know Rita’s depths. Had she told him about her mother? Or her aunt? That the aunt had murdered both her mother and stepmother was not something that you led with in friendship, but it was something you shared in love.
Violet looked a question to Rita who shook her head. With great struggle, Violet resisted a cheer. Instead she said, “I believe the dogs have rested sufficiently.”
Oscar escorted them on the way back to the house, so Violet let him carry Gin and Holmes while she carried Rouge. The dogs were, without question, spoilt. They almost needed to get a pram if they were going to go on longer walks. Or, Violet amended, they needed to just bring another gent along who wasn’t Oscar Watts to carry the dogs.
When they reached the house, they left Oscar at the sidewalk without the least bit of concern.
“Riding this morning?” Rita asked.
“Jack told the servants to go over and reserve us horses for this morning.”
Violet waited just outside the door with Rita, who finally said, “Don’t say it.”
Violet said it. “If you can’t tell him about your mother and your aunt, he’s not the man for you.”
Rita’s withering glare was enough for Violet to hold up her hands.
“I’m sorry.”
“You are not. You’re pointing out his flaws, and it’s not like I want to tell anyone that my aunt murdered my mother and stepmother. No one wants to tell that story or even to know that it is their past. I like to pretend that I’m not the idiot who loved and traveled with the very woman who stole my mother from me.”
Violet shot Rita a quelling look. It wasn’t as if Violet didn’t understand. Her cousin—whom she had been raised with as a near sister—had murdered their great-aunt. Given that Aunt Agatha had stood in
the place of Violet’s own dead mother, Vi understood. It was a burden that was suffocating at times. The truth hit you, and the days turned grey. The things that people would do to those they loved for money or another love. It was enough to send one to their beds for life. But, Violet reminded herself, she focused on the good. She focused on the kind, and she focused on love.
“I would have said that to you regardless of Ham. To my dismay, I like Oscar.”
Rita examined Violet’s face carefully and begrudgingly, and Violet repeated, “I like Oscar.”
“I do too.”
They stared at each other. A silent argument, so they didn’t ruin their reunion. Violet was thinking very loudly that Oscar might be all right, but he still wasn’t the right man for Rita if she couldn’t trust him with what happened in her family. Rita was silently telling Violet that just because she hadn’t yet said it didn’t mean she never could.
“It’s early days yet,” Violet admitted.
“I’m all of a jumble inside. There’s a part of me that feels like I’ve promised Ham my heart and my hand because I’ve come back after your letter and his—”
A throat cleared and they both gasped and turned back to the sidewalk where Ham and Jack stood at the bottom of the steps. They had clearly heard at least the last of what Rita had said.
Both Violet and Rita stared at Ham, and Violet was cursing like a sailor inside of her head because he’d overheard Rita’s confession. Given Rita’s deep blush, her friend was doing the same.
“How about,” Ham offered, “I tell you here that I don’t expect that from you. All I ask is a fresh chance.” Before Rita could answer, Ham carefully added, “Whatever your answer now, later, or never, I consider you one of my dearest friends, and I want that to continue regardless of the rest.”
“Can you do that?” Rita’s question was a doubtful wail.
Ham hesitated and then he said, “Rather than lose you entirely? I could do anything.”
Violet opened the front door and brought the dogs inside. Jack closed the door behind them, leaving Rita and Ham outside. “Well.”
“Well,” she repeated. She winked at him and then stuck her ear to the door.