by Beth Byers
Violet sighed. “What did you promise him?” She didn’t need to know he referred to Tomas. There was really only Tomas when it came to people that Victor might be persuaded against what Violet might want—and even then—only if Victor was sure that Violet wouldn’t truly object.
“A weekend. His house. Old times. But…” Victor tried an engaging grin. “Sweet one. Dear sister. Womb mate.”
Violet smacked his arm and demanded, “Yes?”
“I thought perhaps a party would be in order. Tomas agreed.”
Violet’s brows rose. She did enjoy a good party, but in the middle of the countryside with no warning? She hardly thought the servants would thank them or that there would be friends enough for it to be notable.
“Tina! You must stop!”
The low husky, familiar laugh had Violet pulling Victor to a stop and pressing a finger over her lips. She winked lightly. The staircase that led to the deck was just ahead. Just behind it was the captain’s dining hall.
On the other side of that staircase, out of the view of the twins but not out of hearing, was Bettina Marino and whoever she was…assaulting.
“What if I don’t want to?” Bettina purred.
There were the sounds of a bit of a scuffle and a low, female chuckle.
Violet glanced up at Victor. That hadn’t been Tomas. He knew, of course, that the woman who was throwing herself at him wasn’t just throwing herself at him.
Violet thought back to that moment when they boarded the ship and made an internal bet that he did care, but only because his pride was bothered.
“Do you think I want you now?” the man demanded. “Do you think I don’t know you don’t love me? You care only about….about….money!”
There was a low chuckle and a man’s gasp and then Bettina said, “Darling, you know it’s not like that. You know that security is important for both of us.”
“Don’t,” the man growled.
“Can’t I love you and find security too?”
“What? No! No! Of course not. He’s my friend. Do you think I would betray him like that?”
Bettina murmured something too low to hear and there was the sound of a low laugh. A moment later a door beyond the staircase opened and the sounds of passengers gathering for dinner prompted Violet and Victor to step forward.
They entered the captain’s dining room. Both twins looked a bit too eagerly around to see who might have been in the hall with Bettina, but whoever it had been, he’d already been absorbed by those attending. Bettina stood with her hand on Tomas’s arm. He looked down at her in a sort of angry bafflement while the twins’ cousin, Algernon, was accepting a cocktail from one of the crew. The blonde man from earlier who’d had Bettina shoved at him was standing near the door with a cocktail.
The captain stepped to the fore of the gathered diners and introduced himself. “I understand that many of you know each other.”
Violet noted the dancers she had seen at Tomas’s party and a couple she did not recognize who were talking with a ship’s officer. Beyond them, there was also a single gentleman who was eyeing the ladies in the group as though picking out a horse.
Violet cleared her throat and allowed Victor to get a cocktail for them both.
“I believe we are waiting for one more,” the captain said.
“Ah…” Algie replied. “Well…ah…Mr. Smythe-Hill sends his regrets.”
Victor snorted under his breath and Tomas looked at Violet, searching for the answer she refused to give him. Violet hated the rush of horror she felt knowing Theodophilus was on the ship and the rush of relief that he wouldn’t be at dinner.
The undercurrents in the room were salacious indeed, and Violet perked up as she looked around for a pending dustup. There was rather a lot more to be excited about. She was on her way back to England. If Jack hadn’t found someone else, she could discover if she was well and truly in love. She’d be able to sleep in her own bed, not look after Isolde, take care of the worries about the girls—Anna and Ginny, as well as the coming baby who needed a home.
Violet had spent the afternoon journaling and making a list of things she needed to resolve as quickly as possible. She’d even written a telegram for her man of business, Mr. Fredericks, to set aside time for her next week. She did want to mosey back to London, but the things that needed to be done were pressing.
Too much responsibility, really, for a bright young thing. However, Vi thought, she had spent the last few months lying on boats in canals, eating chocolates, and shopping with her sister, with a few shorter trips to Luxembourg, Amsterdam, and Cologne.
Violet had ordered her brother a case of black current liqueur after a visit to Cologne, along with kirsch, German beer, and some honey wine from Luxembourg. She’d also sent Giles out specifically to gather as many cocktail recipes as he could while they were out. She had written them up in a little book for Victor and had been working on the collection of recipes almost since his last birthday. Would he really buy her black pearls? A strand of the kind that was fashionable at the moment would be expensive indeed, but she had to admit, she wanted one desperately now that he’d mentioned it.
“Whatever did you leave Bruges for London for?” Bettina asked querulously of the twins, as the diners came together. “Don’t you wish to travel?”
“We’ve been away from home since last Christmas,” Victor said. “Except for a short trip back to London.”
“That was when your sister murdered her fiancé, no? You got your paramour to pin it on the son, yes?” Bettina had a mean turn to her mouth as she smirked over at Violet and Victor.
The captain cleared his throat. “Ahh, perhaps—”
“No,” Tomas argued furiously. “Isolde murdered no one. You know this. Everyone knows this. She was a victim of some…some…madman who thought he could take what he wanted from her. He murdered his own father to do it. And Vi does not have a paramour.”
Violet was near rage when she deliberately ground out, “Lovely weather, isn’t it?”
One of the ship’s officers stared at her. “You must enjoy the rain.”
“The scent and smell of rain is the way I know I’m home. There isn’t much difference in weather, however, between Bruges and London. Don’t you think it was why we were so comfortable there, Victor?”
“Indeed,” he said and asked about a recent horse race that he’d read about.
Chapter 5
The ship docked while Violet was sleeping, but she rose early to the gentle tap-tap of her maid, Beatrice, at the door.
“Hello, luv,” Violet greeted as she shoved back her eye mask and put on her kimono. Beatrice had brought Turkish coffee, toast, and fruit, and Violet moaned in delight.
“I thought you’d like that,” Beatrice said. “The ship’s doctor is a fan and insists on having it available for himself. When I found that they had it in the kitchens, Giles and I persuaded the cook to share.”
“You are a cherub,” Violet said merrily, breathing in the deep scent of her coffee. “Did you use your fine eyes and a bright smile, or did Giles bribe them?”
Beatrice grinned and admitted, “A little of both, my lady. Miss Violet, Mr. Giles says we’ll be staying in Kent for a few days. Did you want me to transfer any of your luggage?”
“I fear we’ll be a bit of a mess until we’re back home. Just do your best, and I promise not to throw any hairbrushes at you.”
Beatrice laughed and opened Violet’s trunks to pull out a dress for the day. “Did you want the blue?”
“With this rain, I think it must be the grey.”
She sipped her coffee while Beatrice worked, wondering how the coming days would turn out. She knew the proposal was coming her way. She would have to try, once again, to persuade him to look beyond her. Another explanation of why she wasn’t going to marry him. How? How to make him believe that she loved him only as a brother?
Violet could imagine it so clearly. Maybe she should just tell him. Something along the lines of
, ‘I am even more certain now, Tomas. Now that I’ve met Jack. He might not love me, but I love him.’
If she said that, would he accept it or would he just keep on asking? Hoping? Looking at her with those desperate eyes?
Would he point out that she didn’t even know if Jack loved her? If Tomas understood that, would it be enough that Jack occupied Violet’s thoughts? That when Violet danced in Jack’s arms, she felt more alive than at any other time? That she preferred his company—even to Victor’s? Victor, who Violet needed like she needed to breathe?
“It will be nice to be back in London, my lady. With Mrs. Lila and Miss Gwennie and your own house. Are you looking forward to it?”
“Oh, yes,” Violet said, smiling serenely and sipping the deep, dark coffee. It wasn’t Lila and Gwennie that she was both terrified and excited to see again.
“My lady…”
Violet glanced up at the tentative voice. “Yes?”
“It’s…” Beatrice glanced around, avoiding Violet’s gaze and then added, “Mr. Theo is…”
“He’s with Algernon,” Violet said carefully.
Beatrice glanced at Violet. “I believe they’ve been traveling together with Mr. St. Marks, and I’m concerned Mr. Theo will be at the next house. I can sleep in your room. Whatever you need.”
Violet smiled and rose, cupping Beatrice’s cheek and dropping a kiss onto her forehead. “You really are a cherub, and there is no way that Victor will allow Theodophilus Smythe-Hill in the same house as me.”
“His man is almost as smarmy as he is, my lady.” Beatrice shuddered.
“You be careful, my love,” Violet said, “and remember, we are on your side. Not his.”
Violet rose. They’d be disembarking soon. She put on the reasonable grey wool dress. At least it had a drop waist. Violet added sensible shoes with a bit of a sigh.
She slowly did her makeup, lining her eyes, as she nibbled toast and listened to Beatrice chatter about going home. Beatrice, it seemed, had something of an infatuation for the footman three doors down and wondered if he was yet available or if some other girl had snapped him up.
It was a trouble that Violet could understand all too well. She carefully applied a bright red lip to counteract the grey reasonableness of her dress and then helped Beatrice to gather up all the little things. Violet knew that Beatrice was careful, but Victor spent even more time lingering over his dress than Violet, so Vi might as well help. They’d be waiting for a while to disembark.
Violet sipped a second cup of coffee, putting her journal and a pen in her bag, along with her newest pulp magazine and the latest Tarzan novel. She hoped that Victor had taken an auto for them, so they wouldn’t be dependent upon Tomas for every escape from his house. He’d happily share a vehicle with them, he’d just also accompany them. Not an issue if they were picking up typing paper or ribbons or some of that goop that Victor put in his hair, but more of a problem if they wanted to pry into Jack’s childhood.
Violet arranged her traveling writing desk and another thought occurred to her. The memory of the last time they’d returned home and being teased. She tapped her fingers against her palm for a moment and then wrote out a quick note for Hargreaves. She would have Beatrice post it as soon as possible. The twins’ birthday was coming quickly, and Victor spoiled her dreadfully. She wanted to win this year.
Victor tapped at her door as Violet put on her cloche and Beatrice took the last of Violet’s things out of the cabin. She took one glance around and then wound her arm around Victor’s.
“Will we have our own auto?” Violet asked.
He grinned down at her. “Feeling the grasping hands of love already, darling?”
“You know I care for Tomas,” she struggled to say amid the conflicting emotions. She shrugged, helpless to elaborate.
Victor squeezed her hand. “I know. If we cared less about him, we could cut ties.”
“But we do care about him.”
“Eventually your Jack will persuade you or drag you to the altar, and Tomas will give up on the idea of you. Then, he’ll look wider and realize how poorly you two would fit.”
Violet sniffed and then Victor pulled her back to stop her. The other set of siblings, the French dancers, were arguing ahead, and they paused to give them space. Neither of the duo seemed to realize they had an audience as the sister looked up at her brother, placing a hand on his lapel and leaning into his space. Whatever she whispered was frantic and her brother scoffed and shoved her, pushing ahead and leaving her alone in the hall.
Victor tugged Violet into movement as the French woman looked up, saw them, and pretended to smile before rushing back into her cabin.
“Shall we go slowly to the house, love?”
Violet considered it. “Are they all going to Tomas’s house?”
“All but Theo.” Victor growled a little in the back of his throat before he said, “Shall I kill him for you? Or sell him to a trader in the East? Press him into servitude? Send him to the mines?”
Violet laughed though neither of them were amused, and they stepped out into the drizzle. Beatrice was ready with an umbrella and they hurried down the gangplank and to the car. By the time they reached it, Violet had stepped into three puddles and been soaked up to her knees, despite the umbrella, sensible shoes, and her coat. Violet suggested, “Perhaps instead, we shall go to our rooms at Tomas’s house and dry out?”
“Good choice, darling one,” Victor said.
Tomas’s home was one of those big brick rectangles with rolling lawns and even a tower folly in the large expanse of the verdant grass. The butler was ready at the door as they walked up the steps, and the look on his face was harried and revealed his thoughts: could he have had more time than a telegram a day or two before they all arrived?
“Mr. Hull,” Violet said, happily. “How is your mother? Is she feeling better? I’m so sorry to cast our wet selves on your good nature.”
The poor fellow grinned at them with a strained sort of happiness and sent them up to their rooms after taking their wet coats. By the time Violet had removed her shoes, soaked stockings, and her hat, a housemaid had been in to light a fire, and Beatrice had appeared with a trunk and dry clothes. Violet disregarded all of the dresses for pajamas, thick wool socks, and her favourite kimono.
The housekeeper appeared soon after with tea and a greeting, and Violet kissed the woman’s cheeks. “Beatrice, darling, give Mrs. Newstone one of the boxes of chocolates we brought back.”
“Oh, thank you, my lady!”
Violet winked at the housekeeper who took the box gratefully and left a moment later.
Violet sighed into the tea and slowly stretched her legs out towards the fire to warm her feet. She had gotten too cold on the walk from the ship to the auto.
“Mr. Victor sent you this, my lady,” Beatrice said, handing Violet a stack of paper that had been tied with a piece of twine. It was the last pass of their next book. She would read over his changes and then they’d start the next one. Violet already had some ideas. They might be centered around a clingy Italian fortune hunter. She found the more books she wrote the more her current thoughts found their way to the page. Even if it was just an excess of chocolates and scenes on canals like the story in her hands, or the Italian woman that just may die in the next book.
“Dear,” Violet said to Beatrice, who was sorting Violet’s dresses and hanging them in the armoire. “Would you be so good as to have the typewriter brought into my room?”
She decided to write in her journal for a few minutes on her bed, snuggled under the blankets. Her words were mostly a jumble, repeating herself as she tried way after way in the pages to explain her state of mind to Tomas without hurting him. She’d paced too much of the previous night trying to figure out how to end things with him in a way that he would accept.
She’d journaled about all of her worries—especially Jack—as she tried to discover her thoughts through her writing, but she’d still come up without a response
. It wasn’t like she hadn’t said ‘no’ before—she had. Each and every time. It wasn’t like she hadn’t said she didn’t love Tomas the way that he wanted before. If anything, being around Tomas after being around Jack had shown her that her instincts were right. Tomas lived in the same part of her heart as Gerald and Isolde. Whereas Jack had made his own place, right in the center.
By Jove, she thought in awe, she had fallen in love with him. How had this happened? And what had happened to being young and modern? To taking control of her life? Would marrying him take that from her?
Her soul cried out immediately an answer she didn’t expect—no. Not with Jack. Maybe with someone like Algie or Tomas who expected to be the center of their spouse’s life—but not Jack. He knew her too well. Far too well for that.
Chapter 6
Violet had changed from her kimono after her nap since she expected someone would show up at her room sooner or later, and she’d have to join the others for luncheon. It was well-thought too, since Beatrice answered a knock on Violet’s bedroom door just as Violet was settling into her ingénue’s newest story. Violet felt that a heroine this dim needed to be scared a little more before setting her free to her happy ending. Isla was the right heroine for the time she’d been created, back when Violet was bemoaning Isolde’s idiocy and lack of will. But now that Isolde had been rescued and Violet didn’t see her sister as quite so stupid, it seemed like a good time to create someone new.
Violet looked up from her typewriter to see Tomas standing in her doorway. She hadn’t seen him that morning when they’d left the ship or when they’d arrived to his house. This was the first time he’d had her alone since Bettina scuppered his proposal. He looked down, staring at his feet before he asked, “Would you walk with me?”
She could see that his ghosts were hovering again, and she wished she could shoo them away. Her heart leapt into her throat as she examined his face. He had that intent look about him. Gone was the boy she’d known—her second brother—back was the man who wanted something from her she couldn’t give. It was a combination of stubborn and nervous.