by Beth Byers
She dropped into the bath while Beatrice offered dress options from the other room. “Choose whichever you like,” Violet called. “Perhaps something scandalous as a special present for Lady Eleanor.”
Violet lingered too long in the bath and then refused to rush through her makeup. Violet spun in front of the mirror. She’d been so focused on her thoughts that she hadn’t paid attention to the dress until she examined herself in the mirror.
With a shimmy, Vi straightened the dress. It was a mix between bronze and copper with black lining and fringe. The beading was shiny and reflected the light. Violet’s shoes were black with diamond buckles. Violet wrapped her favourite black pearls around her throat a few times. She added a diamond choker, diamond bangles, and diamond ear bobs. All the diamonds glittered along with dress, making Vi a shimmery beacon.
She winked at Beatrice through the mirror and then suggested, “Why don’t you stay here in my room? Until Lila’s maid can come join you.”
“I hate being afraid.” Beatrice glanced down at the carpet before lifting Rouge into her arms.
“You don’t have to be afraid.”
They both knew it wasn’t true. Violet had been afraid a lot of times, and those experiences occurred when she should have felt safe. “What can I do?”
“I want to take Jiu Jitsu lessons as well.” Beatrice pretty face was turned to the ground, her eyes fixed on the carpet. There had been a tremor in her voice, and Violet wished she’d have thought of it instead of making Beatrice ask.
“You should also choose other skills,” Violet told the girl. “As much as I love you, I imagine the day might come when you’d be happier in another career.”
“I love working for you.” There was a plea in the girl’s voice. It reminded Violet suddenly of the girl in the garden. Vi wasn’t, however, the man in the garden.
“I could use a secretary or an assistant. I don’t see why things should have to end with us, just…evolve.”
Beatrice blinked and pressed her hand to her chest. “Really?”
Vi grinned. “Really.”
There was a knock on Violet’s door, and Beatrice opened it while Violet adjusted her bangles and touched up her lipstick.
“You’re late,” Victor said, leaning against the doorjamb. “The dinner gong rang.”
“Yes, I thought I heard it,” she replied.
“Denny, Lila, and Jack are in the hallway. Denny won’t go down without you. He doesn’t want to miss anything you do. Jack is getting antsy with you not appearing. He seems to think you will do something scandalous.”
Violet grinned and crossed to him. She glanced down the hall.
“Are you trying to enrage dear Stepmother?” Victor demanded. “She’s already furious.”
It had been something of a personal revelation over the last few hours just exactly how angry Violet was. Her anger was nearly something she could touch. Violet tried to take in a deep breath and let the anger go, but it wasn’t enough to reset her mood.
“She invited Theodophilus Smythe-Hill and some man meeting a girl in the gardens to this ambush of suitors. She invited money-grubbing fortune hunters to replace Jack. I’m furious. This smile is only because I refuse to wrinkle my face with frowns.” Violet grinned merrily at the others.
“Uh-oh,” Denny said gleefully. “Vi is on the rampage. A berserker with a pretty face. Will those nails scratch your stepmother to ribbons, darling?”
Violet took a long breath in, linked her arm through Jack’s, and then put on that merry grin. “I suppose that Isolde, Tomas, and Gerald are in the family wing?”
“This isn’t the family wing?” Lila demanded. “I was wondering where they were.”
Victor shook his head, lifting Kate’s fingers to his mouth for a gentle kiss. “The main family wing is the one that overlooks the gardens. You’ve noticed our rooms look down on the drive. We did receive rooms with balconies which were, of course, excellent for our mischievous adventures. A ready rope made of sheets, a tip toe down the drive, bicycles hidden in the bushes, and escape is at hand.”
“But your rooms are here,” Lila said slowly, her gaze darting between the twins.
“We were naughty children.” Victor and Violet’s gaze met and matching wicked, knowing, expressions crossed their faces.
“We were indeed.” Violet trailed her finger over the hallway wall. “Those were the good days. I think we should channel them again. Did you see Geoffrey? Why is he the favoured child again? I feel certain that shouldn’t be accurate.”
Victor slowly grinned.
“I think we should start with the classics.”
“Frame the boy?”
Violet’s gaze glinted and her mouth twisted evilly. “We’ll be at dinner—”
Victor lifted a brow. “How can we short sheet her bed if we’re at dinner? Or put snakes in her bed?”
“Beatrice darling,” Violet called, waiting until the maid joined them in the hall. “Would you and Lila’s girl like to carry out some tasks for us during dinner? I’ll give you both quite hefty bonuses.”
“Why are we doing children’s tricks?” Jack cleared his throat, but his eyes were twinkling. “Surely we’re adults now.”
“Because we can,” Violet and Victor said in unison.
“Because it’ll make her crazy,” Violet added, since it was her fellow who asked.
“The little snake deserves it.”
“Surely, we’re better than this,” Kate suggested. “He is your little brother.”
“We could be,” Victor said with a shrug.
“I want to see how far she pushes things while we uncover the nature of these lads,” Violet told Jack, almost pleadingly.
“You want to delay telling her of our engagement?”
Violet nodded, searching his face. He wasn’t pleased, but he only nodded.
They told the girls what to do, but it seemed Beatrice had a rather large amount of experience with pranks.
“We’re going to talk about this later,” Jack said, running his finger over her cheek.
“Violet? Victor? The dinner gong has rung.” They turned towards their father and smiled as though they weren’t conspiring. He examined both of them and lifted a brow. “Did anyone feel that? Ghost must’ve just crossed my grave.”
Violet laughed and wound her hand through his arm. They had reached the parlor where everyone else had already gathered. Lady Eleanor made a comment, but Violet had already turned to the cocktail tray. Victor followed her to the bar cart and made them fresh drinks.
“There is a tray of drinks there,” Lady Eleanor said sourly. “We’ve been waiting long enough for you.”
“Apologies, sweet stepmother.” Victor’s grin didn’t appease her. Though, of course, he hadn’t stopped making drinks. She glanced at her guests and then waved her hand for him to proceed.
“This is deliciously awkward, isn’t it?” Denny asked. Lady Eleanor sniffed and shot him a dirty look.
“Lord Devonsly made that tray there, Violet.” Lady Eleanor nodded towards the tray and looked at Violet. “You should try one.” It was an order, but Violet didn’t move from her position next to Jack.
Standing next to each other, having coming to the house together, surely Lady Eleanor knew that they were engaged or about to be? At the least? Yet…her gaze was moving from money-grubber to money-grubber.
“Oh, no offense taken,” Lord Devonsly said, with a hound dog’s grin. “I’ve heard Victor is a genius at cocktails.”
“We’ve all heard that,” Lady Eleanor countered. “That article—” She choked off her fury and tried for a genial smile.
Violet grinned, lifting the drink that Victor had made. He’d made cocktails, but he’d given her ginger wine. It was a good choice if he wanted to calm her down.
“You talking of that article? Heard about that at the club.” Lord Devonsly shrugged. His eyes were cheery enough and his hound dog face flashed a self-deprecating grin. “I don’t read much. Not a fan. I
heard you are though, Lady Violet. You write books? That’s what they were saying.”
Violet grinned evilly as Lady Eleanor’s jaw dropped. “Victor and I both do. We write together. My favourite”—her wicked smirk deepened—“is Broken Surrender and the Scarlet Ghost. We based that one off of Isolde. She was nearly manipulated into marrying a fiend just like our poor, heroine ingénue.”
Lady Eleanor gasped, and Victor choked on his cocktail, staring at Violet as if he couldn’t quite believe she’d say that.
“Not a fan of that one myself,” Father said. “The poor girl’s father was an idiot.”
Violet winked at her father, who lifted his drink and saluted them.
“You read that trash?” Lady Eleanor demanded.
“Course I did. Other than the boys we lost, none of our children have done anything. Least these two wrote some books, had some adventures, tried their hand at anything.”
“Ah, yes,” Isolde said. “That was a fun one. Tell me, Lord Devonsly, what do you do when it’s raining if not read?”
“Oh, I don’t mind the rain,” he said sheepishly. “I’d rather be out in the rain than stuck indoors. I just put on the old Wellingtons, you know? Rain slicker. Have a big cuppa when I get back, all’s well that ends well and whatnot.”
“Did you quote Shakespeare?” Kate’s head tilted. Her surprised glance moved to Victor and back to the others. The Nelson brothers laughed, though the young one seemed to enjoy it a little more.
“Didn’t actually read it, you know?” Lord Devonsly chuckled. “I only remember the title. Those old boys at Oxford did just torment a fellow with expecting you to read things.”
“Oh, I like him,” Denny said to the room, then to Devonsly, “I like you. You’re my second choice.”
“Second choice?” Devonsly asked, glancing around. He blinked a little stupidly, and Violet shook her head.
Denny grinned at his wife.
Isolde cleared her throat, looking around a little frantically, and asked Lord Devonsly, “Don’t you get ill?” To Denny, she whispered, “Stop it!”
“Hearty like a horse,” Lord Devonsly replied.
Father stepped in, taking one of Victor’s cocktails and then introducing the guests to one another. In addition to Lord Devonsly, there was the man Violet had met, Leopold Nelson, and his younger brother, Melrose Nelson. The fourth potential suitor was Kyle Rosens, who had traveled with his father, and far more interestingly, his sister, Celia. Could she have been the girl in the garden?
It must be Celia, of course it must. There were no other young women who could have been the one in the gardens. Violet watched the girl, trying to guess which of the four suitors might have feelings for her, but she seemed equally oblivious to them all. She was a good actress, better even than Violet. Unlike Celia’s parent, Violet’s father was watching her like a hawk—probably knowing something had spurred Vi’s horse.
She considered getting well and truly zozzled just to infuriate her stepmother, but Violet didn’t like to drink angry. Her gaze darted around the parlor, taking in the many men and few women at the gathering. It was heavily skewed towards gentlemen, something that would normally make Lady Eleanor furious. Instead, she’d done it to herself this time.
Violet glanced at her stepmother. The woman was so determined that Violet marry according to her desires that she was breaking her own rules.
“There’s one more lad coming,” Father added, drawing Violet’s attention from her stepmother. “A Theodophilus Smythe-Hill. He was delayed but sent word he’d be arriving later this evening.”
“Excuse me,” Victor asked, “did you say Smythe-Hill?”
Victor, unlike Violet, kept his feelings on the subject in check. His voice was clear and even, his expression smooth.
“I did,” Father replied. “Do you know the man?”
“We’ve—interacted.” Victor’s neck cracked as he struggled to hide the protective rage. “Did you say he’s coming?”
Father nodded, and Victor’s eyes narrowed dangerously. The usual lazy spaniel he wore as a mask faded, his lion coming out, and Father seemed to be well aware. Violet’s head cocked as she examined Father. She’d always thought he was entirely out of touch with the twins, yet very little seemed to be slipping past him during this visit.
“Into a house with Kate, Violet, and Isolde,” Victor muttered so low only Violet, Jack, and Father heard him.
“Is there a problem?” Father asked Victor, using a tone as low.
“There is indeed,” Victor said. “Theodophilus will not be staying.”
Victor was not asking, and he so rarely even shared an opinion that an order in Father’s house was out and out shocking. Father blinked and glanced at Violet, who knew she had paled. No one had looked her way, and she’d been trying to gather her feelings in.
Father noted the change in Vi. “I see.”
He might actually see, Violet thought, utterly surprised.
“Dear,” Lady Eleanor said, stepping up to the small group, “let’s not infuriate Cook by allowing her meal to go cold. I think we’ve lingered long enough for these two and their tardy friends.”
Father grunted and took Lady Eleanor’s arm, leading them into dinner. Lady Eleanor directed their seating, and Violet found herself between Lord Devonsly and Leopold Nelson while Jack had been seated in between Celia Rosens and Isolde. The table was quite unbalanced, but Violet could see that Lady Eleanor was pretending it didn’t bother her.
Isolde had Tomas on her right. He had received a position of honour while Victor, Jack, Lila, and Denny were deliberately shuffled to the side. Jack was almost included, but Violet had no doubt his position was intended to keep ‘Violet’s suitors’ away from Isolde and the triumph of her very rich conquest.
Denny seemed to prefer being shuffled. His eyes glinted with glee as he watched the players interact. He leaned back, sipping his wine, and Violet was sure his thoughts were something like, ‘What perfect entertainment.’
Violet met her stepmother’s gaze, glanced between her two table partners, and lifted a brow. Lady Eleanor smirked, and Violet’s face hardened into sheer, cold fury. The look she got in reply was the sort of expression a parent might give an unmindful child. Violet let amusement fill her face and lifted her glass to her stepmother.
How Victorian could the woman be? Violet would no more allow herself or her fortune to be picked up by these fortune hunters than she would allow herself to be trapped into an engagement as Isolde had been.
“Do you really write books?” Lord Devonsly asked.
Violet turned to him. They had already discussed this once. “Is that so hard to believe?”
“Ah, a little?” He seemed uncertain of how to reply.
Leopold Nelson laughed low and mean next to Violet, but she didn’t turn. Lord Devonsly might look like a hound dog, but he was a kind-hearted dunce. Violet wasn’t sure she’d be able to use the word kind in association with the elder Nelson son after that laugh.
“You’ll have to forgive Devonsly,” Leopold Nelson said. “He seems to think his title will sell you on him.”
Devonsly shifted next to Violet, and she noted the brilliant blush. Her gaze darted to Jack, who was leaning back watching avidly. She returned her gaze to Leopold. He wasn’t handsome, but he wasn’t ugly either. He had a sort of in-between unremarkable face until you noted his eyes, which were rather cold.
“And what do you have to offer?”
“Violet,” Lady Eleanor hissed. “You must be exhausted after your drive to ask such a question.”
“Oh,” Violet asked lightly, “are we supposed to be play-acting at romance? Someone forgot to tell me that this wasn’t just an auction.”
Leopold laughed. “I, at least, have wit. Rather like you.”
“Violet! Mr. Nelson! That will be enough.”
Violet lifted her wine glass once more, saluting her stepmother and sipping the wine. Victor must have said something to the servant who had poured Vio
let her favourite calming drink. Vi closed her eyes, breathing in the scent and flashing back to Aunt Agatha. Many an evening had been spent with the two of them sharing ginger wine and talking. On one of those occasions, Aunt Agatha told her, “Violet darling, you’re the captain of your fate. Women have to fight harder, but sheer stubbornness will win the day for you, my love.”
The memory of the woman who had actually raised Violet when Lady Eleanor hadn’t wanted to try provided her with the surety that there was only one way this would turn out, and it would be as she wished. The rest was only drama for Denny to enjoy.
Violet didn’t pay much attention to dinner, since her stomach, knotted with anger, made food rather unappealing. With Victor’s commanding glances and Jack’s worried ones, Violet ended up sipping a few spoonfuls of the soup and tearing off a few bites of bread, and then sipped her wine slowly, letting the soothing beverage comfort her.
Chapter Seven
“Violet darling, give me your arm out of the dining room. We haven’t gotten to say hello yet.”
Violet slowly rose and joined her stepmother at the end of the table.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Lady Eleanor hissed. “These are well-connected young men, and you are showing yourself to be entirely unappealing.”
“I’m sure you’ve given them the family rumors of my inheritance to entice them here, Lady Eleanor. My looks, wit, and personality are rather of unaccountable value next to the carrot you are dangling before them.”
“You will contain yourself and put on your manners or…”
Violet stopped, meeting her stepmother’s gaze, and asked coolly, “What will you do?”
“Do you think your father will approve of your behavior?”
“I seriously doubt it,” Violet told Lady Eleanor. “He appreciates the shield of manners.”
“Therefore, you will—”
“He doesn’t, however,” Violet said, cutting off Lady Eleanor, “have anything to use as a control on me. My allowance, should he choose to revoke it, is certainly no longer needed.”
“Would you say the same for Victor?”
Violet paused. “Are you saying that you will punish my brother if I don’t choose from among your fortune-hunting—”