Of Sin & Sanctuary: A Revelry’s Tempest Novel

by K. J. Jackson

  No response.

  Brutal terror seized him.

  Her panicked begging was far better than this—the disappearance of her voice, her eyes, her mind.

  Fighting the need to hold her—for he needed to get her out of there far more than comfort her—Theo tore his hands from her face.

  He stood, turning to the mine opening before all strength to leave her left him.

  There was no doubt that he was utterly destroying her by leaving her in the mine.

  He ran to the rope, starting upward and using the footholds offered by the few bolts still in the wall from the destroyed ladder. Pulling himself up and out of the mine, he gave his left arm no possibility to fail. Not when he needed to get back down to Violet.

  He yanked himself up over the edge of the shaft and then stood and looked down into the mine.

  Not a sound was heard.

  He afforded himself a quick moment to pray that he had not just broken Violet.

  Broken her by leaving her.

  Again.

  { Chapter 21 }

  “I can’t fix her, Sprite. I need your help.”

  His sister hurried down the last three steps of the winding staircase in Dellon Castle, her newborn babe clutched to her chest. She rushed across the stone floor of the foyer, skidding to a stop in front of Theo as the heavy front door was closed behind him.

  “Theo—they just told me you arrived—an emergency?” Adalia’s eyes ran up and down his body. “What in heaven’s name—”

  “She is in the carriage—Violet is. I didn’t want to shock you. Had to prepare you.” He stopped, rubbing both of his eyes with the butt of his palms.

  “Violet? Cass’s last letter said you two were together—in love—but that it ended abruptly. Had I been in the position to come to London I—”

  “We are together, Ada, that is not up for debate, nor is your scolding necessary. I am here for your help with her—help she needs—I need.”

  His sister looked to the side and spotted her butler quietly stepping away. She sprang to him, thrusting her bundled babe into his arms and ignoring his look of mortification at having to take the babe. “Take him upstairs to Miss Lawson, Jenson.”

  Holding the babe securely, but slightly away from his crisp black jacket, the butler did as bade, awkwardly navigating the steps upward while holding the babe clear of his clothing.

  She turned back to Theo just as he pointed at her butler. “Are you sure he isn’t about to drop my newest nephew?”

  Adalia flicked her hand in the air. “It is just a show. Jenson loves holding the babes when no one is watching. He is only making a production of it because you are here and it is so far beneath him.” She grabbed his upper arm. “Theo, now what are you saying? What are you doing here? You look beaten to Hades. And when was the last time you slept—your words are slurring.”

  “Stop. Let me talk, Sprite,” he growled. “It’s not about me. It’s Violet. She’s broken and I cannot fix her.”

  “Violet? Broken?” Her hand tightened on his arm, fear striking her eyes. “What has happened?”

  “She was in a mine. Captive for days.”

  “What?” The shrill word echoed in the cavernous four-story foyer.

  “I will tell you every detail. But Violet is more important right now. It broke her. Being in the mine. It broke her.” He paused, shaking his head, his voice cracking. “I broke her.”

  “What? How could you do that to her?”

  “There was a shackle around her ankle, and after I found her I had to leave to get tools to free her. Ropes to lift her out of there. And it broke her when I left—I broke her, Sprite. I broke her.”

  “Wait.” She tugged on his arm. “What do you mean, how is she broken?”

  “She has been numb since we got her out of the mine. She is going through the motions—she will take baths. Eat. Always silent. And between those things all she does is sit and stare into nothingness for hours at a time. She does not speak. And she jumps every time I am near her. She jumps and scampers away from me if there might be the slightest brush of my hand. I tried. But I cannot reach her. Cannot help her.”

  “How long has she been like this?”

  “Nine days.”

  “Why did you not come earlier?”

  “I was waiting until word that your babe was born.”

  Her face crinkling in fear, Adalia pushed him to the side and went to the door, heaving it open and running out to the carriage. Without waiting for the footman, she jerked wide the carriage door and stepped up and into the coach, closing the door behind her.

  Theo stepped out through the front door of the castle, standing on the top step, staring at the coach. The curtain on the carriage window drawn, all Theo could do was stare at the mud splattered up onto the sleek lines of the carriage, hoping against all hope that he had made the right decision to bring Violet here to his sister.

  The days after pulling her from the mine had sent a spike through his heart. Her vacant stare. Her inability to answer even the simplest question—to even talk. And she had been getting progressively worse. Sleeping longer. Sitting in his drawing room for less and less time. Eating less and less.

  A shell, nothing more.

  He didn’t need her perfect—even the smallest indication that she was still in there, could still recognize a world around her, he would gladly take.

  But there was nothing.

  As much as he didn’t want to admit it, he realized everything he was doing to try and bring her back, to engage her, he was failing at. Failing at all of it. Failing miserably.

  The coach shifted on its springs and the carriage door opened.

  His sister stepped down from the carriage and he looked past her into the dark depths of the coach. He couldn’t see Violet. Not even her legs.

  She had ridden to Dellon Castle scrunched in the corner of the coach, her legs drawn up under her skirts on the bench. A ball—a small little ball that was attempting to disappear.

  Adalia closed the carriage door and walked to Theo, motioning him to move inside the castle. Tearing his eyes away from the motionless carriage, he turned and followed her in.

  “Did she talk to you?” Theo asked as his sister clicked the door closed behind him.

  She glanced at him, her eyes flickering away, avoiding.

  “Tell me, Ada, did she talk to you?”

  Her look met his, the green in her eyes pained. “Yes, she did.”

  “And?”

  She sighed, her brow crinkling. “And you need to go, Theo.”

  “No. I am not leaving her.” The words came out harsh, almost a yell.

  Adalia grabbed his forearm, not backing away from his flash of fury. “Yes. You need to leave. I am not saying forever—but now, in this time, you need to be gone.”

  Theo’s eyes closed for long seconds. He didn’t want to hear it. Didn’t want to acknowledge that he couldn’t fix her. That he wasn’t the one she needed.

  His eyelids cracked open, his gaze landing on his sister’s face. “I…I need her, Sprite.”

  “Yes.” Adalia nodded. “And I suspect she needs you as well. But she doesn’t know that yet. She can’t know that. Not with what happened to her.”

  Her other hand came up, and she grasped his shoulders, squaring herself in front of him. “You need to leave, Theo. She needs to not see you. Not be near you. Please.”

  “Can you promise me it will end?”

  His sister’s mouth clamped shut, her lips drawing inward. A slight shake of her head, and she shrugged with a long exhale. “I cannot. I don’t know what will happen. I don’t always understand how her mind works.”

  Brutal honesty.

  But that was why he came here, trusting Adalia above all others.

  Slowly, Theo nodded.

  There was nothing more he could do.

  He was a failure.

  ~~~

  Violet sat on a small round stool, plucking ambitious weeds from around the base of Adalia�
�s pink dwarf Centifolia roses. A long bout of midsummer rain during the past week had invigorated all the plants in the rose garden at Dellon Castle—including the weeds.

  The tips of her fingers wrapped around the pointy leaves of a chickweed and she yanked. It was good—satisfying—to be in control again. Even if it was only control of a small little patch of land. The weeds kept sprouting, but she had control. She could pluck each and every one of them from the ground, destroying them.

  If only controlling the people in her life had been that easy. Uncle Demetrick, Mr. Nullter, Malcolm, Fiona. All weeds. All people that played with her life—regarding her as a simpleton puppet on strings. All people that she wished she had plucked from her life far before they could do harm to her.

  The gravel on the path next to the square rose bed crunched, and her head popped up from the crouch she was in.

  “Oh, Violet, I did not realize you were out here.” The duke stopped, clippers in his right hand. “You were hidden between the bushes.”

  Violet smiled at Adalia’s husband. “Did Adalia send you out here to gather some buds?”

  He looked down at his hand, seemingly forgetting what he was carrying. “She did. She wanted a few flowers to set by the bassinet, so Edward would have the scent of roses locked into his mind forever. But she was specific—she wanted a strong, noble scent. Maid’s work, clearly, but Ada thought I would do a better job of choosing a manly scented rose than her maid.”

  Violet stifled a chuckle. “There is such a thing as a manly scented rose?”

  He shrugged with a smile. “Ada believes it, so I suppose there is. And I am apparently the only one that can deliver strong and noble.”

  Violet looked down, hiding her smile as she dropped the weed in her hand onto her pile of refuse. The man did love his wife.

  She stood from her stool, careful not to snag her dress against any of the thorny branches. Brushing the dirt from her gloves off on her apron, she looked up at him, sincerity in her eyes. “You are a good husband, Duke.”

  It gave him pause, as theirs had not always been the most cordial of relationships. A slight smile crossed his face as he offered a nod of acceptance. “And I would be a better one if I had a clue which one of these varieties was strong and noble and manly.” He waved the clippers in a sweep above the forty square plots of rose beds, each holding eight thriving plants.

  “Well, I have no clue either on which holds the essence of vigor and strength, but I am more than willing to help you sniff it out.”

  “Thank you.”

  Violet stepped carefully past the rose bushes and onto the gravel of the pathway. She motioned down the row. “I will take this side and you take the other?”

  He nodded, and they started. Walking slowly, she bent occasionally at open blooms, sniffing. Rose after rose held the most feminine of notes to Violet’s nose. The duke appeared to be having the same luck.

  They were onto the next row when the duke sneezed three times in quick succession.

  He looked out at the sea of roses, shaking his head. “Theo always enjoys saying I am a slave to my wife, and this current scene would, apparently, prove it beyond a doubt.”

  Violet’s look whipped to the duke at the mention of Theo.

  She had thought of Theo constantly during the past two months. She had driven him away—she knew that. But at the time—in the horror of how her mind had twisted after being captive in the mine—she had been incapable of doing anything but that.

  And since she had arrived at Dellon Castle—and Theo had left her there without a word—no one had dared to mention his name to her. Not Adalia. Not Cassandra when she had visited four weeks ago. No one.

  But the duke. The duke would dare just such a thing.

  He was oblivious to her stare as he bent to a pretty rep-tipped yellow rose and inhaled.

  “You speak of Theo. Have you heard from him?”

  The duke shrugged.

  She bit the tip of her tongue, debating on whether to say any more. “I worry on him. I worry about his book.”

  The duke glanced up at her, his eyebrows arched. “You know of his book?”

  “I do. The names of the fallen, their families. Fiona’s name was in his book. He thought she was dead. I figured that out before she stole me and threw me in that pit—that she was alive and had ill designs toward Theo. But I was stupid. I never imagined what she was capable of.”

  The duke stood straight, pulling himself to his full height. “He failed you on that threat, Violet, and he will not forgive himself for that.” He scratched the side of his jaw. “Yet, from what I understand of your time together, Theo wanted nothing more than to prove to you what he was made of. To prove to himself he was worthy of you. But even more so, I think he was trying to prove to himself that he was worthy of living his own life.”

  “Why would he need to do that?”

  “I don’t imagine he would have told you everything of his actions during the war.”

  She eyed the duke, suspicious. “What did he not tell me?”

  “You know of his book, yet I guess he would have only told you of those men he had caused the deaths of. Those were the ones that weighed heavily upon him—heavier than a hundred stones.” The duke started walking again, pausing at the next set of roses before looking to her. “But if I know Theo, he would not have told you of all those thousands of people he saved in the war.”

  Her jaw dropped. “He saved thousands?”

  The duke nodded. “And not just soldiers. Women and children, whole villages we were able to defend because of the information Theo and his men gathered.”

  “No, you are right. He did not tell me of that.”

  “No, because he has never reconciled how one side of it—death—could outweigh the other—life. He struggles constantly with that argument. And he can’t change the past. It is hard to find peace when one only remembers the bad.”

  “And you tell me this why?”

  “Did he tell you of the torture?”

  She nodded, solemn.

  “He believed he deserved it. Every strike of it. Every cut. Every drop of blood.” The duke leaned over for a quick sniff of a simple pink rose. “But he didn’t—not by far. Because Theo proved what he was made of—proved it a hundred times over in the war. Honor is all to him. Loyalty. But those deaths—they cost him—it changed him from what he was.”

  “Yes.” She nodded. “That I have seen.”

  He looked up to her without straightening. “Did you know him well before the war? When you were young?”

  “I did. We probably would have married, had it not been for my inheritance and a meddling uncle.”

  “I did not know that. Theo was….lighter back then.”

  “Yes. A rascal.” The mere thought of the long ago twinkle in Theo’s blue eyes brought a smile to her lips.

  “Yes.” The duke took another sniff of the pink rose and then shook his head with a chuckle. “The things he made me do in those days.”

  “Me as well.” She shrugged. “I was different then as well. Lighter.”

  “Here. Smell this one.” The duke pointed to the pink flower just below his face and then stood and took a step away from the bush to give her space. “I wish I had known you then.”

  “And not only after I learned to despise…well…men?”

  The duke shrugged. “It would have made our initial conversations more pleasant.”

  She chuckled as she stepped in front of him. “Maybe. Maybe not. I didn’t initially know if Adalia needed to be protected from you.”

  “You will always land on the side of Adalia, I realize that.”

  “I will.” Violet leaned in to reach the rose he had indicated and inhaled.

  “I also admire that.”

  She pointed to the pink rose, a smirk playing about her lips. “I think you are right. That is the one. It is by far the most manly of roses I smelled.”

  A grin twinkled in his eyes. “Are you just giving up as I am?”


  Her left eyebrow cocked as she looked to him. “I will not admit to it if you won’t?”

  “Agreed.”

  “Excellent. My nose could take no more. A few of those and Adalia will be happy.” She pointed to the pink roses, pausing a moment, her throat choking on the question she really wanted to ask the duke. Her look skittered up to him. “Theo…have you…” Her voice trailed off as her cheeks warmed.

  She found she couldn’t force the full question onto her tongue. Where was Theo? So instead, she shook her head and offered an awkward smile. “Forgive me—questions I have no right to.” She wiped her fingers on her apron and took a step backward. “I will leave you to this—Adalia will love your choice.” She started to move past the duke and along the path.

  “Oh, before I forget, Violet.”

  She turned back to him.

  “My stable master has reported you’ve exhausted all the trails on the western side of the estate ten times over. If you are going to ride today, you should try something on the eastern side. Inquire with Valence about the path. The cherry trees are starting to fruit in the orchard and might be a pretty sight.”

  She nodded. “Thank you for the suggestion. I will ask him on it.”

  { Chapter 22 }

  Violet leaned forward, patting the glistening brown neck of her mare. She had just slowed the horse’s gait, the wide-open trail they had been flying along now narrowing to a winding trail into the thick of the woods.

  This eastern trail she had enjoyed—far too much. So much so that she had lost herself in this side of the duke’s estate, the side she wasn’t familiar with, and now the light of the sky was quickly waning.

  She looked up through the canopy of the trees and frowned. She had a half hour, maybe less, before sunset. If she wasn’t back to the stables soon after nightfall, Valence would have a fit. As would Adalia. Probably the duke as well.

  But it was worth it. It always was. It had been her salvation, the riding.