Joshua glanced up and saw the way his friend was grinning at him, hearing the irony in his words. Clearly, Taylor was well aware of what — or rather, who — was preventing him from sleeping.
“You do not deserve her, you know,” Taylor said, quietly. “Not after what you did.”
“I thought you supported me!” Joshua exclaimed, pausing midway through buttering his toast.
“I did,” Taylor replied, at once. “Although I did not expect you to go to her bed, only to leave it again. That was quite a dreadful thing to do, Greville. I still am not quite sure what you were thinking.”
Joshua shook his head. “Neither do I,” he mumbled, putting the butter knife down. “Nor do I know how to make amends.”
Their conversation was interrupted by Lady Greville’s arrival. Joshua got to his feet at once, as did Lord Taylor, but she laughed and waved a hand, telling them not to stand on ceremony on her behalf. She was dressed in a pale yellow gown, and seemed to brighten the room when she walked in.
“Now,” she said, seating herself next to her husband and reaching for the tea tray. “What progress have we made? I must confess that I am getting quite bored cooped up in the house!”
“But you must remain indoors,” Joshua insisted, paling at the thought of what might happen to her were she to set foot outside of the house. “They will know of our marriage by now and will have made the connection that you were the one in the gardens that evening.”
He saw the way the brightness dimmed in her eyes, the deep breath she drew in.
“We have to be careful,” he said, quietly. “You cannot put yourself at risk.”
“You think they still wish to do me in, then?” she asked, the lightness gone from her tone. “And they do not think that you or Taylor are involved?”
“I cannot be sure, but no, I do not think so,” he replied, wishing he could take her hand so as to reassure her. “That is why you must remain indoors and one of us will always be with you, as we have been this last week.”
She sighed but did not disagree, evidently aware that he was doing the best for her that he could.
“So, let us consider where we are,” Joshua continued, looking expectantly at Taylor. “Have you discovered anything?”
Taylor grinned, which immediately sent a spark of hope into Joshua’s chest.
“I believe we are getting close, Greville.”
“Oh?”
Taylor cleared his throat and sat back in his chair. "As you know, the first man we caught from the evening you both met was very uncooperative, refusing at first to give any details about the second man who came after you – or who it is organizing everything behind the scenes."
“Did you do what I suggested?” Violet asked, a little breathlessly. “Did he give up more information?”
Taylor nodded, his eyes lighting. “Your suggestion worked brilliantly, Lady Greville.”
“Violet, please,” she replied, quickly, as though wishing to do away with formality.
Joshua grimaced as he saw Taylor smile, irritated that his wife was smiling at his friend instead of at him, even though he knew he was being quite unreasonable.
“Very good,” Taylor continued, inclining his head a little. “In short, your suggestion of offering the option of swinging from the gallows that very afternoon, were he not to give up more of what he knew, worked very well. He is now being transported to the colonies: his ‘reward’ for telling us what he knew, as well as keeping him safe from any further consequences from the man in charge.”
Joshua was leaning forward in his seat, his eyes fixed on his friend. His heart was slamming into his chest in a way it had not done before, his blood thundering through his veins. “Did he give you a name?”
“He did,” Taylor replied, smiling. “The man and this Roberts work for, the man in charge of it all…Swinney North.”
The expectation, the hope, the happiness – it all left Joshua in one huge rush, making his shoulders slump and his head droop. “Swinney North?” he said, throwing himself back into his chair. “What kind of a name is that?”
Taylor shrugged. “Is it what the man is known as, although it is not his real name by any means, that much is obvious.”
“And no description?”
Shaking his head, Taylor threw Joshua a glance. “No, those who did North’s dirty work never did see him. Their orders came from this Mr. Roberts, who I believe is the man Lady Greville saw shoot Sir Whitby that night.”
“And we have no idea who this man is, or where he might be?”
"I am to visit our little friends from the street this evening," Taylor replied, with a quick grin. "They have been keeping a sharp eye."
“You were also trailing the other man,” Violet interrupted. “The one who escaped that night at the ball? Did you find him?”
Joshua grimaced, seeing Taylor throw him a worried glance. “I did,” he said, taking the responsibility away from Taylor. He had not wanted to share this news with his wife but knew he had very little choice.
“I did find him, only a couple of days ago,” Joshua continued, quietly. “He is watching the house.” The moment he said those words, he saw the way his wife’s face paled, her fingers slipping from the china cup she held in her hand, making it rattle in the saucer.
“That is why we must be careful,” Taylor added, after a moment’s pause. “You are protected here, Lady Greville, but, as yet, you cannot leave.”
Joshua wanted to draw closer to his wife, the urge to reassure her overwhelming him. Before he knew what he was doing, he caught her hand in his, feeling the racing pulse in the veins at her wrist.
“You are quite safe here, I promise you,” he said, quietly. “Please, just trust me and remain indoors.”
Violet’s eyes met his, but she did not pull her hand away. Instead, she allowed it to rest there and continued to study him, as though drawing strength from his gaze.
“I do wish I could be of more help,” she said, eventually. “I feel so useless being inside all the time.” Slowly, she drew her hand away but gave him a brief smile with it.
“You have been of a great help already,” Taylor said, quickly. “This will all be over soon.”
Violet nodded, her gaze drifting back to Joshua for a moment. “So, where are we? What have we still to do?”
Joshua frowned, ticking items off his fingers one at a time. “We need to discover what it was Sir Whitby was required to give to this man, Mr. Roberts, who, in turn, would give to our mystery instigator, Swinney North.”
“We need to discover who Swinney North is, as well as what he wants,” Taylor muttered, shaking his head.
"And we need to ensure that you are kept safe," Joshua finished, looking over at his wife. "That will not take too much brainpower, will it?" He grinned but found that neither Taylor nor Violet smiled back.
“I should visit Sir Whitby’s widow,” Violet said, slowly. “I might be able to discover something that helps.” Sir Whitby’s death had been announced in the society papers only this week -- evidently, Roberts’ men hadn’t weighed down the body well enough -- so the news was still fresh in her mind.
“No!” Joshua and Taylor said at once, their voices equally loud.
"I must," Violet insisted, apparently disregarding everything they had just said. "How else am I to help?" As Joshua was about to protest further, she held up one hand and waited for his stuttering to stop. "You may come with me if you wish it, but I am sure that walking from the house steps to the carriage and back again will not result in my death. You will be right beside me, will you not?"
“But you did not know the man,” Joshua spluttered, trying desperately to think of any kind of excuse to keep his wife indoors. “What possible reason could you have for visiting his widow?”
She lifted one delicate shoulder, a glint of steel in her eye. “I am married to a wealthy man, and it is my duty to show care and compassion to others. I am merely doing what I ought.” The corner of her mouth curved into a
smile. “Besides, a woman grieving is not going to turn a sympathetic lady from her house, whether she knows her or not. I am sure I will be able to bring her a little comfort and, perhaps, be able to help our investigation also.”
Joshua wanted to protest but discovered that he could not find a way to stop her from doing such a thing. He knew that she was determined enough to do what she wanted, regardless of his opinion and, as such, he would be best suited to just go along with her.
“Very well,” he sighed, the delight in her expression making his heart lift. “I shall send for the carriage.”
13
“You see?” Violet murmured, as she sat on the seat across from her husband. “We are quite safe.”
Joshua did nothing other than grunt, a dark expression on his face as the carriage rolled away. She knew he had not wanted to allow her to visit Mrs. Whitby, but he was learning quickly that she was not a lady who was easily biddable.
Her husband said very little as the carriage trundled its way through the cobbled streets, and Violet directed her gaze out of the window instead of towards him. Try as she might, she was still unable to stop the growing feelings she had for him, even in light of what he had done. She found her skin tingling whenever they were close together, sparks shooting up her arm if their fingers accidentally brushed. At the most inopportune times, she would catch herself recalling all that they had shared on that one night, her body growing warm with the memory.
She wanted to dislike him, wanted to find him quite distasteful, but the truth of the matter was that she felt precisely the opposite. He was warm, strong yet gentle when necessary, quick to smile and considerate of her wants and needs.
She had been more than a little surprised to hear all that he was involved in, discovering that her respect for him actually grew. A man with a title had no need, usually, to take on any kind of work, but he had done so of his own free will, choosing to start something that would benefit society as a whole.
Neither did he proclaim his work to the ton as a whole, keeping it as quiet as he could. There was no need for recognition for him, rather a desire to simply put his mind to good use. Violet could not help but appreciate that about him, thinking that she found him a great deal more respectable than when she had first returned to London in search of him.
That did not stop the pain in her heart over his treatment of her, however. She felt more like a possession than ever, which was perhaps why she was digging her heels in and doing what she thought was best, regardless of his opinions. He had taken her and then discarded her, ensuring that she was fully aware of his branding. She hoped that she had made it more than evident that she was not about to be treated that way, and certainly was not going to behave in the way he wished. No, she was as willing and as keen to put her own mind to use, in the same way he had, which in itself would show her husband that she was not going to stay home and simply wait until he had reached his conclusions and solved this matter in its entirety.
Not that she would say that she was not in the least bit afraid, for that would be quite false. She did not consider it a weakness to admit to one’s fright, for having people seeking to kill you would surely bring out fear in even the strongest of men’s hearts. Though she did not want to admit it, even to herself, Violet knew that her husband’s presence made her feel secure, as she knew that he would protect her as he had done before.
“You are trembling,” he murmured, breaking into her thoughts.
Violet glanced at him as his hands touched hers, the heat from his fingers seeping through her gloves.
“I am quite all right,” she stated, firmly, pulling her hand from his grip. “Although I do thank you for your concern.”
Turning her gaze back towards the window, she caught the way he dropped his head for a moment, and she watched him out of the corner of her eye as he studied his gloves, turning them over in his hands.
“We are going to have to discuss our relationship at some point, Violet,” he said softly. “You need to know how sorry I am.”
“I am more than aware of your many, numerous apologies, Joshua,” Violet replied, smartly. “I have no need of more.”
He opened his mouth to say something, only to close it again as though thinking better of it. Violet’s heart tugged, painfully, but she chose to say nothing, keeping her gaze fixed on the window.
“I do not want you to think that I do not care for you at all, Violet,” he said, so quietly that she had to strain to hear him. “I know that what I did was unfeeling and callous, but that does not mean that I do not feel. I do, truly. I made a mistake, and I must beg you to find a way to forgive me so that we can find a way forward, together.” He touched her hand again, and she jumped, startled.
“I do not want to have a cold marriage,” he said, as her eyes met his. “Do you think we can find a way through these difficulties?”
Violet wanted to say yes, but instead, only lifted one shoulder before letting it drop. She wanted love and affection, not just a small warm feeling that dwelt in his heart. She wanted to share his life, and for him to share hers so that she was not simply an adornment on his sleeve, an afterthought for when the day was at an end.
“Can you not even speak to me?”
The desperation in his eyes broke her, a sigh escaping from her parted lips.
“What is it that you need from me, Violet? What can I offer you that will help us to move forward, together?”
She captured his gaze, even though her very soul trembled. “I want what you said to me at the very start, Joshua. You promised me you felt an affection for me, something that would grow and flourish. I never wanted a marriage without love, without an understanding and a care for me and for my passions. This life should be shared, for I will not just be something to warm your bed at night, before being turned aside until you are prepared to show me some attention again.” Her voice broke and she turned her body to face the window, blocking him from view. “I am worth more than that.”
There was a long pause, a pause where Violet fought for control and Joshua found he could not respond. She had opened her heart to him, shown him how vulnerable she truly was, and the guilt he felt assuaged him.
The carriage drew to a stop outside a small house, meaning that their conversation was forced to come to an end.
“Here,” Joshua mumbled, throwing open the door and climbing down. “Let me help you.”
Violet placed her hand in his and stepped down, dropping his fingers almost as soon as she could. Now was not the time to consider what it was he felt for her, nor what she was feeling for him. It was all too confusing, too difficult to comprehend. For the moment, she needed to focus on Mrs. Whitby, for she was going to have to choose her words carefully in order to discover any information about what Sir Whitby was meant to have given to the mysterious Swinney North.
Mrs. Whitby was a small, thin lady, whose graying hair and pale blue eyes portrayed her older than her years. She was immediately put at ease by Violet's introduction and seemed quite pleased with their visit, although the grief and pain she felt was evident in her expression. She led Violet down the hall into a sitting room. While small, the home was quaint and well cared for.
“I wanted to say how sorry I was to hear of your husband’s death and to see if there was anything I could to do to help you in your time of distress,” Violet said, gently, her heart going out to the lady, who pulled a handkerchief from her sleeve as Violet spoke. Violet threw a glance to Joshua, who, understanding at once, muttered something about the horses and wandered from the room. If she was to speak freely with the woman, then Joshua’s presence would not be required. In fact, were he to stay, then it might be more of a hindrance than a help.
“You are very kind,” the lady replied, sniffing quietly. “How did you hear of my husband’s death?”
“In truth, my husband was the one who knew him,” Violet explained, not untruthfully. “He shared with me what had happened.”
“They found his body
floating in the Thames,” Mrs. Whitby exclaimed, suddenly, startling Violet. “They say he had been shot!”
“I am terribly sorry to hear that,” Violet murmured, as the lady began to cry in earnest. She had not mean to upset the woman, but hoped by helping to find the man who ordered Sir Whitby’s murderer she could provide her with some justice. “That is truly awful. Are they seeking to find the perpetrator?”
Mrs. Whitby looked at her with red-rimmed eyes, an expression of utter hopelessness on her face. "The constabulary is unable to do much," she said, sadly. "They have told me that they doubt they will be able to find the man responsible."
Violet nodded, not wanting to think about what a body might look like when it had been in the water for some time. She shuddered nonetheless, closing her eyes for a moment in order to push the memory of that night away.
“Was he involved in anything of concern?” she asked, carefully. “I know that my own husband has said of late that there are some nefarious gentlemen at the gambling clubs.” She shook her head, as though relieved Joshua had finally given them up. “These men and their vices!”
Mrs. Whitby did not look upset at her question, although a slight frown appeared as she thought. “Sir Whitby did enjoy such things, but he did not mention any trouble.” Her eyes filled with fresh tears as she shook her head. “Then again, he had been quite distracted of late, muttering things at all times of the day.”
“Muttering things?” Violet asked, trying not to show too much interest. “Can you remember anything he said? I am sure any knowledge you have will be of help to the constabulary.”
“Oh, no, I do not think so,” Mrs. Whitby replied, at once. “He talked under his breath very often, and they were often about trivial matters — gentlemen he was to meet, documents he had to work on, issues that needed to be fixed almost right there and then!”
Violet’s interest was piqued. “Documents?”
Mrs. Whitby met her gaze and smiled tremulously. “Yes, although I cannot be sure what it was specifically. He was always so quiet about his work.”
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