Searching Hearts Box Set: Books 1-5

by St. Clair, Ellie

  “Off with him, then,” came the gruff voice of the first man. “Dump him in the Thames or something, but make sure to fill his clothes with bricks so that he will not float to the surface in a couple of days time.” A grim laugh escaped from his mouth. “We don’t need anyone asking questions, now, do we? And no one needs to know he was here either.”

  “Do you think anyone heard?” asked another man, only for the first man to chuckle darkly.

  “No, they’re all too busy either dancing or taking liberties elsewhere in the gardens.” He snorted in derision. “Besides, I scouted the place beforehand. I’ll check it over again but I doubt there’s anyone else here.”

  “Good, good,” came the reply, the voice then giving orders to the rest of the men who were busy wrapping up the body.

  Violet began to tremble all over, the threat of her demise suddenly growing a lot more probable. The first man was to do a check of the gardens, to ensure no one had heard the shot. Did that mean she was about to be discovered? Her eyes, wide and staring, made out four men lifting a cloth-wrapped bundle and, in the distance, she heard the sound of a horse and carriage.

  “Off with you,” the first man said, gruffly. “I’ll be along shortly.”

  3

  Violet’s mind was screaming, her hands clawing into the wooden bench as she tried to think of what she could do or where she could go. The murderer, this Roberts who had shot Sir Whitby, was now wandering around the gardens to ensure that there were no witnesses to his actions. Violet did not have to wonder what would happen to her if he was to find her, for his callousness had already shown her the kind of man he was.

  She could not leave the gazebo, for fear that he would find her, nor could she remain here indefinitely. She had to find someone, to tell of what she knew.

  A sudden scraping sound had her heart racing, her hands going to her mouth to stop herself from screaming out.

  “Come on, now,” came a low mutter, as someone stumbled into the gazebo. “Let’s see you.”

  Violet did not know who this man was, nor who he was speaking to, but his voice was not that of the first man, which allowed her to breathe a little easier. However, that did not mean that he did not work for the murderer, the thought of which sent panic straight through her veins once more.

  Staying as silent as she could, Violet watched as the stranger made his way to the side of the gazebo, bending low and looking out of the window frame as though watching for something.

  "Not here yet," he muttered, making Violet realize that he was talking to himself. "Or I've missed them."

  Her shaking had not stopped but lowered in intensity as she realized that this man was, in fact, waiting for the murderer to walk by. What he did not realize, it seemed, was that he was too late. Violet did not know whether to make him aware of her presence, as she was still entirely at a loss to know who he was. If he discovered her there, would he try to silence her too? Or would he wish to help her? It was too much of a risk to take, so Violet chose, instead, to keep utterly silent.

  Unfortunately, the decision was soon taken out of her hands. The man appeared to crouch down before something clattered to the floor. He muttered curses under his breath, bending down further. Violet could not see him at all, the darkness at the bottom of the gazebo hiding him completely. She could hear him searching for whatever it was he had dropped, although she suspected that he was trying to move as quietly as possible. Her pulse beat quicker, although she tried to breathe as shallowly as possible as the sound of his searching drew closer.

  Without warning, a hand brushed her skirts, and it took everything for Violet not to let out a scream.

  “Who’s there?” the man growled, standing up. “I warn you, it will be the worse for you if you do not reveal yourself.”

  Violet tried to stand but found her legs were not strong enough to allow such a thing.

  “Please,” she whispered, her words ragged. “Don’t hurt me, I beg of you.”

  “Hurt you?” he replied, his voice a harsh whisper, likely after realizing she was a woman. “Why would I do such a thing?”

  Relief flooded her. “You are not with….with them?”

  “No, I am not.”

  She took a breath, clasping her hands tightly in her lap. “Then might I ask who you are, sir?” Violet was not quite sure that she believed this gentleman was not with the murderers, for he had very evidently been aware of their presence this evening.

  “My name is Lord Greville, the Earl of Wanfield,” came the surprising reply. “And you are?”

  “Lady Violet Harrington,” she murmured after a moment’s hesitation, unable to think of another response in her shock, although she was now convinced that this man was not who he said he was. An earl did not gad about gardens one dark evening, in search of a murderer! At least, no earls that she knew, and she had met her fair share.

  “You are the daughter of the Duke of Ware, then, I believe,” the Earl replied, keeping his voice barely above a whisper. “Whatever are you doing here?”

  Violet was not sure what to say, for, in that one sentence, he had at least proven that he knew of her family. That meant that he was likely from within society, at the very least. Growing frustrated with the darkness that shrouded them both, she wished she could make out his features. Could he truly be the Earl of Wanfield?

  “I might ask you the very same,” she replied, feeling a little stronger now that she was no longer alone. “An earl on the trail of a murderer?”

  His swift intake of breath told her that she had revealed more than she had realized.

  “You saw them, then?” he asked, harshly. “When? Where?”

  “Hush, please!” she whispered, loudly. “The man himself is searching the gardens this very moment, to ensure there were no witnesses.”

  He paused, evidently thinking over what she had to say. "Then he will not be the only one searching, for there are more of them," he murmured, after a moment. "This gazebo is neatly tucked away – indeed, had I not known it was here, I might not have seen it, since the darkness of the evening hides it so well. How did you come to find it?”

  “I just…stumbled upon it,” Violet could not help but tremble. “Do you think he will find me — us?” The bench creaked as she shook, suddenly very cold and frightened once more.

  “May I?”

  Before she could respond, the gentleman stepped forward, attempting to sit down next to her. The bench was not all that wide, but he managed it somehow as she swept her skirts out of his way. Apparently, he was telling the truth about being in the gazebo before, for how would he have known that the bench was here otherwise?

  “You are cold,” he murmured, sliding his jacket from his body. Warmth enveloped her as he pressed it around her shoulders, and she inhaled the scent of pine that came from him, finding that it calmed her somewhat. “Let us remain here for a few more minutes and then, once I am sure that all is well, we shall return to the ball.”

  “I thank you,” she whispered, fighting the strange desire to lean against him and place her head on his shoulder. “I will admit to being quite afraid.”

  She could feel his breath on her cheek as he dropped his head, whispering quietly in her ear. Her trembling increased for a moment, but not from fright this time.

  “What was it you saw?” he asked. “Can you tell me in detail?”

  Not wishing to recall the horrifying spectacle to her mind but understanding the need to, Violet closed her eyes and quickly sketched out the details, shuddering as she recalled how the smaller man’s body had slumped to the ground, life gone from him in one quick moment.

  "Could you identify the first man if you saw him again?" he whispered, hoarsely. "Think hard, Lady Harrington. This is of great import."

  "I – I do not know," she replied, softly. "I might be able to recognize his voice, although I do recall that the deceased man – "

  “Sir Whitby,” he interrupted.

  “Yes, Sir Whitby,” she continued, with o
nly a slight shudder.“He did refer to this man as ‘Roberts’.”

  The answer seemed to satisfy him, for he looked away from her and did not ask anything further. Violet settled into his coat a little further, pulling it snuggly around her shoulders. Soon she would be back at the ball, and all of this would seem like a dream or something out of a mystery novel.

  “Come,” he said, and helped her walk towards the door, bending suddenly to pick up a pocket watch, which must have been what he was searching for earlier.

  “We must be quiet,” he murmured, as they stepped out into the cold air. “The danger has not yet gone.”

  Violet swallowed her fear and let her eyes adjust to the moonlight. So far the Earl had proven himself to be trustworthy and certainly hadn't shown any sign of wanting to hurt her as of yet. She was still curious as to what he had been doing slinking around the gazebo, and why he was so interested in what she had seen. He seemed to have some understanding of what was happening — much more than she did. At the moment she was going to have to trust him, for she certainly could not get back to the ballroom without his help.

  “Wait!” he whispered.

  They had not moved but two steps away from the gazebo when she saw him pause, feeling the tension ripple down his arm through the hand she had rested on it. Going quite numb with fright as he held up a hand in a sign for her to remain silent, Violet did as she was asked and waited, wishing that her breathing was not coming so quickly but aware that she could not prevent her fright. Was someone coming? Had they left the gazebo too early? Her mind ran with images of what the man might do should he find them, for she was quite sure that he would act quickly without any regard to who they were or what they had seen.

  In truth, it probably would not matter to him whether or not they had witnessed the murder, for he would not take any chances. If he had a group of men at his beck and call, Violet and the Earl would just be another two unexplained disappearances, their bodies sent to the bottom of the Thames where no one might ever find them. She shuddered at the thought, her heart pounding her chest.

  Then, entirely unexpectedly, the Earl turned around, wrapped both arms around her waist and pressed her back against the side of the gazebo, his eyes catching the moonlight as he looked down at her. Violet stared up at him, her hands flat against his chest, seeing his face for the first time. Briefly she noted eyes the color of cocoa, and a strong jaw with a hint of stubble under an aquiline nose. However, she did not have much longer to contemplate his face any further for, without warning, he lowered his head and kissed her soundly.

  Violet did not know what to do or how to respond, remaining entirely frozen despite the Earl’s warm lips on hers. He was urging her to respond in his own way, his hands pressing against her back gently. Violet could not understand what he was doing, struggling to think clearly as his kiss intensified.

  Then, slowly she began to feel a most unexpected sensation. It was a gradual, unfurling warmth that started in the pit of her stomach and began to spread itself all through her, right to the very tips of her fingers. She discovered that her hands had made their way around his neck, and she threaded them into his hair as he angled his head to deepen the kiss. Whatever it was he was intending by this, Violet was already quite lost in all that it was bringing to her.

  She did not know how long he kissed her for, her eyes remaining closed when he finally lifted his head.

  "You are quite lovely," he murmured, capturing her chin in his hand. "Although I should apologize for my lack of propriety."

  She gave him a slightly dazed smile. “Not at all,” she murmured, the warmth that had spread through her now giving her the strength to stand without his assistance. She now had a few more moments to take her fill of his face, softened by the hint of a gentle smile. He was a good-looking man -- not classically handsome, but intriguing. She supposed she had attended the same functions as him in the past. Violet wondered that she had not previously noticed him. His dark mahogany locks, slightly longer than was in fashion, had a slight curl at the ends, and Violet fought the itch to push back a few strands that had fallen over his forehead.

  She watched as he bent to pick up his coat, which had slipped off her shoulders to the ground during their embrace. As he slipped it back on, she stood a little awkwardly, not knowing what to say, until he stepped back and held out his arm.

  “We should return to the ball,” he said, quietly. “You have been outside for quite long enough and I would not like to disconcert your mother.”

  Violet saw the way his eyes darted to and fro around the gardens, as she slowly became aware of exactly why he had kissed her. The warmth she felt evaporated at once, the slight smile falling from her lips as she took his arm.

  “Of course,” she murmured, dully, cursing herself for her lack of sense as they walked through the gardens together, returning to the ball and her reality.

  4

  “Lady Harrington, is that you? Violet Harrington!”

  Lord Joshua Greville frowned heavily at the loud call, his body tensing as he continued to walk along the path back towards the ball with Lady Violet Harrington on his arm.

  “Ah, Lady Beauforth,” said his companion, dropping her hand from his arm and greeting her friend as she approached. “I was walking in the gardens and got quite lost, I’m afraid. I was very fortunate that Lord — ” She turned towards him, obviously about to introduce him, forcing him to act.

  “Shall we continue this conversation inside?” he asked, cutting her off somewhat brusquely before she said his name. “I believe the wind is picking up and I would not wish for you all to become chilled.” He put on a gentlemanly smile, bowing slightly and spreading his arm out towards the French doors, to where they might return. In the lamplight, he saw Lady Beauforth and her companion study him for a moment, glancing towards Lady Harrington, before nodding.

  “Of course,” Lady Beauforth murmured, stepping forward and linking arms with Lady Harrington. “As you say, my lord, is it growing quite cool.”

  Relieved that he had managed to keep his name from being spoken, Joshua fell into step behind the ladies, his sharp eyes seeking out any kind of strange moving shadows amongst the dark shapes of the bushes and shrubs in the gardens. He thought he saw movement in the darkness of the hedge, but he could not be sure.

  Once the ladies were safely indoors, he bid a quick farewell to Lady Harrington, aware of the slight blush in her cheeks as she curtsied, before stepping away. He had to find a place where he could survey the ball but still remain hidden. The balcony lent itself to his cause and, before long, Joshua found himself sitting on a marble bench, almost entirely shrouded in shadow.

  Apparently, he was not so disguised that his long-standing friend, Lord Sebastian Taylor, could not find him.

  “Is something amiss?”

  Startled, Joshua jumped, growling as his friend sat down next to him with his lips curved into a smile.

  “Scare you, did I?”

  Joshua did not want to admit to himself that his eyes had, almost unconsciously, discovered Lady Harrington amongst the dancers, and had been unable to leave her since. She was graceful, yet she wore a preoccupied look on her face, which was not surprising considering all that she had just endured.

  He shrugged in response to his friend, refusing to confess that he had been so distracted by the lady that he had not heard Lord Taylor approach. There was something about Lady Harrington that kept her predominately in his thoughts. He couldn’t put his finger on it. She was beautiful, yes, and her intelligence was evident through the expressions he caught from her vivid blue eyes, the color of the gemstone she wore around her neck. He cursed at the desire that had arisen in him when her shapely, soft body was pressed against his, and when he had tasted the sweetness on her lips and smelled the lavender of her hair.

  “Someone caught your eye?” asked Taylor, who was polished as always, his sandy hair fashioned in the latest style, short above his forehead with long sideburns, his clothing im
maculate.

  “In truth, yes,” Joshua replied, quietly, pushing away his thoughts. “But not for the reasons you might think.”

  “Oh?”

  Frustrated, Joshua shook his head. “I went out to the gardens as you know, in the hope of discovering the names or at least, the appearances of those involved in this wicked scheme, only to find out that I was too late.”

  Taylor’s face lost its merry look at once, his dark eyebrows forming one, deep line as he frowned. “But I thought you were told that Sir Whitby was meeting a man at --”

  "Regardless of what we were told, I did not quite make it on time," Joshua interrupted, shaking his head. "However, I discovered a lady in the gazebo from where I had planned to scout."

  He heard Taylor’s sharp intake of breath, evidently aware of what this meant.

  “She witnessed a murder,” Joshua concluded.

  “Good heavens,” Taylor muttered, passing a hand over his perfectly styled hair. “So they have killed Sir Whitby?”

  “It appears so,” Joshua replied, heavily. “And I was not only too late to prevent it, but to bring the men responsible to justice tonight.”

  They had been chasing this specific group for some time, but, as yet, had been unable to discover their true identities or catch them in the act of a single crime. It was as though these men were shadows, hiding themselves with ease. They were clearly extremely well organized, although Joshua had not yet been able to discover who it was that directed the group.

  Some years ago, Joshua had determined that life as an earl was somewhat boring for a man of his caliber. He wanted more than just seeking out a wife, producing the heir and the spare, and then losing himself in mistresses and wealth. Yes, there was some land to oversee and business to attend to, but he wanted to use his mind and skills to benefit society as a whole, although there did not seem much an earl could do without damaging his reputation.