“I won!” Aimee flung her arms around Mac. “Did you see me, Papa? I’m faster than any of them.”
“I did see, sweetheart.” Mac hugged her back and ruffled her hair. “You’re astonishing.”
Aimee danced happily out of her father’s embrace. “Did you see, Violet?” She stopped. “Violet, what’s wrong?”
Violet leaned on Daniel’s side, her hand to her chest. Daniel led her to the nearest bench and sat her on it. Aimee, concerned, came to sit beside her.
“It’s all right, Violet.” Aimee patted her hand. “You’ll feel better in a moment.”
“She was worried about you, pet,” Daniel said. “And she’s right. You shouldn’t have stayed out here alone.”
Aimee looked at him in confusion, and at Mac, who clearly agreed.
Innocence. Aimee had no idea what could happen to a twelve-year-old girl in this giant city—anywhere, in fact. Aimee had never known the horror of what Violet had experienced, and Daniel and all the Mackenzies would make certain she never did.
Aimee, still confused, patted Violet’s hand again. Violet looked at Daniel, tears in her eyes, but her breathing had slowed.
“Come on, love,” Mac said, holding his hand out to Aimee. “Let’s go home and make ourselves sick on too many cakes for tea.”
Aimee stood up readily. She ran and fetched her hoop then returned to Mac, took his hand, and walked out of the park beside her adoptive father, a spring in her step again.
Daniel took Aimee’s place on the bench and folded his hands around Violet’s. “All right now, lass?”
“I’m sorry.” Violet drew a long breath. “I grow angry at my mother for her hysterics, and here I am, having them myself.”
“For good reason. I don’t want Aimee to ever feel anything but safe, which means we should have been more diligent watching her. And Mac will be, you can be certain.”
Violet shook her head. “I’m never going to be free of this, am I?”
“The panicking? You are. Because you’re with me now, and I’m going to keep you absolutely safe.”
Violet looked skeptical, not because she thought Daniel was lying, he understood, but because no one had ever protected her before.
But none of that mattered. Daniel would protect her, he vowed, from this day to forever. Whether Violet believed him or not.
Celine, at the last possible minute, refused to go to Berkshire. The country frightened her. It was too big, too wet, too terrifying. She liked cities with modern houses, parlor stoves, and good plumbing. In short, Violet thought in irritation, she’d found a cushy billet with the duke and didn’t want to leave it. But Celine also expected Violet to stay with her. She couldn’t do without her Violet.
Before Violet could argue, beg, or resign herself to being her mother’s drudge again, she learned exactly how determined the Mackenzie family could be.
Violet was going with Daniel and the family to Berkshire, and that was that. If Celine wanted to stay in London, she could remain at the duke’s house as long as she pleased. Eleanor and Hart were staying in London for a time, as were Isabella and Mac, the two couples having social obligations they couldn’t yet leave. Ainsley and Cameron, Beth and Ian, the children of all four families, and Daniel and Violet, on the other hand, were going to Berkshire, come what may.
When this was explained to Violet’s mother, firmly, by Eleanor, Celine turned surprisingly obedient. Of course Violet should have time with her friends in the country, Celine said. Mary, who also had a horror of the country, would remain with her to look after things. And Celine could cultivate the duchess’s friends as new clients. She’d again become the most sought-after medium in fashionable London.
Violet had her misgivings about that, but Eleanor, the duchess, with her lovely blue eyes and wide smile, took over.
“Indeed, my friends will love her,” Eleanor said. “Madame Celine is quite a wonderful medium. She’s called forth my great-great-grandmother Finella, and we even reached the legendary Malcolm Mackenzie, the only member of the Mackenzie family to survive the Forty-Five—that was the Scottish uprising under Bonnie Prince Charlie, Violet. His Highland Scots was so thick that the little spirit guide—what’s her name—Adelaide—could barely understand him. Hart says it’s all nonsense, but he had quite an interesting chat with old Malcolm, asked him for advice about the estate and the distillery and other things. Malcolm said he was flattered we’d named our youngest son after him. We all had a lovely time.”
Eleanor related this with a mischievous twinkle in her eyes, and Violet felt better. If anyone could keep Celine in check, it would be the Duchess of Kilmorgan.
Violet enjoyed the short train journey to Berkshire, in which she was again surrounded by children.
Gavina had long since decided that Violet was one of the family. Danny would marry her, and they would have babies, and Gavina could help look after them.
“Only until I grow up,” Gavina said confidently to Violet as she sat next to her in the train compartment. “Then I’m going to be a jockey.”
“Girls can’t be jockeys,” Jamie said in his resigned, I’m-older-than-you-and-know-better manner.
Jamie, as the oldest Mackenzie son, had the awe of the others. Never mind that five-year-old Lord Hart Alec Mackenzie was the actual heir to the dukedom. Alec didn’t seem at all conscious that he was the social superior of his cousins. Jamie, Ian’s son, had the rule of them. From what Violet observed while staying with Ian and Beth, Jamie had inherited his father’s intelligence as well as his mother’s spirit.
“Dad says I can be the best rider he’s ever trained,” Gavina returned hotly. “Angelo says so too, and Dad’s jockeys aren’t too proud to give me advice. You see if I’m not a jockey, Jamie Mackenzie.”
“All right, Gavina,” Ainsley said. “You have made your declaration. Now be polite. We have a guest.”
“Violet isn’t a guest, Mummy,” Gavina scoffed. “She’s going to marry Danny.”
Fortunately, Daniel was in a different compartment with Ian and Cameron and couldn’t see Violet blush.
“The Mackenzie men can rather bowl you over,” Beth said gently to Violet as Ainsley continued to quiet the argument. “Daniel is no different from his uncles. You believe your life is plodding along, and suddenly you are places you never thought you’d be.”
“Gracious, yes,” Ainsley said, turning back to the adult conversation. “But make certain it’s your choice, Violet, and make sure Danny knows it. The Mackenzies can be very . . . persuasive.”
Violet was aware that the children had stopped arguing and were listening as hard as they could.
“They can be,” Violet said. “And you are right about finding myself in places I never thought I’d go. For instance, I’ve never been to Berkshire.”
Ainsley and Beth, and what children were in the compartment with them, laughed, and the moment eased.
The journey to the middle of Berkshire itself wasn’t long, but sorting themselves into coaches and carts to reach the house once they arrived at the Hungerford train station took much time. All the children wanted to go with Violet, but there wasn’t room, and compromises had to be made.
Finally Cameron dictated who would go where, in a manner that brooked no argument. Violet went off with Beth and Ian, their children, and their two dogs to a house that was old, huge, and rambling.
In spite of its size, the house had a homey feel, much like Beth and Ian’s London house did. Each family had its own suite in upstairs rooms—Ian walked straight up to theirs, barely giving a nod to the staff who came out to greet them.
Violet found she’d been given two rooms to herself, a little sitting room and a bedroom next to it with a wide, canopied bed. The windows of both overlooked a slope of ground down to the canal at the base of a meadow. The air was soft, the hills gentle, trees lining fields tinged with green. All was b
eauty, quiet, peace.
Violet wanted to embrace that peace to her and never let it go. To this point, her life had stretched before her, bleak and predictable, a straight road, gray and empty. Now the path was obscured with uncertainty. Violet knew that when she broke through this obscuring thicket, she might find the road straight and empty again. And the thought terrified her.
But the next week was the happiest of Violet’s life. Every morning after breakfast, she accompanied Daniel to the shed to work on the motorcar.
Daniel had no intention of having Violet simply watch him work—he expected her advice and opinions, and her help. Their hands together held bolts and sockets, rods and gaskets, or smeared grease on bearings. Violet got filthy and tired, but then Daniel would look up at her, give her his searing smile, hook an arm around her, and pull her close for a kiss.
The casual intimacy drove her wild. Daniel did nothing more than kiss her, though those kisses were full of promise and wickedness.
She and Daniel didn’t spend all their time in the shed, however. Daniel worked plenty with his father with the horses, as he was a partner in his father’s training business. Violet was also drawn into Ainsley’s and Beth’s activities, and those of the children.
When Violet said innocently at supper one night that she’d never been on a horse, a ripple of horror went around the table. The Mackenzie brood, as usual, ate supper with the adults, though the littlest ones had already been put to bed.
“You’ve never been on a horse?” Eileen, Isabella’s daughter, asked. She wrinkled up her face. “How can someone never have been on a horse?”
“Not everyone’s uncle runs a racing stable,” Ainsley said, admonishing. “Different people have different lives, Eileen.”
Eileen stared in frank astonishment. That a person could live without horses apparently had never occurred to her.
“That’s all right, Eileen,” Violet said quickly. “I’ve always lived in cities, you see. And I travel quite a lot. I’ve never had the opportunity to learn to ride. We always go in coaches or trains.”
“Easily remedied,” Daniel said. “Tomorrow after breakfast, we’ll get you up on a horse. Ian and Dad had to teach Beth to ride, once upon a time.”
“Yes, and they terrified the life out of me,” Beth said. “But I grew fond of dear Emmie. She’s still in the pastures at Kilmorgan, in her twenties I believe. A fine old horse.”
“Violet will need someone placid like Emmie,” Daniel said. “How about Medusa?”
Violet started. “I don’t think I want to climb aboard a horse called Medusa.”
“She was named that because she gets her mane in a perilous state,” Aimee explained. “No matter how much grooming. It’s like snakes around her head. She looks so funny.”
“But she’s a sweetheart,” Daniel said.
“Nah,” Jamie said. “I think Violet needs someone like Bessie. A little spirited, but her gaits are smooth and easy to sit. She has a lot of heart, that horse.”
An argument ensued, up and down the table, about what horse would be just right for Violet. They all participated, except, Violet noted, Ian.
Ian only ate and watched his family. He loved to watch his family, Violet had noticed. Any tension drained from Ian whenever he looked at his wife or children. His face would soften, his mouth quirked into a little smile, and his eyes warmed.
Ian had at first been wary of Violet staying with them in London, until he’d discovered that Violet could tell him everything about any person she saw passing by the window. They made it into a game, Violet and Ian watching passers-by then each relating what they’d seen and comparing notes. Ian was good at it, finding far more nuances about the person than Violet.
Ian was not as good reading a person’s emotional state, however. Violet trumped him there. But Ian could remember every article of clothing and how each was arranged, what the person was carrying, and conclude from all this where they’d come from and where they were going. Ian won every match without triumph or gloating—he just did it.
Now as he watched his family and listened to the children argue, he was as calm and relaxed as Violet had ever seen him. Here, in this place, Ian Mackenzie had found happiness.
In the morning, the entire family turned out to see Violet and her first riding lesson, including all the dogs. The Mackenzies were surrounded by dogs at all times, she’d learned, even in the town houses of London. One called Old Ben, she’d been told—the duke’s dog—had sadly passed a few years ago, but two more dogs, Venus and Mars, both springer spaniels, had joined the family since then.
All six now wandered among the children, the younger dogs taking interest in the proceedings, the older ones seeking out warm places to lie down. Angelo, the Romany man who was in charge of Cameron’s stables, led out a horse Violet supposed wasn’t any larger than any other horse. The mare’s legs were long and her back broad, and her mane was snaking out of its row of little braids.
The horse was saddled with a man’s saddle, not a prim sidesaddle. Violet had dressed in a riding habit and hat Ainsley had lent her. The habit’s skirt was narrow, not made for riding astride.
When Daniel came out of the stables wearing tight-fitting breeches and boots—no kilt in sight—Violet stared in surprise.
“Am I riding or are you?” she asked.
“Both of us, love. Medusa’s big enough to hold two.”
“I believed I was to have a lesson.” Violet didn’t really care about whatever arrangement they’d made, because the sight of Daniel’s thighs outlined by the close-fitting breeches had made all thought cease.
“Your first ride shouldn’t scare you off it,” Daniel said. “You and me will have a nice, pleasant saunter, and you’ll get used to feeling a horse under you. Tomorrow, we fit you up with a saddle and show you how to sit.”
Angelo boosted Daniel onto the horse’s back. Daniel looked very English in his black coat and tall hat, his feet in polished boots resting quietly in the stirrups.
Angelo caught Violet around the waist and lifted her onto the horse in front of Daniel. Violet was seated on the pommel, sidesaddle, Daniel’s arms coming around her to take up the reins. His body cut the wind, which was still knifelike with winter.
The family waved them off. The horse, in spite of her fearsome Gorgon name, moved placidly along the path that led from the stable yard down to the canal. One of the newer dogs, Mars, followed, ignoring Daniel’s admonishment that he remain behind.
Violet looked down past her boots and the horse’s formidable shoulder to the grasses passing far below. “We’re an awfully long way from the ground.”
Daniel chuckled behind her. “This from a woman who ascended more than a thousand feet in a balloon.”
“That was different. A balloon isn’t a live animal. How can she hold us?”
“By weighing fifteen hundred pounds and being mighty strong. We’re nothing to her. Give her a pat. She likes that.”
Violet reached down and tentatively stroked the mare’s neck under her mane. Medusa was warm, her coat shaggy with winter growth. She shook her head a little and walked faster.
“She likes you,” Daniel said. “Again.”
Violet patted her. “Nice horse. Nice Medusa.”
Medusa’s head bobbed, and she made a low noise in her throat.
“See that?” Daniel transferred the reins to one hand and closed his other arm about Violet’s waist. “We’ll make you a horsewoman yet.”
Daniel turned them onto the towpath that ran alongside the canal. Even in the cold, canal boats moved west, large horses pulling the barges. A few barges were steam driven, but most still had horses.
This was the Kennet and Avon Canal, Ainsley had told her, which nearly a hundred years ago had carried tons of goods from the Thames at Maidenhead to the Avon. Trains had made the slow canal boats a less desirable method of trans
porting cargo, but boats still ran.
Daniel said cheerful hellos to the men leading the barge horses, tipping his hat as he rode past.
“Now then, Young Master Mackenzie,” one called. “How does your father do?” Mars ran among them, seeking pats from bargemen’s children, before he loped after Daniel and Violet again.
The boats dropped behind. Daniel rode across a bridge over one of the canal’s locks and south, winding into more remote country. Hedgerows separated fields, and the roads between the hedges dipped, shutting out everything but green walls and sky.
Daniel navigated Medusa along a meadow path until they reached a little copse under the ledge of a hill. The copse cut the wind, which had prevented them speaking much since they’d left the canal.
“The other reason I wanted to ride out here with you was to be alone with you,” Daniel said. “I love my family, but every time ye turn about, there’s another one tugging at your sleeve.”
“I like it,” Violet said. The way the Mackenzies included her in everything had unclenched something inside her she hadn’t realized was tight.
“Aye, but there’s no privacy.”
Daniel slid his feet from the stirrups, but he made no move to dismount. Medusa stretched her neck toward the nearest tree, tearing off a clump of foliage between large teeth. Mars trotted off to investigate something in the brush.
“I thought ye might not want them all listening in when I told you a few things,” Daniel said. “I had some telegrams this morning, answers to inquiries I’d made.”
Violet froze in the act of patting Medusa again and turned to look at him. Daniel’s eyes were quiet, all teasing gone. “What inquiries?” Violet asked sharply.
“About Jacobi.” Daniel paused. “I found him, Vi. He’s still alive, and in Paris.”
Chapter 26
Daniel watched Violet stiffen, the contented light vanishing from her eyes. “What do you mean, you found him?”
Wicked Deeds of Daniel Mackenzie Page 30