Violet had instructed that for their Marseille sojourn they’d meet back at the boardinghouse, unless that had been compromised. But it hadn’t, thanks to Violet insisting on not using Monsieur Lanier’s private conveyance. They’d have a warm place to sleep tonight. Small mercies.
Violet thrust her shaking arms into her coat sleeves. She wanted to run, run, back to her tiny room to curl around herself and weep. Instead, she dragged in a breath and started down the street, moving at a brisk walk.
When she judged herself far enough from the Lanier house, she ducked into a darker passage and jerked off the veils, which she stuffed into her coat pocket. They were so gauzy they rolled up almost into nothing. Violet smoothed her hair and settled her coat, ready to be the young woman walking home from work again.
But before she could take a step, her heart began pounding sickeningly fast, and bile rose in her throat. Reaction.
Violet feared she’d have to stop and heave up her small dinner against the wall. She hugged her arms over her chest, willing herself to breathe normally, but sobs came regardless, the small sounds of them loud in the darkness.
Think of Daniel.
The thought sailed into her head as though one of her mother’s spirits had spoken it to her. Think of Daniel.
The comforting weight of him as he’d kissed her in the high bed, the way the wind had tugged his hair as he’d frantically tried to steer the balloon. Daniel’s shirt sticking to his damp torso, the black tattoo that curled around his tanned arm. Violet thought of the comfort of his hand in hers as they rode away from the village in the cart, then his ridiculous romantic farce of clinging to the side of his carriage and waving at her after he’d said good night last night.
Violet’s knot of terror began to loosen. Yesterday morning in the inn, as she’d eaten a brioche with fresh butter, she’d watched Daniel shave himself. He’d lathered his face with the soap and brush the innkeeper had brought him then carefully scraped at his cheeks, watching himself in the small, dark mirror above the washstand.
So cozy and intimate they’d been, Daniel shaving without embarrassment while Violet breakfasted a few feet away. The bed behind them had been rumpled from their sleep, as though they’d been husband and wife in truth.
Violet’s fear faded still more. She drew a long, cleansing breath and moved out from the passage, fancying she could still hear Daniel’s laughter.
No, she did hear it. This was a fashionable part of town, the street she emerged into lined with restaurants and cafés. A knot of young men and women stood near the entrance of one of the restaurants, either coming out or going in, Violet couldn’t say.
Daniel was with them. He wore a greatcoat and high silk hat like the others, but his kilt set him apart, as did his broad frame and his deep, booming laughter.
The men with Daniel were in their twenties or early thirties, she judged, his friends and cronies. The ladies who accompanied them glittered. They wore frocks of blue, green, gold, silver, the bodices daringly cut, delicate skin protected from the cold with furs. Diamonds sparkled on bosoms and hair, cheeks were rouged, hair crowned with feathers. Long gloves hid slim arms but showed off bejeweled bracelets.
These were not the shy, young debutantes of society; they were courtesans.
As Violet watched, the red-haired lady next to Daniel wound her fingers around his arm and ran her other hand up his back to his shoulder. Daniel turned to laugh down at her, the smile on his face full of warmth.
Violet’s heart squeezed so hard she had to put her fist to her chest. She ducked back into the shadows, but Daniel never turned, never saw her.
Not for you, a voice inside her head said. Not for you.
Violet watched numbly as the group turned from the restaurant and sought waiting coaches. Daniel helped the red-haired woman up into his carriage with the same gallantry he’d used to assist Violet. He removed his hat as he stepped into the coach with the woman, followed by another gentleman and lady.
The other men and women swarmed into the rest of the carriages, but Violet scarcely noted them. Her gaze was all for Daniel, his broad arm that rested against the window, the flash of his face as he threw back his head and laughed at something.
The carriages jerked forward, moving off in the direction of theatres and cabarets.
Violet remained in place until they’d rumbled well away. She tried to force herself to stand upright, to leave the shelter of the passage to continue her way home.
She ended up against the dirty wall, half doubled over, her fists balled into her stomach. Sobs wracked her body, and tears streamed down her face.
Violet cried as her heart broke, the warmth of her night with Daniel dissolving before the heat in his eyes as he’d smiled at the courtesan.
Daniel was happy to see Richard Mason, an old university mate with a brilliant mind, but Daniel hated watching the man waste that brilliant mind on drink and sexual diversions.
The women Richard had brought for Daniel and his other friends were charming but they had nothing in their eyes. Before meeting Violet, Daniel would have happily dallied the night away with one or two of them, wallowing in a warm bed and all kinds of debauchery. Why not? Bodily pleasures must be sated or they distracted him too much. At least, that was his excuse.
But now Daniel had met Violet.
The looks the ladies gave him contained too much avarice. Daniel was rich, and they wanted him to move some of his money from his pocket to theirs.
He’d seen such sentiment all too often in the women his father used to bring home, and he wasn’t much interested tonight. Nor was Daniel interested in sating himself while remaining detached. Not appealing. Not after Violet.
He’d tried to call on her earlier this evening, but the prim landlady had informed him Violet and her mother had gone out. No, she didn’t know where, and it was their business, wasn’t it? Daniel had thanked her and departed.
In Richard’s carriage on their way to a cabaret, Daniel feigned exhaustion from his long balloon flight, mention of which brought boredom to the ladies’ eyes. Daniel contrasted this with the glowing excitement in Violet’s as they’d soared across the countryside.
When Daniel said he’d return alone to his hotel, Richard expressed genuine sorrow to lose Daniel’s company tonight. Daniel silently vowed to spend more time with the man. Richard needed true friends.
Daniel said good night to them in front of the cabaret, slipping a thick wad of banknotes into the hand of the red-haired courtesan to ease the sting of his leaving her. Her disappointment lessened considerably.
Richard and his ladies would be surprised to learn that after they entered the cabaret, Daniel left the glittering hotels, restaurants, theatres, and illicit casinos of the city to walk to a more frumpy side of town, replete with boardinghouses and shops for the poor but respectable.
More surprised to watch him stop across the street from one particular boardinghouse, step into the shadows of a closed shop’s doorway, and look up at the soft glow of a window opposite.
Daniel waited there until he saw the glow go out, then he kissed his fingertips toward the window and walked away.
Back on the glittering side of town, he entered his hotel room, truly tired now. Every lamp had been lit in the parlor of his suite, in anticipation of Daniel’s return, including the multiarmed gas chandelier and a host of wall sconces.
All these provided bright illumination for the figure of the girl child lying fast asleep on the scrolled French sofa, she curled up around herself, her red gold curls tumbling over her cheeks.
Chapter 14
Daniel stifled his dismay at the sight of the little girl. He lifted a throw from the armchair and draped it carefully over her. With any luck she’d continue sleeping.
The girl’s eyes popped open, gray and full of mischief that matched her mother’s—both the color and the mischief. She squea
led in delight and sat up straight. “Danny!” she shouted in a voice that would wake half the hotel. “I waited for you!”
Daniel retrieved the throw from the floor and wrapped it around her again. “I see that, mite. What are you doing here? If you’ve run away from home again, your mum’s going to scold both of us something bad.”
“I didn’t run away.” Gavina Mackenzie smoothed her hair in a very grown-up gesture. “Only down the stairs. We’re staying in your hotel. Isn’t that grand, Danny?”
“Staying here? Who is?”
“All of us. Mum and Dad. And me. Stuart is with Aunt Eleanor, because he’s too little to travel all this way.” Gavina looked very pleased with herself that she at seven was more grown up than her four-and-a-half-year-old baby brother. “Mummy said we should stay here and surprise you.”
Daniel pressed his hands to his chest. “Consider me surprised.”
And a bit annoyed. Daniel loved his family, but the collective lot of them could never mind their own bloody business. Obviously Daniel’s stepmother Ainsley had dragged out of Ian where Daniel had gone and decided to rush off to France to find out what he was up to.
A tap at the door was followed by Ainsley Mackenzie herself. She was dressed for evening in a gray silk trimmed with maroon lace, her shoulders bare over small puffed sleeves. Tiny diamonds sparkled in her hair and at her throat—Richard’s courtesans in contrast had coated themselves with the things.
Ainsley had fair hair, which she’d dressed in the latest fashion, but somehow Ainsley never looked overdone or artificial. The spirit of her shone through, and Daniel regarded her fondly. She was the woman who’d rescued his father.
“Hello, Danny. I saw you come in.” Ainsley enclosed him in a lemon-scented hug. “Gavina wanted to wait in here for you. I forbade her, but I see she managed to get here anyway.”
“Without a key,” Daniel said. “What have you been teaching her, Stepmama?” In addition to her womanly charms, Ainsley was also an excellent picklock.
“The maid let me in,” Gavina said. “I said I was your sister and gave her a coin.”
She was learning young. Daniel leaned down and lifted Gavina into his arms. She was growing tall and strong.
“You haven’t answered the question, either of you,” Daniel growled. “Why are you here, Stepmama, and not in London helping Aunt Isabella run the Season? Or preparing to go to Berkshire for the training?” Ainsley and Daniel’s father moved to Berkshire every year so Cameron could prepare his horses for the racing season. The entire Mackenzie family would descend upon them there later in the spring, as per tradition.
Ainsley gave Daniel a little frown. “I was worried about you, Danny. I heard you were done over by louts and left in the gutter. But you never said a word.” Ainsley touched Daniel’s cheek where the bruises were still fading, covered by new ones from the rough balloon landing. “What happened to you?”
“Nothing interesting. Uncle Ian peached on me, did he?”
“Ian?” Ainsley’s eyes widened. “You don’t believe I could pry anything from Ian Mackenzie he didn’t want me to know, do you? No, I pried it out of Beth. She’s worried about you as well.”
“And she told you I’d gone to Marseille,” Daniel said guardedly, while Gavina watched from the safety of Daniel’s arms. It was midnight, and the girl didn’t look tired at all.
“Beth didn’t know why,” Ainsley said. “Are you in another scrape?”
Daniel couldn’t help his laugh. “I haven’t been in a scrape since university. I gave them up. My friend Richard Mason is here, and I’ve been spending some hours with him.” Not a lie.
“Ah yes, the young man you’re worried is wasting away in debauchery. I have no doubt you’ll set him straight. You’re good at that sort of thing. I did hear you went off ballooning and wrecked the thing. Don’t look so surprised. Word travels, especially among the English abroad.” Ainsley gave him a knowing smile. “And I heard a young lady was with you when you crashed. I see she is not with you now. She must have decided being in your company was too fraught with danger.”
“Something like that.”
“Probably for the best.” Ainsley reached for Gavina, and her daughter readily wrapped arms around her. “If a lady cannot keep up with a gentleman she chooses to pursue, she has no business pursuing him. I ought to know. That’s how I ended up with your father.”
Ainsley had proved she definitely could keep up with Cameron, much to Cameron’s surprise. The man who’d shut love out of his life had not been able to shut out Ainsley.
“It’s lucky you’re here,” Ainsley went on. “My friend Leonie is having a grand ball at her house tomorrow evening. We’re attending, and she would love to see you there.”
Daniel stifled a groan. Leonie was the Comtesse de Chenault, who’d become Ainsley’s friend when Ainsley worked for Queen Victoria. She was wealthy, influential, and had a large house outside of Marseille to which the fashionable flocked. “I can guess what for. It’s bad enough Aunt Eleanor and Aunt Isabella are thrusting debutantes at me right and left, but I thought you had more heart. Don’t tell me you’re joining their schemes to get me shackled.”
Ainsley blinked in innocence. “I said nothing about debutantes. Did you hear the word debutante come out of my mouth?”
“But that is who attends grand balls given by comtesses, isn’t it? Debutantes, pushed forward by their mamas with an enthusiasm that’s chilling to see. Why this rush to marry me off? Eleanor’s two boys and Dad stand between me and the ducal throne, and they’re all healthy, thank God.”
“We aren’t thinking about heirs,” Ainsley said, looking indignant. “We want you to be happy, Danny. To be settled.”
“To me, happy and settled are not the same thing. Give me a bit more life first, and tell Isabella and Eleanor to stop throwing insipid eighteen-year-olds at me.”
“Eighteen?” Gavina broke in. “That’s old. You should get married, Danny, and have babies so I can play with them.”
Ainsley gave her daughter an admonishing look and went on, “You know I am the last woman in the world to tell you not to follow your heart. But how do you know you’ll not find a young lady to steal that heart if you never let yourself go near them? You have to try, you know. Will you at least come with us to the ball?”
She met his gaze, something hopeful in her gray eyes. Though Ainsley didn’t condone Eleanor and Isabella coercing Daniel to every soiree, ball, supper party, and boating party rife with eligible young misses, Daniel knew she shared his aunts’ wishes to see him wed. She wanted Daniel to have a happy marriage and children of his own. To begin right, to erase the fact that Daniel’s growing up had been hard on him.
This was important to her, and Ainsley was important to Daniel. She’d made their broken family whole again.
“Aye, very well,” Daniel said, resigned. “I’ll go.”
“Thank you.” Ainsley pulled Daniel into another hug, her arms still full of Gavina, who at last was starting to look a little weary. “Good night, Danny. We’ll see you at breakfast.”
She and Gavina departed, both looking happy, and Daniel closed the door behind them.
He sighed as he stripped off his coat and cravat. He’d told Simon not to wait up for him, so he had the rooms to himself now, as long as Gavina didn’t sneak back in. No saying she wouldn’t pretend to fall asleep in bed and then be right back down here.
Daniel poured himself a large measure of whiskey and wandered into his bedroom, his thoughts mixed.
He’d go to the bloody grand ball and be civil. He wouldn’t marry any of the girls the comtesse shoved at him, but he could be polite.
Daniel knew the ball would not introduce him to a wife, because when he thought about breezing into a home filled with his inventions, dogs, and small children, it was Violet Daniel saw, with startling clarity, lifting her head to give Daniel a we
lcoming and loving smile.
“Miss,” Mary said, coming into Violet’s darkened room where she lay in bed. “Ain’t ye going to get up, miss?”
“Why?” Violet asked, listless.
She’d been here dozing on and off throughout the afternoon. Her terror at the hands of Lanier, followed by the emotional jolt of seeing Daniel with a lover, had given her another sleepless night. This morning Violet had lapsed into a stupor that was not quite sleep, leaving her groggy and unwilling to rise.
“Your mum’s worried about you,” Mary said. “And we have another job tonight.”
Violet sank further into the pillows, giving in to lethargy. “Why?” she repeated.
“Monsieur Lanier stiffed us most of the fee, didn’t he? Your mum is so tired after last night, and we need coin, you know we do.”
Violet lay still, while sorrow and exhaustion spilled over her. “What job?”
“Fortune-teller for a fashionable party.”
Violet let out a long sigh. That meant Violet dressing up as a Romany and sitting at a table for hours, telling giggling young women they’d marry tall, handsome men and have many prosperous children. Violet had a knack for palm reading, so any call for a traditional fortune-teller was down to her.
Celine didn’t believe in fortune-telling, in any case. She considered palm reading, card reading, or crystal gazing the height of nonsense. The spirits communicate directly through me—when they wish to, she’d say. I can’t call them with cards or by looking at the lines on someone’s hand. They scoff at that.
However, Celine was not averse to Violet earning some coin by her skill. As attached to the spirit world as she was, Celine did have a practical side.
“I can’t,” Violet said, barely able to utter the words. “Mary, I just can’t. I’m so tired.”
“But we need the money, miss.”
“I think we should leave here,” Violet murmured wearily. “Go somewhere we’ve never been before.” Somewhere Daniel and his fashionable friends were not likely to follow. “Canada, perhaps. I’ve heard Montreal is a fine city. We can speak French there.”