The Wicked Deeds of Daniel Mackenzie (29 page)

“And then what? Crash me to the ground again? It’s what gentlemen do to ladies when they’re finished with them.”

“And I so love the way you try to turn me into a villain every time. Makes me angry, that does. But if I say I’m going to show you everything in life you missed, I mean it. I’m not Jacobi, or a man who thinks it just to use a girl’s innocence as payment. And I’m not the marks you play upon to fleece. I don’t care about your parlor tricks, or your phosphor-luminescent paint, or your fake talking boards. I’m going to show you real life. Real joy. Whether you like it or not, whether you believe it or not. No, don’t agree or disagree right now. It doesn’t matter.”

“It doesn’t matter what I think?” Violet’s pride was back.

“No, it doesn’t.” Daniel straightened up, feeling his smile return. “It only matters what
I
think right now. You’ve put yourself into my hands, love, and I’m going to show you the world. The way you’re supposed to see it.” He reached down and pulled her to her feet. “But right now, you’re going to sleep. Because when we reach our destination, no more rest for you. And no more looking after everyone. I’m going to look after you now, and that’s all there is to that.”

Violet came against him, the onyx on the bodice sharp under his hands. She looked up at him, a storm in her eyes, her body rigid.

Daniel kissed her. Violet’s lips shook, but she kissed him back, her mouth softening a little under his. Daniel cupped the back of her neck and let the kiss become thorough.

When he drew back, Violet looked up at him with eyes filled with despair but also desire. She’d hurt so much, lost so much. Daniel wanted her with an intensity that nearly crushed him. When they finally came together, the world would shake apart.

But for now, they were in his father’s private train car, with his stepmother and baby sister in the bedrooms in the back, not to mention Violet’s mother. His father would soon stroll back from the smoking car or wherever he’d been to join Ainsley. He didn’t like to be without her for long.

And Violet truly needed to rest. She was drooping, exhausted, too pale. Daniel kissed her lips again, then made her walk with him into the back to an empty bedroom. He kissed her good night at the doorway, Violet’s eyes still full of fear and longing.

Violet shut the door herself, cutting off temptation from either of them. Daniel exited the car and made his way to the platform on the back. There he smoked cigarettes until the frigid winter wind calmed him enough to let him go back inside.

They changed trains in Paris early the next morning, without pausing to sample the pleasures of the city. The new Tour Eiffel dominated the skyline with its steel girders crisscrossed like lace against the morning sky.

Violet hadn’t been to Paris except to change trains since the tower had been built. She gazed at the tower with longing, wanting to go to its very top. Maybe someday. She felt a momentary frisson of delight when she realized that in the balloon she’d ascended even higher.

For now, Violet was happy to move on from Paris, though England was not necessarily where she wanted to go. But they would be staying in Berkshire, Daniel said, a long way from London and her problems there.

Daniel had told her she had to stop running away, but he couldn’t imagine the sorts of things Violet had run from. Daniel had always had a secure life, a caring family.

Daniel’s early life might have been lonely, but watching Lord Cameron with him, Violet could see the man loved Daniel with everything he had in him. Even if Cameron hadn’t known what to do with the energetic Daniel as a boy, he’d never entirely deserted him. That Daniel had been energetic, Violet had no doubt.

Daniel was still energetic. He helped his father direct everything as they changed trains to move on to Calais, and made certain Mary and his parents’ servants were comfortable in their compartments. He helped look after Gavina, taking his little sister around the train when the journey grew dull, keeping her busy. And the whole while, he talked; with his father about sport; with his sister, interesting things they saw out the windows; with his stepmother, music, plays, fashion, and interestingly, cake.

Ainsley had lent Violet some clothes so she could remove her stolen costume and pack it away. What Mary had managed to carry off was mostly their stage accoutrements and a change of clothing for Celine, but nothing for Violet.

Ainsley seemed to think nothing of lending Violet a walking dress and two or three day dresses—for the time being, she said. They would of course go shopping for Violet when they reached England.

Ainsley’s kindness was without artifice, tinged with friendly understanding, and easy to take. Another new sensation for Violet.

Daniel never said a word to Violet about their argument. He didn’t keep his distance from her, but he didn’t try to be private with her either. Daniel included her and Celine in all the conversations, talking easily but neutrally as the train ran on into Calais, where they’d spend the night. He was cheerful at the restaurant where they took a meal, bade Violet a polite good night at their hotel, and retreated to a lounge with his father.

Not until they were on the boat crossing the tossing Channel the next day did Daniel seek out Violet alone.

Violet hung on to the rail in the bow of the ferry, looking forward, the rumbling of the boat’s huge engine somehow soothing. Celine, who hated boats, had stayed in their cabin with Mary. On her way above, Violet had glimpsed Lord Cameron, his wife, his daughter, and Daniel in the parlor for first-class passengers. Instead of stopping to join them, she’d come out here to be alone with her thoughts. The cold wind kept most passengers below, so Violet had the deck to herself.

She watched, mesmerized, as the gray water tossed white foam under the bow. The sea was ever changing, yet always there, tons of water somehow adhering fast to the planet. The bow wave surged and broke, surged and broke, but never stopped the boat, which kept plunging onward.

Warmth came behind her. Daniel brought his arms around either side of her to rest his gloved hands on the rail. “I couldn’t stay away from you,” he said, his breath in her ear. “Seeing you out here with your face to the wind, the courage of you, looking straight ahead into whatever comes.”

“It isn’t courage,” Violet said. “The smoke from the engines is too thick in the stern.”

“Don’t ruin the image, love. And I’m not wrong. You aren’t staring backward—smoke and all—at the retreating shore of France. You’re watching England rush at you, your home, come what may.”

Daniel brushed his lips to her cheek, sweet heat. Violet didn’t dare turn her head, didn’t dare kiss him back. Because once she took hold of Daniel, she’d never want to let him go.

“What is Berkshire like?” she asked.

“It’s a fine place, as far as England goes. Scotland is, of course, much better. But in Berkshire there’s enough flat to train the horses, plus it’s not far to take them to Newmarket and Ascot when it’s time. And there are miles of roads, which I need for my motorcar. Spring is beautiful there—little flowers poking up in the green, lambs in the fields, the aristos rushing to London for the Season, leaving the countryside blissfully quiet. Perfect.”

Violet had lived so much in cities, with cobblestones beneath her boots, that she’d never experienced a country spring. In the cities, spring happened only in gardens. If those gardens were open to the public, Violet saw the spring. If not, she kept to gray streets and gray skies. “I look forward to seeing it.”

Daniel pressed his cheek to hers. “I’m looking forward to showing it to you. London first, though. For a few days.”

Violet jerked. “London? I thought we were only changing trains there and going on.”

“Ainsley said at breakfast that we needed to stop, and she’s right. If we go racing through without pausing to pass the time of day with my Aunt Isabella, our life won’t be worth living. She’s queen of the London Season, she is. Uncle Mac takes it all in his stride, jollies her along. He’s good at turning people up sweet, Isabella likes to say.”

“I thought that was you.” Violet strove not to smile.

“Cheeky lass. I learned it from a master. We’ll have to pay a call, which means Isabella will snare us into attending one of her soirees, which means you’ll be wanting to shop for a frock. I know ladies.”

“I can’t stay in London, Daniel. And I can’t go to a soiree. We ran off owing Mortimer back rent. We’ll be arrested as soon as we’re seen.”

“You’re afraid of
Mortimer
? Don’t be daft. I took care of Mortimer—ye owe him nothing. I bought the house, as a matter of fact. You’re welcome to stay in it if you like. It has all the hidey-holes already for your gadgets. Madame and Mademoiselle Bastien can be back in business.”

Violet turned around fully to stare at him. “What do you mean, you took care of Mortimer? And you bought the
h
ouse
?”

Daniel shrugged. “Property is a good investment, so they say, and I wanted Mortimer to leave you the devil alone. He’s a bloody hypocrite, you know. He
owed half the bookmakers and moneylenders in London, not to mention me. Probably still does. No one should gamble who doesn’t have a head for it.”

Violet’s mouth went dry. Daniel was telling her that instead of going to the police after Violet had assaulted him, he’d decided to buy a house from Mortimer, pay her debts, and look for Violet himself. “You’re a madman.”

“Not really. Mortimer’s an ass, and you’re a beautiful woman with more bravery and spirit than he ever will have. He wanted to use you to pay off his debt, and I’m sick to death of people doing that. Never again.”

Daniel’s determination was palpable, as though he were erecting a wall of it between Violet and the world. Comforting, and a little terrifying. Violet didn’t know how to respond. No one had ever tried to protect her before.

“I was surprised you didn’t want to stop in Paris,” she said. “To find Jacobi.”

“To run up and down the streets of a huge city looking for one man? By myself? Not likely. I have agents to do that for me while I sit comfortably in Berkshire. Or maybe not comfortably. Dad expects me to work, not lounge about, and I have plenty to do.”

Violet wondered what
she
would do, and what Daniel would expect her to do. And did that frighten her? Or excite her?

Daniel closed his arms all the way around her, pulling her into warmth. His lips touched her cheek, then her ear, her hair. Though her thick coat and his kept them apart, Violet felt the beating of his heart, the heat of his body, Daniel’s strength. In the swirling vortex of her life, Daniel was becoming the only solid pillar.

In London, Violet’s uncertainty began to return. She’d supposed she and her mother would arrange some kind of rent with Daniel and move into Mortimer’s former house—although with all that had happened there, Violet would prefer to find a boardinghouse.

Ainsley, on the other hand, assumed they’d stay with the Duke of Kilmorgan.

Violet wanted to jump out of the coach carrying them to the heart of Mayfair and run back to the train station. Ainsley continued explaining as the carriage rolled along, seeing nothing amiss. The duke had a very large house on Grosvenor Square, which had room for everyone for a few days. Of course the guests would stay there.

Celine thought it a fine idea. “A duke,” she said, her eyes alight. “Just imagine, Violet, how very grand. And how kind. I’ll do a reading for him, and the duchess. Gratis, of course.”

“Mama, you will do nothing of the sort,” Violet said hastily.

“Nonsense. Even dukes like to know the news from the other side. And a duke’s house on Grosvenor Square sounds ever so comfortable.”

Violet sent Daniel an appealing look. He had taken the seat next to Ainsley, across from Violet and Celine. Cameron and Gavina had taken a second conveyance, Lord Cameron declaring they’d be fools to all try to fit into one coach. Mary had been given a seat next to the coachman on the first carriage, Cameron and Ainsley’s servants piling onto the second.

Daniel seemed to understand Violet’s dismay. “Ainsley,” he said. “You know Uncle Hart is a frightening thing to spring upon a guest, especially after a long journey. Ian and Beth’s home is very comfortable and much less intimidating. Better for Violet. Mac and Isabella are always full up, and they’re not exactly restful either. If Dad would keep a regular house in London, life would be more convenient, but there it is.”