The Wicked Deeds of Daniel Mackenzie (31 page)

“Oh, I’m wooing you for an entirely different reason. The fact that you can build intricate machines is a separate blessing.”

Violet imagined any other lady growing offended at his words. Lady Victoria, the debutante who’d clung so tightly to Daniel in Marseille, would have walked off in a huff. Violet only wanted to laugh.

Daniel came around the engine to her, his arm stealing around her waist. “Say you’ll help me, Vi. I want this done for the time trials in Paris, and I want you by my side when we win them.”

Violet could never think properly when Daniel was close to her. He was warm in the cold of this shut-up dusty house, with its treasure in the back parlor. When he was near her, she wanted to do anything for him, be anything for him.

And to kiss him. She rose on her tiptoes, sliding up his body, and kissed his lips. Daniel was still angry with her, she saw that under his teasing, but she couldn’t stay away from him.

Daniel’s mouth was stiff, his whiskers rough under her lips. He returned the pressure but without his usual heat.

Violet kissed him again. Daniel made a surrendering noise in his throat, and this time, his answering kiss was fierce. He crushed her up to him, his broad hand forming to her backside.

Violet slid her hands up his back, wishing the thick greatcoat and the clothes beneath were gone. Touching his skin in the hotel in Marseille had been heady, licking sweet chocolate from it had been heaven itself. What they’d done in his small apartment, with his papers crinkling under her on the sofa, had sent her to madness.

She wanted the fire of his mouth on her opening again, the touch that had spiraled her to joy. That madness had held no pain, only the sensation of soaring free.

I need you with me every moment, Daniel Mackenzie. And it terrifies me.

Violet never heard the footstep through the roaring in her ears, but she became aware of a
presence
in the room. She broke the kiss and stepped back.

Daniel looked at Violet in puzzlement, brows drawn, his attention all for her. Then he lifted his head and saw the man in a greatcoat standing next to the motorcar, running a gloved finger over the cylinder block.

“Uncle Ian.”

Daniel’s words were a greeting, but the man didn’t turn around.

Daniel didn’t seem bothered by the abrupt appearance of his uncle. Ian didn’t look at Daniel but continued gazing at the motorcar and its configuration of gears as though he saw and understood every nuance.

“Well?” Daniel asked. “Have I got it?”

Ian turned his head slowly, finally looking straight at Daniel. He had golden eyes, lighter than Daniel’s, and as penetrating as a hawk’s. “Yes,” he said.

Chapter 25

Daniel went to Ian and clapped him on the shoulder then quickly removed his hand as though worried how his uncle would react to his touch. “Thank you.”

Violet wasn’t sure what the exchange meant, but Daniel was beaming. “Violet, come and meet my uncle Ian. The most maddening man in the world.”

Violet didn’t understand that either, but she stepped forward and held out her hand. “Pleased to meet you, my lord.”

Lord Ian Mackenzie was tall, like the other Mackenzies she’d met, and broad of shoulder, with dark red hair. But he was different from the others as well. While he shared the restless energy she’d seen in Daniel and Cameron, Ian channeled his into a focus that was more intense even than Daniel’s.

Ian remained motionless for a moment or two, then he clasped Violet’s hand as though he had to remember the correct response to the gesture. Ian’s grip was plenty strong, though, no hesitation or shyness.

He withdrew his hand with the same slow deliberation and remained standing in front of Violet. Ian’s gaze met hers fleetingly, then moved past, but Violet knew she was still the subject of his attention.

There was a stillness about him Violet hadn’t seen in Daniel, a calm he’d found, but she sensed it had come only after a long struggle. Ian was not a man who would be effusive, she decided, but not because he had nothing to say. Violet saw behind the amber eyes thoughts from the fleeting to the most profound, chasing one after the other.

“She was worth finding, don’t you think?” Daniel asked Ian. “I am forever in your debt.”

Ian again met Violet’s gaze very briefly then turned back to the motorcar. “Worth finding,” Ian said. “But easy to find.”

Daniel rolled his eyes. “Easy, he says. All I had to go on was a false name and that you vanished from Mortimer’s house in the middle of the night. Oh, certainly. I should have found you in a trice.”

Ian’s answering words came out in a monotone, each one the same speed and emphasis. “Names are not important. You asked me to look for one middle-aged woman, one young woman, and one maidservant. Five such parties purchased tickets on trains from London on that night. Two went west to Somerset and Dorset and to middle-class homes and families. One went north to Leeds—a cook, a lady’s maid, and a maidservant to work in a house. Two parties went to the Continent. One went north. They spoke Dutch and the mother and daughter were leading members of their church. The final set went to Marseille. A few days after they arrived, advertisements for the Countess Melikova and Princess Ivanova went up in the streets. You told me they worked as mediums, and Countess Melikova was billed as a clairvoyant. Simple.”

Violet listened to his speech, eyes widening. “Good heavens, how did you know where all those people went and that they bought tickets, and so forth? And that they spoke Dutch?”

“Telegrams,” Ian said.

“Add to that the fact that Uncle Ian knows everyone in Great Britain and half of France,” Daniel said. “The one thing he stated in all that was the most interesting bit:
Names are not important.
Ian looked for the people, not the names. Names, as you know, are so easily changed.”

Violet’s face warmed. “So I have heard.”

Daniel shot her a grin. “This means you’ll never be safe from me, Vi. No matter how far or fast you run, I’ll find you. I will tear apart the world looking for you. I guarantee that.”

The intensity of his look made Violet shiver. He meant it.

Ian had lost interest in them. He gave the motorcar one last look, then he walked out of the room to the hall. “Beth is waiting,” he said over his shoulder.

“And that is that,” Daniel said. He held out his arm to Violet. “Time to go, love. Welcome to my crazy family.”

They stayed in London three days. During that time, Daniel watched Violet relax, little by little, into the bosom of the Mackenzie family.

His choice of having her stay with Ian and Beth had been wise. Violet would have remained quiet and withdrawn against the power of Hart, and even against the exuberance of Isabella and Mac. Violet’s mother withstood Hart, Daniel saw, because she was so absorbed in her own world that she didn’t notice him. The way Hart’s stern power bounced off Celine was a delight to watch.

Beth, of all the Mackenzie ladies, had grown up a pauper, in the rougher areas of London, which gave her something in common with Violet. They’d both struggled to survive and had suffered cruelty. Daniel caught Violet and Beth once or twice in deep, serious conversation, which broke off when Daniel entered the room. And then they’d look mysterious—or worse, laugh.

Daniel used the time in London to run errands and get his motorcar taken apart and packed into crates. Simon, who’d arrived a day after Daniel with the rest of the baggage, kept a watchful eye on things. Once Daniel was certain his engine was safely away to Berkshire, to be met by Cameron’s trusted man, Angelo, Daniel turned his attention to his most important errand.

He visited Mr. Sutton in his Park Lane home, this time sending word ahead for an appointment. When he arrived, the thin, spare Mr. Sutton saw him in the same quietly luxurious study that Daniel had been ushered to before.

Daniel had decided after debating with himself not to use Ian’s skills for this matter. The way could grow dangerous, and Ian wouldn’t bother to hide what he was doing. Ian could take care of himself, but Beth would never forgive Daniel for putting Ian in any kind of danger.

Sutton waited for Daniel to seat himself before he began, without preliminary. “I see in your eyes again that what you want me to do is about a woman. I believe I made clear that I have no interest in domestic troubles.”

“The man I want found is a criminal,” Daniel said. He accepted brandy from Sutton’s butler and sipped it, reflecting that it was some of the best he’d tasted. “A Frenchman by the name of Jacobi Ferrand. He might be dead; he might not. I don’t know.”

“Then go to the police. In France, preferably.”

“The crime was a long time ago. And yes, it involved a woman. I mean to make him pay for what he did.”

Sutton heaved a little sigh, which barely moved his body. His eyes, on the other hand, were ice cold. “Revenge is a waste of time, Mr. Mackenzie. Trust me. Be knight-errant to your woman another way.”

“I intend to pay you handsomely for the information.”

“No doubt. But it’s a fool’s game. I want no part of it.”

Daniel sat back and took another sip of brandy. “I’ll have to convince you, then. She isn’t just any woman. She’s different.”

“So every man has said since time immemorial.”

“Yes, that’s true. I’ve met plenty of women, Mr. Sutton. From a young age, I have had mistresses whose beauty and skills would astound you. Skills they taught to a young man, because I was ever so rich. I also got to know them—courtesans are living, breathing women, you might be surprised to learn. With dreams and ambitions, some longing for a better life, one in which they won’t have to rely on wealthy men’s sons for survival. I became quite good friends with some of the ladies and am still. And then I met Violet.”

Mr. Sutton was listening but striving to look uninterested. “Another courtesan?”

“She’s neither one thing nor the other. Which is why I say she’s different. She’s not from the upper-class families whose mothers throw their daughters at me with alarming ruthlessness. She’s not a courtesan, selling her body and skills in exchange for diamonds and riches. She’s not a street girl from the gutter, selling her body to survive. She’s not a middle-class daughter, striving to live spotlessly and not shame her parents. Violet faces the world on her own terms, making a living the best she can with the skills she has. And everywhere, everyone has tried to stop her. They’ve used her body to pay their debts. They’ve used her cleverness to bring them clients. They’ve used her skills at understanding people to make them money. Everyone in her entire life has used her in every capacity she has, and yet, she still stands tall and faces the world. They’ve beaten her down at every turn, and still she rises. This is a woman of indomitable spirit. And I want to set her free.”

Sutton watched him in silence a moment. “A nice speech, Mr. Mackenzie. You mean you want this woman for yourself.”

“Aye, I do. And I intend to persuade her as hard as I can to stay with me. But first, I need to find this Jacobi and get her free of him—if she is indeed still bound to him. He might be dead. He might have annulled the marriage and remarried. The vengeance part of it, I’ll deal with on my own. I only need you to find him and discover whether his marriage to Violet is legal.”

“And if it is?” Sutton looked more interested now.

“Then I go in with my barrage of solicitors and make it un-legal. Annulment, divorce, whatever it takes. I have plenty of money at my disposal and have many friends in the legal profession in both France and Britain. I don’t anticipate a problem.”

“You have the optimism of the young,” Sutton said. “Anything you want, you reach out and take.”

“It’s a besetting sin of the family. Uncle Hart had his own personal brothel at my age, where he trained ladies in the art of exquisite pleasure.
He
trained
them
, not the other way around, the pompous bastard. Dad had his own racing stable, Uncle Mac was already a celebrated artist with a scandalous marriage. I’m a bit late in the proceedings for a Mackenzie.”

“Yes, the famous Mackenzies. I never let my name near the scandal sheets, Mr. Mackenzie. I don’t like people knowing my business. If I find this Jacobi Ferrand, for a little more money, I can make sure you never know what happened to him. No scandal sheets. His name will never be mentioned. But your woman will be free for you to marry or whatever you intend to do with her.”

“I intend to take her ballooning over Scotland. But never mind assassinating him. Just find the man, and I’ll do the rest.”

Sutton gave Daniel a nod. “If you make a mess, or it gets into the newspapers, it will have nothing to do with me. Understand?”

Daniel took one last sip of brandy and rose. He stuck his hand out to Sutton over the desk. “I understand perfectly. News will reach me in Berkshire for the next few weeks, and then Paris at the Grande Hotel. I hope to hear from you before then.”

Sutton closed Daniel’s hand in a strong grip. “I’m sure the journey will be profitable all the way around. Give Mr. Simon my regards.”

Daniel nodded as he released Sutton’s hand, finally seeing a glimmer of respect in Sutton’s eyes. Daniel thanked him again, and departed to put other things in motion.