The Wicked Deeds of Daniel Mackenzie

“Come with it where?”

“Little town about twenty miles from here, down the coast. Have a friend who will let me use his workshop. How about it? Tomorrow?”

The man was maddening. Violet was curious now as to what he was building, and how he just happened to have a friend with a workshop twenty miles down the coast from where Violet was staying. Did he know that the workings of engines and devices fascinated her? How exactly to entice her?

Not being able to read him was a terrible disadvantage. When Daniel spoke of machinery, his eyes lost their predatory look, and his focus changed. That he was interested in her wind machine was plain. And he was right that she didn’t want to let it out of her sight, because it had been expensive to build, and she’d tinkered with it until it did exactly what she wanted.

“I can’t,” Violet said flatly as she strode along. She tried to set a swift pace so he’d grow bored and go away, but Daniel walked along beside her without even breathing hard. “I signed a contract with the concert hall. I have performances to do.”

“Not tomorrow, you don’t. I heard you tell the audience Saturday. Tomorrow is Tuesday. Plenty of time.”

“My mother needs me for her private consultations. The machine is handy then.”

Daniel shrugged, walking close enough to her that she felt the movement. “Make all the consultations for later in the week. I’m right that you handle all the appointments, aren’t I? She’d welcome the rest, I’d wager.”

“Blast you.” Violet clenched both hands now. She wanted to go with him, to see what he was building, to find out what on earth he needed her wind machine for.

But how gullible was she? If Violet went somewhere with this man alone, he could take her anywhere, do anything to her, and Violet could do nothing about it. She was as helpless with him as she’d been with Mortimer.

“Blast me all you want,” Daniel said. “But bring the wind machine. This will be interesting.”

He was so easy, so casual. As though Violet could throw everything to the wind and run off with him, instead of stay in the boardinghouse looking after her mother, doing the accounts, paying the bills, setting appointments. Her life was real life. Daniel’s was . . . a fantasy.

The eager girl in her, the one who’d been interested in life in all its variety, longed to go with him. The woman Violet had become advised caution.

“So it’s arranged,” Daniel said, meeting her gaze. “I’ll call for you tomorrow—with a cab this time, and tickets for the train. I’m not walking all the way to my friend’s workshop.”

“I haven’t said I’d go.”

“But you want to.” Daniel’s grin told her he knew he was right. “You’re curious. Think on it tonight, and I’ll call on you tomorrow. Either way, I want to borrow your device. Better you come with me to make sure I don’t damage it. Or I might take a liking to it and decide to keep it.”

Violet stopped abruptly, this time in front of the boardinghouse where she and her mother truly stayed. She hoped Daniel had no intention of following her in. Her landlady had a strict no gentlemen policy—fine with Violet—and she couldn’t risk them all being turned out.

“Must you always have everything your own way, Mr. Mackenzie?”

“Aye, I think so. For a long time I was an only child, and you know how spoiled they get to be.”

Violet ignored the glint of humor in his eyes. She was an only child herself, but she’d never had the chance to be spoiled. “You said you had a ‘wee baby sister.’”

“Aye, and a little brother even more wee. Best thing that ever happened to an only child, Dad marrying again and having more children.” Daniel shook his head. “The trouble those two can get into and blame on me is beautiful to behold. I’ll introduce you sometime. They’d like you.”

The offhand way he spoke about Violet interacting with his family—his wealthy, powerful, untouchable family—unnerved her. Such people had nothing to do with young women like Violet.

Violet hadn’t known much about Daniel before he’d turned up at her house in London, but since then she’d made it a point to find out as much about him and his family as she could. The Mackenzies were well known not only for their money and standing, but for the scandals they’d engendered. Not one of the four Mackenzie brothers had managed to marry without some kind of scandal, and the two older brothers—one of whom was Daniel’s father—had taken some of the most notorious courtesans in England as their lovers. One of the younger brothers, Mac, had become a painter, living the most open life in Paris. He’d even taken his young wife among the artists and their models, before she’d left him. The youngest brother was said to be insane, though he too was now married and had children.

Daniel was gaining his own notoriety. He’d taken a degree in Edinburgh so quickly that everyone remarked on it, and had traveled extensively through Germany and France in the years since, meeting inventors and eccentric scientists.

Not that he wasn’t decadent as well. Daniel usually had a woman with him, from all reports—never the same one twice—and the three-day-long crushes he hosted in whatever house in whatever city he happened to be living in were not for the faint of heart.

Daniel had plenty of money—his mother’s family had put a fortune in trust for their daughter, which Cameron had been unable to touch, and Daniel had inherited it. He’d always had a generous allowance, but came into the full money of the trust when he’d finished university.