The Wicked Deeds of Daniel Mackenzie(66)
Author: Jennifer Ashley

He must mean going back to the country inn. Violet knew that if she went there with Daniel, she’d surrender to him.

But first, she’d tell him everything, every dark detail about herself—what had happened afterward with Jacobi, the other reasons Jacobi had convinced her to stay, and why she’d found the courage to finally flee him. Daniel might loathe her and turn her away, but he deserved to know.

What she’d experienced with Daniel so far had been playful and lovely. Daniel, a wealthy and pleasure-seeking man, might want nothing more than play. In that case, nothing mattered. He made the rules of the game, not Violet.

But she could not move forward until she told him. It mattered to her.

If Daniel still wanted her after that, she’d surrender her body, never mind her fears. But she’d let it be his choice.

Violet leaned down and kissed him. The kiss turned long, passionate, filled with need.

Daniel was the one who broke away. He threaded his fingers through her hair and gave her a look that was so tender her heart ached. “Go do what you need to, Vi. And wait for me to come.”

She nodded. It took a while for both of them to leave the bed; more touching and kissing slowing them. Violet dressed with Daniel’s assistance, but the lump in her throat was so hard she couldn’t swallow the coffee the hotel staff had left outside the suite’s door.

“Violet, darling, where on earth have you been?” Celine put another two lumps of sugar into her tea and stirred it noisily as Violet slipped into the sitting room at the boardinghouse. “I have two people wanting private séances today, and we must be ready.” Celine’s tone softened as she looked Violet over. “Where did you get that lovely dress? You look very fetching in it, my dear.”

Violet looked down at herself, aware that she still wore the borrowed costume and slippers. She’d have to sneak them back into the theatre sometime today. But she’d been loath to stuff the beaded dress into her valise at the hotel and resume the shirtwaist and skirt. Daniel had picked out this ensemble, and she wanted to wrap the wonderful evening around her as long as she could.

Violet poured herself the strong tea the boardinghouse provided and took a sip. It was disagreeable, especially after the excellent food she’d tasted last night, not to mention the chocolate. But the champagne had rather given her a headache.

Mary answered a soft knock on the door. One of the boardinghouse’s maids put her head around it.

“Mademoiselle, a man has come to see you,” the maid said to Violet. “I put him in the parlor downstairs. He is waiting there.”

Daniel? Violet thought excitedly. So soon? But when Daniel decided to do something, Violet had noted, he did not wait to do it. She’d have to explain that her mother had appointments today and would need Violet after all, but Daniel would no doubt have contingencies for that.

Violet thanked the maid and said she’d be down at once. She went to her room to smooth her hair and wash the remnants of chocolate from her face before she descended to the ground floor. Drawing a long breath, she opened the door of the parlor.

And found herself looking at Monsieur Lanier, the banker who’d hired them a couple of nights ago. With him stood two men in the uniforms of the French police.

Violet halted, frozen.

“Yes, that is the one,” Monsieur Lanier said. “Told me she was a princess from Russia. Then she and her friend tried to rob me.”

The policemen looked stern. “Mademoiselle, we will have to take you for questioning,” one said.

Violet stared at them for another stunned moment, then she turned and ran.

It wasn’t panic that made her run, or a sense of guilt. The agreement was that if the police in whatever town they were in came after them, Violet, the swiftest runner, would lead them on a merry chase. This would give Mary time to gather what she could and take Celine to safety. Violet would meet up with them later at the designated rendezvous.

Violet picked up her skirts and ran down the street, the old-fashioned high-heeled slippers clicking on the cobbles. The police came right behind her, swift on their feet.

The boardinghouse maid really should have mentioned the visitor’s name and that he’d brought the police, Violet thought in irritation. Probably the policemen had told her not to. The landlady, who didn’t much like them, must have agreed. Blast and bother.

Violet had no money with her, but she knew how to be resourceful. She’d slip away from the policemen and find some way to get herself to the meeting point.

This meant she’d have to leave Daniel behind. Violet had never regretted departing any town, even the lovely ones, but now her heart swelled with pain. She didn’t dare send Daniel word, even a good-bye. She and her mother must disappear again.

The beautiful time she’d had with Daniel, her awakening, was over.

He’d searched for Violet the last time she’d vanished. Would he this time? Or would Daniel have lost interest in chasing her?

She knew where his family lived in London. She’d made it her business to know. Violet could write to him and explain, sending the letter to Ainsley. After she got her mother to safety. Daniel might not answer, might not look for her, might not even bother to read the letter. But she had to try.

Violet swerved into a narrow, arched passage between houses, trying to be light on her feet in the foul-smelling muck. She’d gone halfway along it before she realized the policemen were no longer following her. The entrance to the passage remained empty, the only sound the echo of her shoes and her labored breathing.

Violet let her satin skirts drop, never mind the muck. Damn it. If the policemen had given up on Violet so soon, they’d gone back to find Violet’s mother.

Celine couldn’t be arrested. She’d take ill if she went to jail, unable to bear the cold, the foul airs. She was too delicate for such things. And Mary—Mary had been arrested for stealing clothes once upon a time in London, released only because the magistrate said he didn’t have enough evidence for a trial. Mary had stolen to feed herself and her child, who had died all the same of some pestilence that had raged through the poorer parts of London.

Mary was much more resilient than Celine, but if the police discovered her past arrest, they might ship her back to London. A magistrate might not be so lenient for a second offense, and who knew what influence Monsieur Lanier, a rich and respectable banker, would have.

Violet jogged back through the passage to the morning streets. Those on early errands stared at her in her beaded velvet and satin as she ran past. She reached the boardinghouse again, yanked open the door, and dashed inside and up the stairs.