Chapter Seven
Violet scooted back against the soft cushions of her window seat.
The afternoon light poured in over her shoulder and onto the pile of letters she was reading.
The private sitting room was an oasis in her grand townhome in Hanover Square.
Stuart would never come into her private sanctuary.
Strangely, he considered it rude. She sighed.
He had been true to his word and had been perfectly behaved in the last week.
Before his father’s ball, he had presented her with a diamond necklace.
The three strands of sparkling gems had sat regally along her collarbone.
Ginny had expertly powdered over the fading yellow bruises on her shoulder so that she could wear it.
The irony of that was not lost on Violet as she stared at the showy piece in the mirror that night.
The ostentatious necklace was not remotely her style, and the diamonds had winked coldly back at her.
Violet twisted the thin gold band on her thumb round and round.
She picked up a letter from her lap. Many of the letters were private correspondence from the duke’s friends, like Lord Rawlings, who wrote to him from prison.
There were letters from a private investigative firm that were much older regarding a search for someone named Lillian Kelley.
And then there was this one. It was a letter from a Mrs. Lowel at the Foxy Den.
Your Grace, I am afraid I cannot fulfill your request at this time. After the unfortunate incident with the last girl, I cannot in good conscience send you another, even for the generous sum you offered. Please accept my sincerest apology.
What sort of employment would the duke be procuring for himself?
All staffing would go through his secretary.
And what happened with the last girl? Violet set the letter aside and opened another.
This one was from a Mrs. Davidson. It was also a carefully worded denial of His Grace’s request for a girl.
Violet frowned. A girl for what? She read several others, all in the same vein.
The last one she picked up was from a Mr. Jones. This letter was dated just last week.
I have someone for you, Your Grace. A real pretty thing fresh from the country, just as you have requested. But the price for such a pure thing is surely worth at least 500 quid. I could get as much for her at auction. There are plenty who are looking for a virgin.
Violet gasped, the meaning behind the request becoming clear.
Her father-in-law had been trying to procure a mistress.
No, don’t be daft. He was requesting a prostitute.
Mr. Jones was selling some poor woman’s virginity to the top bidder.
She rifled through the other five letters.
All of these had politely rejected his money.
After the unfortunate incident with the last girl…
We cannot fulfill your request at this time…
We have no girls who fit what you have requested.
Violet stared down at the letters. She wasn’t so na?ve as to think that men of power did not have mistresses, but why would the duke be hiring prostitutes?
Surely, there were plenty of ladies who would gladly be his mistress.
Wasn’t he seeing Lady Awbrey? In fact, why had the duke never remarried?
Violet had always assumed it had been because of his grief over his wife.
Rumors of her demise all sounded tragic, even with the innuendo that it hadn’t been an accident.
Violet had always thought perhaps the lady had taken her own life.
She chewed on her bottom lip. This could be the lead that she needed.
There was more to this than just the duke hiring prostitutes.
Why did these madams refuse to send him their girls?
If she could find out more, perhaps it would be the leverage she needed.
She would have to go pay a visit to one of these people and bring money to bribe information out of them.
That’s how things worked, wasn’t it? Money, she had. It was time to put it to good use.
Not for the first time, Violet wished she could confide in her friends.
Lucy was a master planner. She would know exactly how to go about bribing a brothel owner.
But Lucy was about to have her baby, and the last thing she needed was to be worrying about Violet’s problems. No, she would solve her own problems. First, she needed to finish going through this pile of correspondence.
*
“I think this is a bad idea, ma’am.” Ginny wrung her hands together.
“Then why did you get me the address of the Foxy Den?” Violet swung her dark gray cloak over her shoulders.
“I didn’t know you would be thinking about going there yourself!” Ginny cried out. Her maid took a deep breath. “I can go for you. If you tell me what you need.”
Violet shook her head. “What I need is information. You couldn’t know what questions to ask. Besides, it’s only four in the afternoon, hardly the witching hour.” She held up a hand to stave off any more arguments as Ginny opened her mouth. “And I will bring Jim with me for protection.”
Jim was a trusted footman. In fact, the staff were all loyal to her.
Stuart certainly had not garnered any loyalty amongst them with his abusive language, especially when in one of his drunken rages.
But they wouldn’t have to worry about any of that because Stuart was gone to the country for two weeks of shooting with his friends.
Her relief at his absence was immense. It gave her two weeks to find out what she needed.
Two weeks of peace from the constant anxiety that usually plagued her days.
She headed down the corridor and down the long staircase to the front foyer.
Jim was waiting by the door to escort her out to the carriage.
Once settled inside the plush interior, Violet sucked in a deep, fortifying breath.
Despite the bravado she showed in front of Ginny, she was nervous.
She snapped open her reticule and checked the coin she had stashed inside.
Was one hundred pounds enough? She hoped to spend far less but wanted to be prepared.
Their first stop was at the Blue Angel. She had a note to leave for Mr. Seaton, as promised, about the information she had read and her plan to visit the brothel to find out why they wouldn’t send the duke any more girls.
Her stomach churned. She closed her eyes as the now-familiar nausea washed over her.
She must not be sick. Damn the sway of the carriage.
She had been fine earlier today and hoped that the awful morning sickness had finally passed.
For the rest of the ride across town, she concentrated on her breathing so she wouldn’t be sick.
As the conveyance finally came to a stop, Violet opened her eyes.
The door swung open, and Jim handed her down onto the pavement.
The Blue Angel was a large stone building with gleaming glass windows and an enormous carved wood door.
A discreet brass placard with the name next to the door was the only indication that this was a business, not a residence.
She walked up the three stairs and knocked.
The door swung open wide. A very large, very scary-looking man stood in the entry.
“We ain’t open yet.”
Violet stared up at the man, and her mind went blank. His countenance darkened. She gulped. Courage, lass, her father would say. “Um, hello. I have a message to leave for Mr. Seaton.”
The man’s posture relaxed slightly. “He’s not here, but I can leave it with Mr. Reeves.” He held out one beefy hand.
She opened her reticule and fumbled inside for the note.
“Violet?” a feminine voice called out.
The man turned, and Violet followed the direction of his gaze. Behind them, coming down the staircase, was Elizabeth Reeves. “Kenneth, it’s alright, I know her.”
The man at the door nodded and stepped back.
“Please come in. It’s freezing outside,” Elizabeth said.
Violet turned to her footman, who stood on the pavement in front of the carriage. “Jim, I will just be a minute.” She stepped inside. “Hello, Mrs. Reeves.”
“Lady Sommerset, can I help you with anything?”
Violet felt her cheeks heat. She remembered how kind Elizabeth had been a couple of months ago at the Hartwick’s Christmas ball when she helped Violet with her dress sleeves and discovered the bruises Violet had been strategically trying to cover up.
Violet glanced over at the doorman, who had settled his bulk onto a wooden chair beside the front door.
“Actually, I am just here to drop off a note for Mr. Seaton. He said I should contact him here.”
Elizabeth nodded. “You can leave it with me. Although I must say I am quite surprised. How are you acquainted with Seaton?”
Violet opened her mouth and then shut it. How could she explain her business with Mr. Seaton? “Um, well. We have a mutual interest in the dealings of my father-in-law.”
Elizabeth quirked an eyebrow. “Do you now? What sort of dealings?”
Violet sighed. She should have known that the newspaper editor would not be satisfied with half answers.
And she was a terrible liar. Always had been.
She stepped forward and lowered her voice.
“You see, I am trying to find out information that I can use to blackmail my father-in-law to get him to intervene with my husband.” She sighed.
It felt good to tell someone her plan. Elizabeth would tell her if she was being na?ve or stupid.
“I am pregnant. I simply cannot risk myself any longer. I have to find a way to get away from Stuart. His father is the only one who has any pull over him.”
Elizabeth reached for her hand and squeezed. “I understand. But can you not stay with your family?”
Violet shook her head as her eyes filled with tears. “No, I am on my own. My father…well, he tried to say something, but the duke has knowledge of his secrets and threatened to reveal them if I made any trouble.”
“That group of men are rotten to the core. I’m sorry to include your father in that statement, but their friendship has brought so much pain to many over the years. It just makes me so angry that they can continue to operate as though they control the whole world.”
Violet gained some strength from the righteous anger in Elizabeth’s flashing green eyes. She smiled ruefully. “They do. At least in my world.”
“So what is your plan?” Elizabeth asked.
“Today? To do some sleuthing. That is how I met Mr. Seaton. He and I ran into each other in the duke’s study, both of us with the same purpose of finding information on the duke’s dealings.
Actually, I had previously met him at Hartwick House more than a year ago.
Do you remember that day when he was showing off with sleight-of-hand tricks? ”
“Yes.” Elizabeth smiled. “I remember. Are you sure there is nothing that I can help you with? You don’t have to do your own sleuthing. You can hire Seaton. People do.”
Violet shook her head. “No, I must figure this out. I need to find my own way out. But in return for a favor he did me the other night, I promised to keep him apprised of any information I came across.” She pulled out the sealed note. “Can you please give this to him?”
Elizabeth took the note and nodded. “Good luck digging around. Please remember that you have friends who would help if you let us. I am an excellent sleuth. It is part and parcel of my job.”
“Thank you.” She did feel better telling someone at least part of it. She wouldn’t share the details of her suspicions. The duke’s secrets would be hers to wield. “I must go.”
Violet hurried outside. A cold wind whipped at her skirts as Jim helped her climb into the carriage. Then they were on their way to Cheapside.