Chapter Eleven
Violet ran as fast as her legs would carry her.
She raced through the house, down the first-floor corridor and up the back staircase.
Panic spread through her limbs, spurring her to pump her arms and legs harder as she climbed to the second floor.
At the top, she halted in confusion at the endless hallway that stretched before her.
She glanced down and laid a hand on her large, swollen belly.
Keep moving. Protect yourself. Heavy footfalls followed her, but she didn’t dare turn around.
Another corridor intersected, and she flew around the corner.
Running, always running. She was so tired.
She tried a doorknob. Maybe she could lock herself into one of these rooms. The handle rattled.
Locked. The next one as well, and the one after that.
A sob ripped from her chest. She had to keep running.
So tired, but still she ran. Her hair flowed behind her, and her bare feet slapped against the floor.
Then she was yanked to a halt. She cried out in pain.
A second hand wrapped around her throat and began to squeeze. This was it. This is how she would die.
Violet jerked awake with a scream caught in her throat. She scrambled back until her back hit the carved wooden headboard of her bed. Moonlight streamed in through the window and illuminated the white sheets. She sucked in shallow breaths.
“It was just a bad dream. You are safe,” a deep voice said from across the room.
Violet gasped and grabbed one of the pillows, holding it in front of her like a shield. Who was that? Was she still trapped in her nightmare?
Then Rhys Seaton walked out of the shadows and slowly approached the bed, stopping an arm’s length away from the edge.
“It’s just me.” He shoved his hands into his pockets in a move perhaps meant to be nonthreatening.
Laughable really because this man always looked lethal with his steely blue eyes and sharp cheekbones, not to mention that scar down his cheek.
Still, Violet relaxed her grip on the pillow. “Just you? What are you doing in my bedroom?”
He shrugged. “Watching over you. Heard that your husband was home.”
She sighed and nodded. “Yes, unexpectedly home yesterday.”
Seaton stepped forward and brushed his fingertips gently down her cheek. “What happened?”
The moonlight cast its glow on half his face, his scar glowing white against his skin, pulling his lip up into a snarl that revealed his anger, despite his soft touch as he studied her bruise. She drew away. “He saw me get out of the carriage with you.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You couldn’t have known.”
He moved to her reading chair and settled his tall frame onto its upholstered seat. He stretched his longs legs out. The leather of his black boots creaked as he crossed his feet at the ankles, and the rest of him disappeared into the shadows. “Tell me your dream.”
Violet took her pillow and lay down, facing the shadowed Mr. Seaton.
How strange that she felt safe with him.
She should be screaming for the servants.
She bit down on her bottom lip. She should tell him to leave, but she didn’t want to be alone yet.
“It’s always the same dream. I am running away from some unknown danger.
Running and running. This time, I was much more pregnant, my belly huge, and the unseen hand caught me around my throat. That’s when I woke up.”
A low rumble that could only be described as a growl came from him.
It sent a shiver down her back. She grabbed the blanket and pulled it up to her waist. What was the mysterious Mr. Seaton like?
Was he always so recalcitrant? She plumped up her pillow under her neck.
She had so many questions. “Mr. Seaton, do you have a wife? A family?”
“No wife. A family of sorts, at the Blue Angel.”
“Ah yes, with Lord and Lady Griffen.”
A dry chuckle came from him. “Matthew would not like to hear you describe him as such. But yes, Matthew and Elizabeth. And Matthew’s younger sister, Stella, and little Robert. In fact, only business associates call me Mr. Seaton. You should just call me Rhys.”
“Isn’t that a bit familiar?”
“I am sitting in your bedroom, so I would say we are familiar.”
“About that, you should go before my husband returns. I never know when he might come into my rooms.”
“Your husband won’t be home tonight. He will be sleeping at the club.”
Alarmed, Violet sat up. “How do you know that?” She shoved her hair off her face.
“Don’t worry. I promised you I wouldn’t kill him. But be assured, you are safe for tonight. I’ll go once you go back to sleep.”
As tired as she was, she wasn’t sleepy. She lay back down on her side, staring at his shadowed form. “Tell me something about yourself. Something no one else knows.”
He jerked. A small movement to be sure, no more than a twitch of his boots. But it made her smile to know she had surprised him. He was still and silent for several long minutes. “Rhys? Indulge me.”
“All right. Here is something,” he finally replied. “I have an excellent singing voice.”
“You do?”
“Yes. My mother was a singer. Well known on the stage. She had a clear and beautiful soprano; her stage name was the Blue Angel.”
“Like the club,” she murmured.
“Yes.” He nodded. “Your turn.”
“Something about me?” She knew what he meant.
“I don’t know that there is anything that no one else knows about me.
I have four sisters. Trust me, there aren’t a lot of secrets your sisters don’t find out.
” She contemplated what she wanted to share with him.
Something of who she was before this year.
“I used to be audacious.” Violet was immediately embarrassed. How stupid to blurt that out.
“I believe it. I remember you from Lucy’s parlor. You seemed to sparkle with good humor that day.”
“I remember that day too.” She had thought about it so many times over the last year.
His handsome face, his kindness to little Robert when he showed him the magic trick, pulling a coin from behind the boy’s ear.
And the twinkle in his eye as she said she wanted to be next.
He’d pulled a ring from behind her ear with a wry smile.
Of course, only the best for an earl’s daughter.
Violet rubbed her finger over the thin band of gold on her thumb, turning it around and around. “You did the magic trick.”
“I confess it’s the only one I know.”
Violet laughed. “I don’t know that it’s your only trick. How did you get in here? How did you even know which room was mine?”
His shoulders rose and fell. “There is a large tree right outside your window. And, well…” He let out a small cough. “I paid the footman, the one you were with yesterday, to tell me which room was yours.”
Her eyes widened. Well, that solved that. Goodness, money really was the way to gain information, wasn’t it? Not that she should be surprised. “How much did you pay him?”
“Two quid. Now, no more questions. You’ve exhausted me. Go to sleep.”
That was an entire month’s salary for Jim, so she didn’t blame him. She yawned. Maybe she was sleepy, after all. She snuggled into her pillow. “Will you sing me a song?”
There was a long silence.
“I knew I would regret telling you.”
Violet smiled.
Then, to her utter surprise, Rhys began to sing.
He hadn’t lied; his voice was low and melodic.
The song he sang was a sea shanty about a sailor saved from a stormy sea by a buxom mermaid.
The sailor fell in love with the mystical sea creature, but when he next woke, he found himself alone on the sandy shore.
The song was slow and sad, but the timbre of Rhys’s tenor rolled over her like warm air on a summer day.
She closed her eyes and let the melody lull her to sleep.