Chapter Twelve
“Hello, dog.” Rhys greeted the mastiff as he entered the house.
The big dog lifted his head from the floor, where he lay in front of the kitchen hearth, and gave a snuffle of greeting.
“Did Louisa feed you, boy? Sorry I couldn’t let you come with me tonight.
You are too much of a wild card to bring to Hartwick’s house.
” Rhys passed the dog and exited the kitchen into the hallway.
He dumped his hat and gloves on the front table and climbed the stairs with his shadow at his heels.
His room was in the right back corner of the house, overlooking the garden.
Easy access out through the big French doors to a Juliet balcony and down the drainpipe if the need arose.
He walked across the dark room and pushed open one of the doors.
Cold air rushed in, and he breathed deeply.
When he’d first arrived in Violet’s room, she was sleeping, lying in the moonlight, looking like a fairy princess, with her golden hair splayed out on the white sheets.
His gut feeling that her husband’s early return would pose a danger to her had been validated by the dark bruise on her cheek and the equally dark circles under her eyes.
As he’d watched her sleep, the need to protect, to kill for her, had solidified in his chest.
He shook his head and closed the glass door, turning the lock.
Stopping at the nightstand, he began emptying his pockets.
His dagger clattered on the wooden top. Next, his leather coin purse, then his roll of lockpicking tools.
He stowed his vial of sleeping powder and another smaller knife he kept in his boot in the drawer.
And finally, he pulled out an assortment of items he had collected today on his travels through the city—a marble, two gold hairpins, a smooth rock in an unusual black color, a few matchsticks, and the gold pinky ring he’d taken from bloody Sam Wright as punishment for saying he’d fixed Mrs. Beasley’s back door when Rhys knew that the man had never shown up.
He sighed, stripped down, and washed quickly with freezing cold water from the porcelain washbasin.
Then he got into bed and settled under the thick blankets.
The dog settled on the floor at the foot of the bed with a sigh of his own.
Having the dog, with its excellent hearing and loud warning bark, gave him some extra reassurance.
Folding his hands under his head, he stared up at the ceiling and contemplated his problem with Violet.
She had quickly gotten under his skin. Fucking hell, he had sung for her tonight.
He already found himself breaking his own rules about allowing himself to want her.
And he did want her. He wanted to throw her over his shoulder and abscond into the night with her.
To take her somewhere safe. To take her to bed and cherish her body the way she deserved to be cherished.
To erase the memory of every mark she had endured.
Rhys closed his eyes. God, after all these years of being careful, of being celibate, he had turned out just like his mother after all.
Falling for someone totally inappropriate.
Someone miles out of his league. Just like she had.
Fool. It would only lead to madness and obsession.
No, dammit, he could control his emotions.
He had been doing it successfully his whole adult life.
He would put his feelings for Violet into a safe compartment in his mind and lock them away.
He would find out what the Duke of Lavensham was up to and free Violet from her horrible husband.
Then he could be free of his worry for her.
She would be safe, and he could walk away with his heart safe as well.
*
He watched Violet move slowly along the row of stalls at the Covent Garden market.
Her burly footman, Jim, followed along behind her.
She hadn’t left the house for four days, and he’d begun to worry that he would need to go inside again to check on her.
But being in her bedroom, talking with her in the dark, had been too intimate. Too dangerous for him.
Instead, he had trailed her husband. The man had spent two nights in a goddamn brothel.
Perhaps he was going to do as he said and take a mistress instead of bothering with his pregnant wife.
The idea of him coming home and spreading some pox to Violet made Rhys clench his teeth in anger.
But he had spoken to the woman who had entertained Sommerset, and she had laughingly said it was easy money because the man had been too drunk to even get hard.
He had passed out suckling on her tit both nights.
What a bloody waste of a human being Sommerset was.
Violet stopped at a booth selling clocks.
She ran her fingers lightly over a small mantel clock with a mother-of-pearl face.
On the top of the clock, two mermaids, cast in silver, emerged from a spray of seawater, their heads flung back and their long hair streaming down their backs. A smile teased at Violet’s lips.
He lengthened his stride and stepped up next to her. “How are you feeling today, Lady Sommerset?”
Violet whirled to face him. “Mr. Seaton!” Her smile solidified, and its bright sunshine hit him in the center of his chest like an anvil to his heart. He took an involuntary step back.
“I’m feeling fine this morning. I think my morning sickness has finally passed. It has been three days of blessed relief. I am keeping my fingers crossed.”
“Good.”
“What are you doing here at the market this morning, Mr. Seaton?”
“Watching you.”
Her eyes widened; eyebrows raised high.
“Watching over you, I mean. Lucy asked me to keep an eye on you,” he fumbled to explain. He reached out and touched one of the mermaids. “Do you like mermaids?” he asked stupidly.
Violet tilted her head to one side. “It reminded me of the song you sang the other night.”
Rhys felt his cheeks heat. Blast it, he did not blush. He cleared his throat. “Actually, I wondered if you would like to come with me to see the owner of the Birdcage. Viola Rigby is a friend of mine, and she knows all sorts of things about all sorts of people.”
“The Birdcage?”
“It is a high-end brothel. I think you’ll find a marked difference between it and Minerva’s place.”
She nodded. “When shall we go?”
“After your shopping? There is no hurry. Viola will be abed until at least one. She is a creature of the night.”
“I was just browsing. I woke up this morning and felt the need to get out of the house. I am getting hungry, though. Can I interest you in a cup of coffee and joining me for something to eat?”
He nodded. “I know a place nearby.” They walked companionably down the rest of the row.
Violet was tactile, touching items she liked.
Pulling her hand from the warmth of her muff, she ran her fingers over a row of flannel swatches in an array of pink colors.
Then, two stalls down, she reached out and pulled a satin ribbon in a sunny yellow color through two fingers.
Turning to the merchant, she said, “I’ll take two yards of this one.” Once her purchase had been made and stowed in a basket Jim carried, they moved on.
At the end of the row, he took her elbow and guided her to the left down Bond Street.
The coffeehouse was bustling, but a table for two was open along the wall, and he pulled out a chair for her to sit.
He sat across from her and glanced around the room, noting the exits and scanning the crowded dining room for possible troublemakers.
But the din of conversation was cheerful, so he relaxed.
Violet also glanced around with interest. “I have never been to a coffeehouse before. But I have always wanted to. What shall we get?”
He raised his hand to gesture to the serving woman. “Do you like apple tarts? They serve an outstanding one.”
She nodded. Her eyes gleamed. “Yum.”
“A coffee for me and an apple tart for the lady,” he told the waitress. Turning back to Violet, he asked, “Coffee or tea?”
“Tea, please,” she said. “And a sugar bowl.”
Rhys leaned back in his chair and studied Violet.
She definitely wore a layer of powder over her cheeks still.
The bruise was barely discernible behind the blonde ringlets that framed her face.
Furthermore, the wide brim of her velvet-lined bonnet kept the sides of her face from prying eyes.
Her berry-pink lips were full and plump, and he wondered what they would taste like.
Pulling his gaze from her face, he picked a point over her shoulder and focused instead on the gray sky out the window.
“I have so much more energy suddenly. And my appetite has returned. I can’t tell you what a difference the past couple of days have been like compared to this time last week.
My maid said that it means I am through the first part of the pregnancy and am probably approaching the midpoint.
Her mother is a midwife, so she is a very good source of information.
” She wrinkled her nose. “Not that Sommerset will let me see her mother. He insists that Dr. Knightsbridge care for me. He has been the physician for the dukes of Lavensham for years. And you wouldn’t doubt it if you saw the decrepit old man.
Oh dear, that’s so unkind. It is not his fault he is so old. ”
Rhys chuckled. She certainly had plenty to say today.
“My mother has been absolutely no help. She remembers nothing about her pregnancies. Or perhaps it is just that she does not deem it a proper topic to discuss. Well, I will certainly tell my younger sisters all about my experience. I wish I could see Lucy more. She would tell me the truth.”
“Why haven’t you?” he asked.
Violet tugged at her scarf, unwinding the knot and setting it to the side next to her muff. “Honestly, I haven’t seen her because I am afraid she will immediately see my unhappiness. I am embarrassed for her to know what has been happening. Lucy is such a warrior, and I am…” Her words trailed off.
“You are what? Trapped? In need of friends?” Rhys watched her expression carefully. “None of what he does to you is your fault.”
Her eyes stayed downcast as she shook her head, a small movement of denial.
“I foolishly thought I would manage him. The marriage was arranged by our fathers, but I have known Stuart since we were children. I feel betrayed. By what I thought our marriage would be like, by my father, by myself for being a coward.”
Rhys reached out to cover her hand, but she pulled it back. She lifted her gaze to him. “I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”
He wished he could say something to erase the sadness from her eyes. Make her a promise that everything would be all right. But he knew a promise like that would be hollow. So he honored her request and changed the subject. “You said you had four sisters. Tell me about them.”
Her expression brightened. “Yes. I am the oldest. Mary is twenty and married at the end of last summer to a neighbor of ours in Kent. Jane is nineteen and having her season now. She is a bit featherbrained but has a good heart. Millie and Liza are fifteen and twelve, respectively. Millie is whip smart and no nonsense. While Liza is dreamy and loves to play the piano. She is quite talented. I also have a younger brother, David. He is at Eton.”
Their food and drink arrived. The waitress efficiently set everything out, including a small pot of honey. “We don’t have any sugar,” she said before bustling off to help another customer.
Rhys picked up his coffee and took a swallow of the rich, bitter brew.
Violet poured her tea and then dumped in a generous amount of honey into the cup.
She stirred delicately, took a sip, and then proceeded to spoon in another dollop of honey.
Rhys lifted one eyebrow at the amount of sweetener.
Growing up, he had never had the luxury of sweeteners of any type, except the occasional fresh fruit. He had no taste for sweet things.
Violet took another sip. Her eyes fluttered closed, and she let out a soft hum of pleasure.
The sound seemed to echo through him. Watching her take a bite of flaky pastry with another hum of approval only inflamed his senses further.
Her pink tongue flicked out and licked the corner of her mouth, and his cock stiffened.
He quickly took another gulp of bitter coffee.
She is not for you. He clamped down on his unwanted desire for her, staying quiet as Violet finished eating her apple tart.
“You were right; that was delicious. You didn’t want one?”
“I don’t have much of a sweet tooth.”
“Oh. I guess I could see that. You don’t strike me as a man who indulges.
I don’t know how you can drink coffee. It is so bitter.
I have a terrible sweet tooth. My sisters always tease me that I will become fat if I keep eating sweets.
I suppose that it is a given now that I am with child.
Perhaps I will become as big as a house.
” She leaned back and put her hand on her belly.
“It’s hard to even see any evidence of your pregnancy yet.”
“It is only a small bump.” She blushed. “Oh dear, I am talking too much. I’m sorry, I’m sure you don’t want to hear details about my pregnancy.”
“Talk about whatever you like. I don’t mind.
” He had the feeling that Violet had walled herself off from all the people she would normally confide in about such things.
For some reason, she seemed to relax around him, which was the opposite of how he made most people feel.
The idea that perhaps she felt safe around him spread a strange warmth through his chest. He gulped down the last of his coffee.
“Perhaps we should get going to the Birdcage.” He pulled his watch fob from his vest and checked the time. “Viola will be up by now.”
Violet nodded.
Rhys laid coin down to pay for their meal and took her elbow to guide her back through the coffeehouse and outside.
Jim had fetched her carriage and was waiting on the street.
Rhys eyed the family crest on the fine carriage.
“Perhaps it would be more discreet if we walked. It’s only four blocks from here.
Can you pick us up outside the market in an hour, Jim? ”
The footman glanced at his mistress. Violet nodded. “It’s all right, Jim. I am perfectly safe with Mr. Seaton. He is right, though. Discretion is important.”
Jim nodded. Rhys approached the man and tucked a crown into his front pocket. Then he threw another up to the coachman for good measure. “We’ll see you in one hour.”