Wicked Deeds of Daniel Mackenzie Page 18

  “And the comtesse brought in the most marvelous fortune-teller,” Lady Vic was saying. She squeezed Daniel’s shoulder. “Do you want to guess what she said? About me? And maybe about you?”

  Daniel’s scattered thoughts roared together. “Fortune-teller, you say?”

  “Yes, a Gypsy lady. Very proud of herself, she is. But guess what she said about me.”

  “That you’ll travel far and marry a handsome man?” Daniel said distractedly.

  “How did you know? Not only a handsome man, but a handsome Scottish man.”

  Could the dear girl be any less subtle? “Where is this fortune-teller?”

  “In the drawing room.” Lady Victoria’s smile widened. When the waltz ended, she latched her fingers tightly on to Daniel’s arm and all but dragged him out of the ballroom to the drawing room.

  The fortune-teller had skin the color of milk-laden tea, wore a voluminous blouse held in place with a black corsetlike bodice, and had covered her head in a closely tied red scarf. Gold rings decorated her slim fingers, and a necklace of coins clinked around her neck.

  Her eyes were the same dark blue as when she’d first looked up at Daniel in the house in London, her hands the same gentle ones that had lit the candles.

  Violet saw Daniel, took in Lady Vic hanging on his arm, and didn’t miss a beat. She smiled the dark, mysterious smile of a Romany woman, and gestured to the chairs. “Would you like to know your future?” she asked. Her voice was dusky, low. “For but a coin in my bowl, I can reveal all.”

  Chapter 15

  Daniel’s eyes sparkled with mirth, but he kept his face straight. Lady Victoria plopped herself into a chair and tugged Daniel into another.

  He was here, where Violet could reach out and touch him. In spite of Lady Victoria’s presence, Violet saw only Daniel, the chatter of the debutante like the buzz of an annoying insect.

  “He wants to know all about his future,” Lady Victoria said. “Especially in regard to his married future.”

  The sparkle in Daniel’s eyes turned mischievous. “Aye, tell me something that will put my poor old dad’s mind at ease.”

  Violet noted that his accent had become different, less Highland and more working-class Glaswegian. She was good at accents, and Daniel, it seemed, was too.

  Violet pushed her bowl toward him. “You must gift me with silver first.”

  “How about gold?” Daniel reached into his pocket and dropped a gold sovereign to the top of the lesser coins in the bowl. “That way you’ll give me a very guid fortune.”

  “That is English money, my lord,” Violet said. “This is France.”

  “A bank will change it for you. And I’m not a lord. Never will be. Just plain Mr. Mackenzie is me.”

  He tugged off his glove and laid his hand, palm up, on the table. No soft dandy was Daniel. As Violet had seen on their adventure, he had no qualms about stripping off his gloves and working with his hands. His palms and fingers bore plenty of calluses. Violet recalled how his blunt fingertips had felt when he’d caressed her in the bed, touching her with such gentleness.

  Violet rested her finger on the pad below Daniel’s forefinger. Bare skin to bare skin. She could hardly breathe. Even this contact, so small, made her blood run hot.

  She couldn’t do this. If she continued touching him, she’d make a complete fool of herself. And possibly she might not care.

  Violet let out her breath and lifted her hand from Daniel’s. She pulled the heavy crystal in its stand between them, and Daniel leaned forward, interested.

  “What do you do with this?” He touched the sphere. “Test frequencies?”

  “For such a deep fortune, I must look into the crystal,” Violet said. “But I must warn you, it does not always tell you what you wish to hear.”

  “I’m willing to risk it.”

  Still Daniel didn’t smile, but the wickedness in his eyes made Violet want to laugh. He was doing it again, putting Violet into his full focus, making her forget he trained that focus on anyone else.

  “You’ll like it,” Lady Victoria said. “You’ll see.” Gone was the girl’s conviction that Violet was a fake. And if she clung to Daniel’s arm any harder, he was in danger of her peeling off his skin right through his coat.

  Violet moved her hands over the crystal as she’d been taught, making her movements languid. She peered into the depth of the clear quartz, frowning a little as though she saw something besides the heart of the stone. “Hmm.”

  She looked a while longer, making her expression so troubled that Lady Victoria leaned forward worriedly. “Good heavens, what is it?”

  Violet gave a dramatic shiver. She made a sign against evil to the crystal, then sat up and rested her hands on the table.

  “I’m afraid it is not good, Mr. Mackenzie.”

  Daniel’s brows went up. “No? Shall I buy my da a mourning suit? Give my stepma a lock of me hair for a mourning brooch?”

  “No, indeed.” The thought, even though he was playacting, made Violet grow cold. She’d thought him dead in London, and that had upset her, but things were different now. Now she knew Daniel. He’d carved his way into her life, and losing him would be hard, too hard.

  “What then?” Daniel asked in genuine curiosity.

  Violet looked into the crystal again and shook her head. “I see poverty, I’m afraid, Mr. Mackenzie. Bone deep. You shivering in tiny rooms, a fire barely going. There’s a man—you owe him money. He’s beaten you and left you alone. But . . . ah . . . here is a woman. Your helpmeet, I think, though she is dressed in rags. Yes, she holds you, she weeps over you. You try to comfort her, but know you cannot. She is very pretty, this wife. Or once was. Her hair is blond . . .” Violet trailed off, moving her hand over the crystal as though trying to wave away the mists inside.

  Lady Victoria had gone pale. “That’s not a true vision. Mr. Mackenzie is ever so rich, and so is his father.”

  “Lost,” Violet said, making her voice dramatically low. “Everything lost. And his father casting him out.”

  “Aye.” Daniel sat back, shaking his head, the Glaswegian accent growing with every word. “It could come true. My gambling habit most like. I can’t get a bit of coin between me fingers I don’t want to toss on a horse or a turn of cards. I thought if I married a rich lady, it might help. But if your vision is real . . .”

  Lady Victoria made a pained noise and let go of Daniel’s arm. “Of course it isn’t real. She’s a fake. I said so.”

  Daniel looked bewildered. “No, ye said she was the real thing. But she’s likely right. I’d run through me poor wife’s fortune like it was wa’er.”

  “Honestly.” Lady Victoria rose to her feet, and Daniel, ever the gentleman, rose with her. Lady Victoria glared at Violet. “You ought to be ashamed of yourself. You don’t know anything. Excuse me, Mr. Mackenzie, I must attend my hostess.”

  She glided away, head high, but her feet moved quickly. Daniel saved his laughter until she’d gone out the door and into the bright hall.

  “You’re a wicked, mischievous minx, you are,” Daniel said, sitting down again. His smile was the warmest thing Violet had felt all night. “What am I to do with you?”

  She kept up her Romany persona. “I must speak what I see.”

  Daniel chuckled. “Do you know what I see?”

  Violet dropped the Romany accent and spoke in haughty, blue-blooded English tones. “I cannot imagine, Mr. Mackenzie.”

  Daniel slid the crystal on its stand toward him and peered into it with an expression so like that of the woman who’d taught Violet, she couldn’t stop her laughter.

  “I see a young woman wrapped in crimson scarves, meeting with a young man. He seems to be wearing a kilt, he does. And they’re . . . on a terrace. Interesting. When the clock strikes the half hour.”

  Violet’s voice was tight. “You can see that
far ahead, can you?”

  Daniel took a watch from his pocket, opened it, and nodded. “The half hour. Eighteen minutes from now. Let’s see if the fortune comes true, shall we?”

  He slid the watch back into his waistcoat, winked, rose, and strolled away, leaving Violet alone and breathless.

  Daniel watched Violet step out of the house to the terrace on the half hour exactly, and something tight eased in him. She’d bundled up in a big shawl over her costume, smart girl. The wind was icy.

  Daniel blessed his good fortune. He hadn’t thought she’d come.

  He’d had to waltz with a few more debutantes before he could break away. He’d excused himself to smoke, and he’d heard the comtesse praise his good manners to Ainsley as he walked away.

  Daniel had quickly passed the room set aside for gentlemen with cigars and whiskey, and emerged onto the terrace. Because it was frigidly cold, he was the only one of the party who’d dared the out-of-doors. He’d lit a cigar for verisimilitude and sucked its smoke while waiting.

  Daniel said nothing as Violet scanned the terrace then turned her steps toward him. Closer and closer, the moonlight in the clear sky touching her face and the red of her kerchief. She’d put something on her face to make her skin darker, but Violet’s eyes were just as blue behind the outline of kohl.

  “I think you lost me a potential wife in there,” Daniel said lightly when he reached her. “Who’s going to help me in me old age now?”

  Violet raised a brow. “Are you disparaging my ability to predict the future? The husband I saw for Lady Victoria was English, thin, and balding, with nothing to say but yes, dear, a hundred times a day.”

  Daniel burst out laughing. “I think you’ve hit on it. She’ll be happy as a lark.” He held his cigar out of the way and slid his arm around her waist. “Hell, Violet, you are ten times the woman of any here. Why do you do this?”

  Violet looked up at him, she utterly confident, strong, and unflinching, this wonderful lady. “To make a living, of course.”

  “You don’t need to, not like this. Putting up with insipid lords and ladies begging you to tell them that their perfect little lives will go on being perfect. Stop doing it, Vi. They don’t deserve you. Promise me no more fortune-telling.”

  Violet didn’t look impressed. “The comtesse has paid me a rather large fee. Plus I have all my tips.”

  “Why do you need the money so badly? What did you do with the wad you stole from me? Spend it at the horse races?”

  Now Violet blinked. She flushed behind her makeup. “I did take a little of the money you had in your pocket. About a hundred pounds in all, enough to get us away from England and settled here. I planned to pay you back, or your family, once I’d saved enough. And Mr. Mortimer his rent.”

  Daniel laughed again. “You’re precious, lass. So, you had me unconscious on your floor with about two thousand quid on me, and you peeled off a hundred and left the rest?”

  “I’d have picked a nicer boardinghouse if I’d taken more.”

  “You’re mad, you are. Why not take the lot?”

  Violet shrugged, looking troubled. “I’d hurt you—I didn’t know whether I’d killed you. It would look bad for me if I had robbed you too, and I thought your family should have the money.”

  “My family. Oh, God, you really believe that, don’t you? My family doesn’t give a horse’s balls about the money. Doesn’t matter—some light-fingered thief took the rest when I was a-lying out in the dark. You should have waited until I came to. I would have handed it over, anything to get you away from Mortimer. How the devil did I get to where the constable found me anyway?”

  The troubled look turned to one of pain, and shame. “A handcart. I dressed like a peasant and hid you under a few sacks of coal.”

  Daniel whooped. He tossed down his cigar, dragged Violet against him, and whirled her around. And around.

  “Vi, I think I love you. A cart? Sacks of coal? Oh, that is priceless.”

  “No, it isn’t. It’s horrible.”

  Around again. Wind tugged at Violet’s scarf, her body warm against Daniel in the cold. “No other woman in the world would think about carrying my body through the streets under sacks of coal and dumping it—and then leaving a great thick roll of banknotes for a street person to steal. Or maybe the constable took them. They don’t earn much, poor lads.”

  Violet braced herself on his arms as she gazed at him. “You can’t tell me you’re glad I did what I did.”

  “Mightily impressed. Even the most resilient women of my acquaintance would be fainting on the floor, or running about on the street screaming for help. You could have gone for a policeman and told him I’d tried to ravish you.”

  “But you hadn’t.” The desperation in her eyes hadn’t lessened. “You hadn’t done anything. And would a policeman have believed me? You’re a wealthy man, and I’m . . . who I am.”

  “Probably they wouldn’t. You did the right thing, running away before you were arrested. Your bad luck I’m related to the most obsessive man in the universe. Uncle Ian thought tracking down a woman with no name and no address, who disappeared into the night, an entertaining problem. Only Ian Mackenzie could have figured it out.” Daniel stopped spinning, lowering Violet in his arms. “My good luck.”

  “And then you took me ballooning.”

  “Aye, and it was grand.” Daniel touched the curve of her cheek.

  Violet’s lips still curved a little with the laughter they’d been sharing. Daniel leaned to her and kissed the half smile.

  Lips warmed where the air was cold. Daniel slid his hand under her scarf, finding the heavy softness of her hair.

  His heartbeat quickened as he opened her lips, taking the kiss to a deeper place. Violet’s breath touched his cheek, and her hands flattened to his chest. Daniel pressed his thumb to the corner of her mouth, licking behind her lip.

  The wind pushed at them, air from the sea and the land mixing to become a cold flow. Daniel wrapped his arms all the way around her, turning with her into the shadows. The terrace’s stone balustrade touched his legs, cold through wool.

  He ran his hands up Violet’s back, feeling her body bend into his. Her lips parted, her eyes soft and half closing. Her cheeks showed pink beneath the dark powder, which rubbed off on his glove.

  Violet’s kiss was smooth—gentle warmth. Daniel darted his tongue inside her mouth and tasted a bite of tea laced with honey. He licked again, wanting more.

  “Vi.”

  Violet’s hands curled on his chest as she looked up at him. Daniel read desire in the depths of her eyes, and uncertainty. His own heart was beating faster, pumping plenty of blood through his body.

  “We need to get away from here,” Daniel said. Somewhere, anywhere they could be alone.

  Hope left her face. “I can’t. We need the money. I can’t leave the post.”

  “Don’t worry, lass. I’ll retrieve your tips, and I’ll square it with the comtesse. She’s a friend of my stepmum’s. She’ll pay your fee.”

  “I already have the tips.” Violet patted a pocket of her skirt, which jingled. “I never leave the bowl unattended. Habit.”

  “Smart lady. If you have the goods, then let us be off, my lovely.”

  She didn’t move. “Your mother and father will grow angry with you. With me.”

  Daniel shrugged. “They’re used to me. I’m five-and-twenty, and not dependent on them for my living. I come and go as I please. Always have.” He leaned to her again. “Come away with me, Violet.”

  “Come away where?” she sounded desperate.

  “All the way to Marseille.”

  Not to his hotel, though. Gavina was no doubt curled up in Daniel’s bed, waiting for her brother to come home and tell her all about the ball. She’d been most put out she’d had to stay behind with her nanny tonight.

  Not
Violet’s boardinghouse. Daniel would not get her turned out for having a dalliance there. Not Richard’s rooms—Richard would either be entertaining ladies again, or resting. Hopefully resting.

  That left Daniel’s other retreat. Not in the nicest part of town, but it had the benefit of peace and quiet.

  Daniel took her hand. “Come on, then.”

  He started walking her toward the end of the terrace, but she pulled him to a stop. “Where are you going? The doors are behind us.”

  “I’m not escorting you back through the house and out, for all the world to see. Besides, love, we’re adventurers. We don’t need anything as common as doors.”

  He was glad to see Violet smile again, her breath steaming. “You’re an eccentric, Mr. Mackenzie.”

  Daniel took off his greatcoat, which he’d donned to come outside, and wrapped it around her. “Over we go.”

  He placed his backside on the stone balustrade—chilly through his kilt—grabbed Violet around the waist, and slid over with her to the ground a few feet below. The house was built on a slope, the terrace and ballroom nearly level with the ground in the back. Daniel had scouted this when he’d come out to the terrace to plan his escape.

  Violet let out a cry but stifled it as they landed in a rose garden, the roses pruned back for January. Mud squished under Daniel’s boots as he caught Violet and set her on her feet. He took her hand again, and they ran together to the cluster of carriages that waited near the house.

  Daniel found the coachman who’d driven him here with his father and Ainsley. The man looked up from keeping warm with a flask and conversation with his fellow coachmen.

  “Twice your fee tonight if you take me and my lady back to town,” Daniel said. “And return for my dad and stepmum without a word.”

  The coachman didn’t need to ponder. He slapped the stopper onto his whiskey flask and went to the coach, opening the door for them. Daniel handed Violet in, the coachman climbed to his perch, started the horses, maneuvered them out of the crush.