Page 29 of A Proposition for the Comte
Chapter Five
The note came the next morning just as Violet was about to leave the house with her sister-in-law for a stroll in Hyde Park. After reading the short message she tucked it firmly into her reticule.
She felt sick. She felt scared. She felt as if a terrible truth had finally escaped its tether and was now loose in the world to do as it willed with her. With them. With Amaryllis and her boys, their two lost faces raised up towards her.
There is no future for us now.
Had she just said this aloud? No. Amara still smiled and her maid handed over a warm woollen cloak without hesitation. An old cloak of violent green with a vibrant multicoloured brooch pinned near the collar.
Shockingly obvious. The overt and delicious taste of flaunting rules she’d felt just half an hour ago when choosing the garment now felt bitter in her mouth.
It was a target she had just painted upon her person. Hit me. Aim here. Do your best to wipe me off the face of the earth and any other person around me. Yet she could not exchange her cloak without having to explain such an action. Her taste in clothing had magnified exponentially since throwing off the black of mourning and Amara had challenged Violet on it on a number of occasions. Not in the mean way her brother would have, but in the way of a friend who was trying to protect her against the gossip of criticism.
Her hair this morning was pulled up beneath a purple hat, the plumes of some vibrant country bird streaming from the crown.
Another poor choice?
A further mistake.
Revenge is certain and you will be the next to die.
She felt the weight of the hammer in her hands even though the instrument of death had long since been disposed of. Well, she would not waver. Women were the steel and the steering rod of a family and if she had forgotten this once with Harland’s bullying then she would never do so again.
It was up to her to make sure that what was left of her family stayed safe and she was damned if anyone would hurt them again. Fury beat in her temples and anger sent her blood in fast and ever-widening circles.
‘You look flushed, Violet. I hope you are not sickening for the same malady of the chest that I was afflicted with?’
‘I am certain I am not, but perhaps we should leave the walk till tomorrow?’
‘If you feel unwell, my dear, then you must, but I will take a quick stroll to get the boys out for a few moments.’
The flame of hope for an easy retreat spluttered and died as Violet regrouped.
‘Then I shall accompany you, Amara, for fresh air is supposed to be a tonic for one’s health.’
The carriage was outside and waiting, a footman standing at attention near the opened door. Reidy was absent today and the young driver on the box tipped his head as she approached. Everything held peril. The openness of the small green opposite which could harbour a murderer, another conveyance passing down the street, the strangers who walked in this part of the road. It was as though she was open to every jeopardy.
She did have her wits, though, and the small sharp knife in her pocket that she seldom ventured anywhere without.
Michael and Simon were not toddlers, after all, and if there was trouble she could simply shout to them to run and stand the ground herself to make certain that they were safe. A dread began to gather, the cold of early February clinging to her bones, the same feeling she had had with Harland for all those years of being his wife.
Revenge is certain and you will be the next to die.
The note mentioned revenge. Revenge for what? For the gold and her part in breaking open the existence of such a betrayal? For Harland’s death or her hatred of everything he stood for? So many pathways of revenge. But why now after all these months should she suddenly feel threatened? What had changed?
The Comte de Beaumont had come into her life and she had known from the first moment of meeting him that he was a man to be reckoned with. Had he sent the note? She could not believe that he might have as there’d been so many private conversations between them to suit the purpose of threat so much better.
The death in Brompton Place had also been a part of all this, she was certain of it. Had the murder there heightened the stakes and pulled the thief from a shadow of silence?
‘You are quiet, Violet. I have had an offer from Mr Cummings to accompany him to the Vauxhall Gardens this coming Saturday. His sister and brother-in-law will be in the party. I think I shall accept the kindness.’
Lian’s words of warning came to mind and Violet frowned.
‘Harland was a close acquaintance, so perhaps I should not go?’ Amaryllis continued speaking, her tone uncertain as she took in Violet’s countenance.
‘I did not know that Mr Cummings and Harland were acquainted. He never came up to Addington Manor.’
‘It was in London that I saw him. You did not leave the country much, but I used to go down to the city quite often. It must have been here I was introduced to him.’
