Page 31 of A Proposition for the Comte
‘A questionable morality is what you are after, then?’
‘As long as it is also mindful of keeping things...private.’
Grabbing the bottle of cognac, Aurelian put it down on the table. ‘Stay here for five minutes before leaving.’
Then he was out of the door, calling for his horse to be brought around and hating the way his heart beat so fast he could feel it solidly thick in his throat.
He saw Lytton Staines and Edward Tully the moment he dismounted inside the park, the height of each of them singling them out in the crowd. Tying his horse to a post, he wandered across to them, doing his best to locate Violet.
Where was she? Was he too late already? Had the attack occurred in the first seconds of her being here, a far more professional set-up than Mountford had imagined?
Catching at the watch at his waist, he looked at the time. Three o’clock. A fashionable hour even on a fresh blue winter day with its smattering of sunshine. The promenading, peacocking and flirting was at its height, the aristocrats of London society drawn to Rotten Row as they partook in the complicated and important rituals of elevating themselves above all others in dress, conversation and appearance.
Where the hell was Violet? Lian peered through ankle-length drab coats and the gilded carriages travelling by, through the cloths of velvet and coloured wools and the unimaginable headgear of courtesans. The plainer attire of wives and mothers was prevalent also as was the rush of youths and children.
After a month of rain it was as if the world had suddenly blossomed in the sunshine. There would be above a hundred people here, he guessed. At least it was not the thousands that a summer afternoon in the high Season might have claimed.
He had a quick glimpse of Cummings through the crowd, the pinched face of Mountford’s junior fastened upon him. A number of others hung close, the rigid set of their shoulders telling Lian something of the structure of seniority in Cummings’s department. Men who would do as they were told. Men with too much to lose should they take a misstep.
No, it was not from this group that the threat would come. Cummings and his men were too out in the open, too obvious. It had to be someone else. Someone unremarkable and blended. He still had not seen Violet, though, and his worry mounted.
The park was busy at this time in the afternoon, full of riders and strolling groups. The winter sun had finally showed itself after weeks of grey coldness and people were making the most of this small strand of calm. It reminded Violet of some Bruegel painting, the camaraderie, the community, a moment caught in time even if the players in this tableau were better dressed and far more wealthy.
She made herself watch the faces and the way people moved. She was pleased when a friend of Amara’s came over to join them as her focus on anything untoward could be better applied with her sister-in-law deep in conversation. The boys had gone their own ways, too, melding with a group of other youths over by the Serpentine. She hoped they would stay there, safe.
She saw him at a distance, the Comte de Beaumont, walking with the Earl of Thornton and the Honourable Edward Tully. The three of them had the attention of every lady from one end of the path to the other. Aurelian de la Tomber looked indolent and relaxed, the smile on his face suiting his demeanour. In the sun, the dark of his hair had shades of red and russet and a lighter chestnut brown. She was glad he did not watch her though she was certain that he knew she was there.
Lian swore beneath his breath and stretched his mouth into a smile. Lady Addington looked like some advertisement for the wearing of bright colours in every garment she had on. If there was threat here it would have no trouble at all in finding her. He did not move closer for he wanted to watch the lie of the land.
Did she not realise the danger of it all? He thought perhaps she did for her stance was rigid, her right hand pushed into a pocket. Did she have a weapon? Could she use it? A cloud covered the sun momentarily, dousing the bright of the day into shadow.
A small group of elderly women were walking towards her. Nothing untoward there, he thought, and trawled more widely. There were so many damn trees in the park and even without their summer greenery the trunks were all wide enough to obscure someone.
Cummings was moving back to the gate behind him, signalling his men with him. Perhaps they had seen something? Aurelian’s glance took in a group of men at a further distance and a single gentleman walking at a slow pace along a parallel pathway.
‘You seem preoccupied, Lian?’ Lytton asked this and he made himself smile as he replied.
‘It’s the first good day in a while and there are many people out.’
‘Including the beautiful Addington widow?’
Edward Tully laughed. ‘Lady Addington has made it clear to all those who admire her that she has no time for suitors. She wants a quiet life. She told me that herself after I offered to accompany her to a luncheon party a few weeks back.’
Staines stopped in his tracks and frowned. ‘She has only just come out of mourning, Ed. She could hardly be seen on your arm given the recent death of her husband.’
‘He was a dolt. Nobody ever had any time for him.’
‘You knew him well?’ Lian looked over at Tully.
‘He was in my class at school. He was always very good at putting people down.’
Violet had turned now and was heading off towards the south end of the park, her sister-in-law and another woman ten yards behind her. Why had she done that? Lian wondered, even as the answer came with a rush.
She was frightened. She had seen someone further on. Somebody she did not want to meet. Someone she knew. The hand in her pocket had delved deeper now and her stride had lengthened.
His glance took in the single gentleman who was closer and the elderly women who were now stopped.
Excusing himself, he hurried across the grass, the ground thick with decaying autumn leaves. Not quite running, for such a motion would bring more attention than he welcomed.
