Page 50 of A Proposition for the Comte
‘He is a man who needs good friends, I think, and I am gladdened that you are one.’
With that he moved off, with an air of solidness and certainty. As people watched him she wondered just exactly what his wife, Celeste, was like under the surface, for she could not imagine the Viscount with anyone ordinary.
Moving herself, she made for the side of the room to glance out of the tall and balconied windows hung tonight with wreaths of greenery. She knew the second that Aurelian joined her, a heightened sense of excitement coursing through her body as she saw his reflection in the window.
Out of the earshot of the others he leaned down across her. ‘I hope you are well, Lady Addington?’
The formality of her name made her frown.
‘I think I have been better, my lord.’ She was tired of pretending. ‘I had heard that you’d left town altogether.’
‘Hardly.’
She suddenly did not know quite how to handle this. His arm touched hers where they stood, the shock of connection burning across uncertainty.
‘I missed you.’ His words. Unexpected.
All the people around them simply fell away, into the mist. It was as if it was only they and the music floating around the room.
‘I missed you, too.’
She could not hold it in, this honesty that admitted far too much.
The tune swirled, the colours of silks and satins blending. Her own dress was part of it, as well, the lace was embellished with something she herself had sewn on just last night. Aurelian’s hand pressed against the small of her back and she could feel each finger there.
‘Would you dance with me?’
When she nodded he led her on to the floor. She could feel a wave of notice all around her, the buzz of conversation loud. His hand came into hers then as he brought her around to face him.
‘My sister-in-law departed for Italy yesterday.’
He breathed out hard. She could feel the air against the top of her head even as he said nothing.
Come tonight and find me, Aurelian. Come and show me all the things that you did before.
‘You will be safe alone. I have seen to it.’
Only this. Disappointment blossomed.
Why the hell had he just told her he missed her? It had slipped out unbidden as soon as he had touched her arm, her aloneness worrying him.
She wore the same dress he had seen her in when she had picked him up off the road in Brompton Place, but this time a different lace had been sewn across the bodice. He could make out the catch of stitches in the light. A new question. A further oddness. If Violet had been the one to hide a veritable fortune in gold, she would hardly need to be so penny pinching in her choice of clothing.
God, the questions kept coming and now here in the most unlikely of settings came a new realisation that even if she were the perpetrator behind the lost gold he would protect her.
From everyone.
‘Did you find out more of George Taylor?’ Her query startled him.
‘His luggage was stolen on the road south after he left Chichester. A robbery would allow his death some sense. Gold, while heavy, is still a portable fortune and, should you wish, easy to hide away from the notice of others.’
‘Are you implying someone has?’
He began to laugh. ‘If they have, my advice to them would be to mind their backs. The French gold has made corpses of many so far, but people always leave clues. In my job it’s one of the first things you ever learn.’
Violet thought that his eyes looked like a hawk angling for its prey and she shivered with the realisation.
The camaraderie in her bedroom at the town house in Chelsea seemed replaced by a more brittle regard and a wariness that held the scent of suspicion. His body was like a stringed instrument tuned in to danger, every small nuance noted and vibrating against truth.
