The Wicked Deeds of Daniel Mackenzie (32 page)

The brief stay in London was marred by only one incident, but that incident told Daniel that Violet was not as calm as she appeared.

It started innocently enough when the entire family gathered to take tea at Hart’s. The collective children were there, ten of them, from Mac’s adopted daughter, Aimee, who was going on twelve, to wee Lord Malcolm Ian Mackenzie, Hart’s youngest, at the tender age of three.

The children returned to the house with collective nannies, breathless from romping in the park of Grosvenor Square. They all liked Violet, so they mobbed her, Gavina claiming precedence to sit on her lap. Celine looked on indulgently, happy with the children as long as they stayed across the room from her.

Daniel watched Violet’s face soften as she listened to the clamor, lifting Ian’s daughter Megan onto her other knee. She looked around at them all, amazingly making sense of the mixed-up stories.

At one point, she asked into the chaos, “Where is Aimee?”

“Still in the park,” Eileen, Mac’s other daughter, announced. “She was playing with her hoop and didn’t want to leave. Not even for tea.” Her tone said,
Can you imagine?

Violet stilled, her face draining of color. “You left her out there alone?”

She set the two small girls on their feet, rose swiftly, and made for the parlor door. Without stopping to ask for her coat, she rushed through the hall and the foyer, opening the heavy front door herself.

“Vi,” Daniel was after her. “Where are you going?”

Violet turned as she stopped at the edge of the busy street, too many carriages preventing an easy crossing to the park. “Aimee can’t be left alone. She’s only twelve, Daniel. She can’t be alone.” Violet’s breath came too quickly, the panic in her eyes sharp.

Mac had come out after them, Eileen holding his hand. Eileen looked worriedly up at Violet. “It’s all right, Violet. We’re in a safe place. The park is only for the people who live here. And their guests.”

Violet shook her head, her words tumbling out. “Predators are everywhere. A young girl isn’t safe. We have to find her.”

Daniel grabbed Violet as she was about to dart into the path of a large landau. “We will, love. Don’t you worry.”

“She’s not wrong.” Mac, who was usually the most ready of the Mackenzies with a smile and a joke, looked grim. “She shouldn’t have stayed behind. But Aimee’s fearless.”

Mac stepped out into the same traffic, but he held up his hands, and people stopped. Daniel sent a protesting Eileen back into the house, caught Violet’s hand, and led her across after Mac.

Violet’s pupils were wide, her breathing hoarse as they made it to the inner part of the square and the park there. The gate was open, two nannies with their unruly charges having walked out and let it swing behind them.

Mac strode into the park, scanning the flat green and its walkways for Aimee.

A red-haired girl ran toward them, her blue skirts flapping, strong legs in high-laced boots moving rapidly. She pushed a hoop ahead of her with a stick, her face set in determined focus. Several boys about Aimee’s age, also pushing hoops, ran madly to keep up with her.

Aimee crossed a path and nearly ran into her father. She pulled up short, eyes shining, smile wide. Her hoop rolled on without her and fell flat into the grass. The other boys stopped, expressions disgruntled, their hoops rolling away.

“I won!” Aimee flung her arms around Mac. “Did you see me, Papa? I’m faster than any of them.”

“I did see, sweetheart.” Mac hugged her back and ruffled her hair. “You’re astonishing.”

Aimee danced happily out of her father’s embrace. “Did you see, Violet?” She stopped. “Violet, what’s wrong?”

Violet leaned on Daniel’s side, her hand to her chest. Daniel led her to the nearest bench and sat her on it. Aimee, concerned, came to sit beside her.

“It’s all right, Violet.” Aimee patted her hand. “You’ll feel better in a moment.”

“She was worried about you, pet,” Daniel said. “And she’s right. You shouldn’t have stayed out here alone.”

Aimee looked at him in confusion, and at Mac, who clearly agreed.

Innocence. Aimee had no idea what could happen to a twelve-year-old girl in this giant city—anywhere, in fact. Aimee had never known the horror of what Violet had experienced, and Daniel and all the Mackenzies would make certain she never did.

Aimee, still confused, patted Violet’s hand again. Violet looked at Daniel, tears in her eyes, but her breathing had slowed.

“Come on, love,” Mac said, holding his hand out to Aimee. “Let’s go home and make ourselves sick on too many cakes for tea.”

Aimee stood up readily. She ran and fetched her hoop then returned to Mac, took his hand, and walked out of the park beside her adoptive father, a spring in her step again.

Daniel took Aimee’s place on the bench and folded his hands around Violet’s. “All right now, lass?”

“I’m sorry.” Violet drew a long breath. “I grow angry at my mother for her hysterics, and here I am, having them myself.”

“For good reason. I don’t want Aimee to ever feel anything but safe, which means we should have been more diligent watching her. And Mac will be, you can be certain.”

Violet shook her head. “I’m never going to be free of this, am I?”

“The panicking? You are. Because you’re with me now, and I’m going to keep you absolutely safe.”

Violet looked skeptical, not because she thought Daniel was lying, he understood, but because no one had ever protected her before.

But none of that mattered. Daniel would protect her, he vowed, from this day to forever. Whether Violet believed him or not.

Celine, at the last possible minute, refused to go to Berkshire. The country frightened her. It was too big, too wet, too terrifying. She liked cities with modern houses, parlor stoves, and good plumbing. In short, Violet thought in irritation, she’d found a cushy billet with the duke and didn’t want to leave it. But Celine also expected Violet to stay with her. She couldn’t do without her Violet.

Before Violet could argue, beg, or resign herself to being her mother’s drudge again, she learned exactly how determined the Mackenzie family could be.

Violet was going with Daniel and the family to Berkshire, and that was that. If Celine wanted to stay in London, she could remain at the duke’s house as long as she pleased. Eleanor and Hart were staying in London for a time, as were Isabella and Mac, the two couples having social obligations they couldn’t yet leave. Ainsley and Cameron, Beth and Ian, the children of all four families, and Daniel and Violet, on the other hand, were going to Berkshire, come what may.

When this was explained to Violet’s mother, firmly, by Eleanor, Celine turned surprisingly obedient. Of course Violet should have time with her friends in the country, Celine said. Mary, who also had a horror of the country, would remain with her to look after things. And Celine could cultivate the duchess’s friends as new clients. She’d again become the most sought-after medium in fashionable London.

Violet had her misgivings about that, but Eleanor, the duchess, with her lovely blue eyes and wide smile, took over.

“Indeed, my friends will love her,” Eleanor said. “Madame Celine is quite a wonderful medium. She’s called forth my great-great-grandmother Finella, and we even reached the legendary Malcolm Mackenzie, the only member of the Mackenzie family to survive the Forty-Five—that was the Scottish uprising under Bonnie Prince Charlie, Violet. His Highland Scots was so thick that the little spirit guide—what’s her name—Adelaide—could barely understand him. Hart says it’s all nonsense, but he had quite an interesting chat with old Malcolm, asked him for advice about the estate and the distillery and other things. Malcolm said he was flattered we’d named our youngest son after him. We all had a lovely time.”

Eleanor related this with a mischievous twinkle in her eyes, and Violet felt better. If anyone could keep Celine in check, it would be the Duchess of Kilmorgan.

Violet enjoyed the short train journey to Berkshire, in which she was again surrounded by children.

Gavina had long since decided that Violet was one of the family. Danny would marry her, and they would have babies, and Gavina could help look after them.

“Only until I grow up,” Gavina said confidently to Violet as she sat next to her in the train compartment. “Then I’m going to be a jockey.”

“Girls can’t be jockeys,” Jamie said in his resigned, I’m-older-than-you-and-know-better manner.

Jamie, as the oldest Mackenzie son, had the awe of the others. Never mind that five-year-old Lord Hart Alec Mackenzie was the actual heir to the dukedom. Alec didn’t seem at all conscious that he was the social superior of his cousins. Jamie, Ian’s son, had the rule of them. From what Violet observed while staying with Ian and Beth, Jamie had inherited his father’s intelligence as well as his mother’s spirit.

“Dad says I can be the best rider he’s ever trained,” Gavina returned hotly. “Angelo says so too, and Dad’s jockeys aren’t too proud to give me advice. You see if I’m not a jockey, Jamie Mackenzie.”

“All right, Gavina,” Ainsley said. “You have made your declaration. Now be polite. We have a guest.”

“Violet isn’t a guest, Mummy,” Gavina scoffed. “She’s going to marry Danny.”

Fortunately, Daniel was in a different compartment with Ian and Cameron and couldn’t see Violet blush.

“The Mackenzie men can rather bowl you over,” Beth said gently to Violet as Ainsley continued to quiet the argument. “Daniel is no different from his uncles. You believe your life is plodding along, and suddenly you are places you never thought you’d be.”

“Gracious, yes,” Ainsley said, turning back to the adult conversation. “But make certain it’s your choice, Violet, and make sure Danny knows it. The Mackenzies can be very . . . persuasive.”

Violet was aware that the children had stopped arguing and were listening as hard as they could.

“They can be,” Violet said. “And you are right about finding myself in places I never thought I’d go. For instance, I’ve never been to Berkshire.”

Ainsley and Beth, and what children were in the compartment with them, laughed, and the moment eased.

The journey to the middle of Berkshire itself wasn’t long, but sorting themselves into coaches and carts to reach the house once they arrived at the Hungerford train station took much time. All the children wanted to go with Violet, but there wasn’t room, and compromises had to be made.

Finally Cameron dictated who would go where, in a manner that brooked no argument. Violet went off with Beth and Ian, their children, and their two dogs to a house that was old, huge, and rambling.

In spite of its size, the house had a homey feel, much like Beth and Ian’s London house did. Each family had its own suite in upstairs rooms—Ian walked straight up to theirs, barely giving a nod to the staff who came out to greet them.

Violet found she’d been given two rooms to herself, a little sitting room and a bedroom next to it with a wide, canopied bed. The windows of both overlooked a slope of ground down to the canal at the base of a meadow. The air was soft, the hills gentle, trees lining fields tinged with green. All was beauty, quiet, peace.

Violet wanted to embrace that peace to her and never let it go. To this point, her life had stretched before her, bleak and predictable, a straight road, gray and empty. Now the path was obscured with uncertainty. Violet knew that when she broke through this obscuring thicket, she might find the road straight and empty again. And the thought terrified her.

But the next week was the happiest of Violet’s life. Every morning after breakfast, she accompanied Daniel to the shed to work on the motorcar.

Daniel had no intention of having Violet simply watch him work—he expected her advice and opinions, and her help. Their hands together held bolts and sockets, rods and gaskets, or smeared grease on bearings. Violet got filthy and tired, but then Daniel would look up at her, give her his searing smile, hook an arm around her, and pull her close for a kiss.

The casual intimacy drove her wild. Daniel did nothing more than kiss her, though those kisses were full of promise and wickedness.

She and Daniel didn’t spend all their time in the shed, however. Daniel worked plenty with his father with the horses, as he was a partner in his father’s training business. Violet was also drawn into Ainsley’s and Beth’s activities, and those of the children.

When Violet said innocently at supper one night that she’d never been on a horse, a ripple of horror went around the table. The Mackenzie brood, as usual, ate supper with the adults, though the littlest ones had already been put to bed.

“You’ve never been on a
horse
?” Eileen, Isabella’s daughter, asked. She wrinkled up her face. “How can someone never have been on a horse?”

“Not everyone’s uncle runs a racing stable,” Ainsley said, admonishing. “Different people have different lives, Eileen.”

Eileen stared in frank astonishment. That a person could live without horses apparently had never occurred to her.

“That’s all right, Eileen,” Violet said quickly. “I’ve always lived in cities, you see. And I travel quite a lot. I’ve never had the opportunity to learn to ride. We always go in coaches or trains.”