Love & Murder: A Violet Carlyle Historical Mystery (The Violet Carlyle Mysteries Book 19) Read online

  Love & Murder

  A Violet Carlyle Historical Mystery

  Beth Byers

  Contents

  Author’s Note

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Sneak Peek of Bright Young Witches & the Restless Dead

  Also By Beth Byers

  Author’s Note

  The events of Valentine’s evening and the jewel thief referenced in the first chapter are available in Mystery on Valentine’s Day co-written with the fabulous Lee Strauss.

  Chapter 1

  “Let’s just go home,” Jack suggested as they left the Savoy. Once the ruckus of stolen jewelry had passed, they’d enjoyed an excellent dinner, but they had intended to go to one of their favorite dancing clubs. Or at least, Violet had intended for them to do so. She lifted her brow at him as their car approached.

  “Really?” Violet asked.

  Jack’s eyes glinted in a way that told Violet he was up to something. It could just be that it was Valentine’s evening, but she thought it might be something else. He tugged her after him towards their auto where Hargreaves had driven them out for the evening. She winked at their butler and sometime-driver and leaned forward to tell him of the stolen jewelry and meeting Ginger Gold and her husband, noting that Hargreaves hadn’t asked where they were going. He had, instead, immediately turned the auto home.

  Yes, Violet thought, Jack was up to something and Hargreaves was in on it. Hargreaves listened to her tale, weaving their auto through the dark London streets. He asked questions until Vi finally revealed who the thief had been.

  “No!” he said as she described the final capture of the thieves.

  Violet leaned back, mischief filling her expression. “You know—Hargreaves, you need a lady.”

  “Maybe he has one,” Jack said. “Ignore her, Hargreaves. Follow your own course.”

  Violet elbowed Jack for interrupting her teasing. “Then why did he volunteer to look after us tonight rather than spoiling her? He needs to find a lady. We have other fellows who could have driven us and our Hargreaves should have been the last of those who was working.”

  Jack shook his head and told Hargreaves, “Don’t mind her, my friend.”

  Hargreaves shifted and then said, “Jimmy is proposing this evening. Flowers, champagne, all the trimmings. I am working so young Jimmy can sweep his beloved off her feet.”

  Violet gasped and then eyed Jack. “So he’s not going with some random proposal on the seashore?”

  Jack groaned as Hargreaves laughed, but he tugged her under his arm. “I think you cried when I randomly proposed on the seashore.”

  “I’m sure I didn’t,” Violet lied as Jack pressed a kiss to her temple and then another to the palm of her hand.

  Jack grunted, not bothering to counter her lies.

  “But if you did have a lady,” Violet said seriously to Hargreaves. “She’d be welcome in our home.”

  Hargreaves had a tinge of a blush on his cheeks as he stopped the auto outside of their home. “I appreciate that, Mrs. Vi,” he said as he handed her out of the car. Jack followed, tugging her up the steps with him. As one of the maids opened the front door, her gaze glittering with sheer excitement, Violet turned to Jack and waited. Her expression made it clear that she knew something was up.

  “My lady,” Molly said, as she took Violet’s coat. “A present arrived.”

  Violet turned to the parlor where the maid indicated and her jaw dropped as she saw a good dozen bouquets of roses and lilies. She walked into the flower wonderland, letting her fingers trail over the flowers, and then she turned back to Jack.

  His gaze was narrowed, hands on his hips, and his jaw flexing. He was a large man with broad shoulders. In her mind, she’d thought of him often as a mountain of a man, and at the moment, her mountain seemed a little volcanic.

  “Jack?” Her voice was low and soft. “What’s wrong?”

  “Who are they from?”

  “What?” she asked, frowning. “They’re not from you?”

  He shook his head. He rubbed his hand over the back of his neck, and she knew it was to hide his fury. He wasn’t worried that she was cuckolding him. She was sure of that.

  She couldn’t help but skip her mind through the possibilities. For a gift of this amount? She could only imagine Jack, her twin, or her father. But her twin had sent her a signed set of Edgar Rice Burroughs books and a painting he’d had someone make of her favorites, Tarzan and Jane. Her father rarely thought of remarking on any holiday, but he had, actually, sent her a gift. She’d received quite a lovely bouquet of flowers and chocolates just that morning.

  “I have no idea.” Violet examined the flowers with far less delight as she looked for the card. She found it in the final bouquet. She opened the envelope with Jack leaning over her shoulder. “Who would send me this but you?”

  The answer was not what she expected:

  With utter devotion.

  Yours—

  “What does that mean?” Jack asked. “Devotion? Why is some bloke sending you flowers? Why is some man—” He said ‘man’ like it was an insult, “—sending you something romantic on Valentine's Day?”

  “Why didn’t he sign it?” Violet demanded. “Who sent this?” Violet gestured to the flowers behind them. “They all mean varying expressions of love if you consider the language of flowers. Some—” She didn’t finish when she saw the look on his face, but some meant passionate love. Given that they were all various meanings of love, but none that meant friendship or platonic love, she didn't think it was a mistake. It wasn’t just a florist assuming. This was a message, and it made her shudder.

  Jack tucked her close to him as Molly tremulously spoke up. “I—”

  Jack and Vi turned to the maid and found Hargreaves tugging her from the parlor. Jack pulled Violet even closer, his hand spread over her back as if he were protecting her from something unseen. The maid whispered to Hargreaves, but he didn’t stop removing her from the parlor. Jack cursed. “Hargreaves, find out if we know where they came from, even if you have to visit all the different flower shops in London.”

  It was a momentous task but Hargreaves didn’t flinch.

  “If you find the place, bribe them to find out who ordered the flowers. Whatever it costs—”

  “Jack…” Violet started, hoping to calm him down. He was already stiff and his fingers were curled into her back as if he couldn’t hold her tight enough. “This doesn’t have to be something nefarious.”

  “Violet,” he countered. His tone was low and furious, but it wasn’t directed at her. “This isn’t jealousy, it’s worry. The hair is standing up on the back of my neck.”

  “But why? What harm are flowers?”

  “You shuddered when you realized what this was.” He spoke softly—almost too gently. “Why?”

  She frowned and then pulled away from him to pace among the flowers. Two bouquets on the fireplace mantel, three on the small table behind the Chesterfield, one on either table near the chairs. She nibbled her thumb and then found herself
twirling her wedding ring around her finger. Finally she said, “I can’t imagine who might have sent them. We have only been in London since the new year. Is it someone we’ve known forever? Is it some new person? We haven’t been associating with new people regularly. Why would someone we’ve known for a while proclaim their feelings now?”

  He nodded, and she realized that his worries matched her own. Something wasn’t right with this. Hargreaves entered the parlor again and said something low to Jack.

  “What I had planned is ready, if you’d like?” His hand was held out to her and she realized all sense of romance and holiday had fled. What she wanted was to curl up with him, near a fire, with a book. It was so much easier to ignore what was bothering her with a good book to read.

  Violet took his hand and noted his gaze turning towards the table where the three bouquets were.

  There was a small gift, wrapped in white paper, that she hadn’t noticed amid the shock of all the flowers. She knew that Jack wanted her to ignore it, but she let go of his hand to tear open the paper and open the box.

  It was a ring with a large emerald cut ruby surrounded by small diamonds, fine enough to serve as an engagement ring. She knew enough about jewelry to feel certain that its value rivaled the value of her actual engagement ring. Violet shoved the ring back as though it were a poisonous snake. It wasn’t just the hair on the back of Jack’s neck that had risen. She was covered in gooseflesh and felt sick at the bottom of her stomach.

  “What the devil?” Jack muttered. He looked down at her and then in a switch, took her hand and pulled her over his shoulder, so she was hanging low on his back.

  “Jack!” Her squirming didn’t affect his hold on her in the least. “What are you doing?”

  He didn’t reply, but he climbed the stairs, bypassing their bedroom and heading up a second flight. Violet squirmed a little more, but she couldn’t help but laugh. She looked back down the stairs and found Hargreaves, staring after them with a wide grin on his face instead of his usual impervious expression.

  He walked into the ballroom, not putting her down until they reached the center. She gasped as he slid her to the floor. The entirety of the ballroom was surrounded by hundreds of candles—tall, short, in candelabras and or on porcelain plates on the floor. The wireless was already playing her favorite jazz music. To the side of the room, there was a small table where champagne was sitting in an ice bucket, and she could see a tiered tray of small sweets. She had little doubt they’d be her favorite, bite-sized sweets.

  “Jack—” Violet breathed. “It is magical.”

  He lifted her hand to him and then pulled her into a dance. The tension of what they’d found in the parlor faded as he spun her around the floor, and despite the lingering sense of discomfort, she focused on what she loved. Him, their home, real love, and the happiness that was her life. Even when things were blue, she recognized how lucky she was. When things were good, as they had been lately, she was astounded by how blessed her life was.

  Chapter 2

  “What the—” Jack snapped his mouth closed, not moving to take the flowers from the delivery boy’s hands.

  Violet peeked around Jack’s shoulder to see the bouquet. After the day before’s red iris and today’s Rose of Sharon, Jack had moved from maybe to certainty that whoever was sending these things wanted Violet’s returned devotion. He took the bouquet and threw it, and the delicate lavender petals lay torn against the brick sidewalk.

  “Oh Jack,” Violet murmured.

  He turned on her, furious, but she knew it wasn’t directed at her. “Do you know what those things mean?”

  She did, but she had also seen the flower language dictionary in his jacket pocket. She didn’t answer as she knew he needed to get the rage out.

  “Vi! Red iris means that he burns for you.”

  She handed the poor delivery boy a full pound note and jerked her head for him to flee. He looked at her with gratitude and ran down the path and out the gate.

  Jack cursed and then grumbled, glaring at the tattered blossoms. “That one means that they’re consumed by their feelings for you.”

  Violet glanced back to Hargreaves, who watched them both with his even expression, but his gaze was as worried as Violet’s. She left Jack in the doorway and asked Hargreaves, “Perhaps something calming. Chamomile? Hot milk?”

  Jack growled at her, and she laughed, trying to lighten the tension as she bypassed the parlor where it was possible to see the front door and headed for the library instead. Jack paced behind her with the furious grace of a panther. Violet turned and asked, “Should we go to the zoo?”

  He frowned at her, still fixated on the flowers he left on the walkway for Hargreaves to deal with. “Maybe we should return to the country.”

  Violet shook her head. She had a meeting that required her attendance with her man of business. Most of the time, her former maid, Beatrice, could take over for Vi but not this time. “I have that meeting on Monday.”

  Jack glanced at her with a look that said she was in charge of arranging such things. She was, of course, and she could reschedule, but it was foolish to be chased away from her home because of flowers. She flopped into one of the chairs near the fire and asked Hargreaves as he passed the library to have coffee and a tray of sandwiches sent in with Jack’s tea.

  “Why don’t we go to Algie’s party tonight?”

  “I don’t know, Vi—” Jack looked at her with that same worry-filled gaze that was starting to haunt her at all times.

  “We can’t be imprisoned because of a…a…bit of puppy love, Jack.”

  “And if it’s something more? I know you’ve been thinking of Harriet as well.”

  Violet had been. Of course she had. The poor girl had received letters that showed far too much interest in her every movement and behavior. Harriet had decided to leave her village, and she’d been punished by strangling. The fellow had then turned his attentions to Violet’s sister-in-law, Kate. It was only after both Violet and Kate had been injured that they’d caught the fellow.

  “That doesn’t mean that someone thinks the same way about me, Jack.” Violet would have crossed her fingers to show her hope, but she knew that Jack would latch onto her instincts. The truth was that something wasn’t right and her concern had been growing steadily for days. She’d come to flinch at the ringing of the doorbell.

  She didn’t want to work counter to her husband, she thought suddenly.

  What was she doing? Trying to allay his fears and hiding her own?

  “Jack,” she said quietly. “I am spooked. But I’m also concerned that if we leave, he’ll either simply follow or pop up again when we’re least expecting it.”

  “He’s trying to not be caught.” Jack ran his hand over the back of his neck and then rose. This time it was he who was pacing and Violet who was watching. “Hargreaves and then Smith visited flower shop after flower shop. He comes in with his hat low, thick spectacles, and leaves a false name with the shop. He’s used a different shop every time. It’s maddening.”

  Violet fiddled with her wedding ring until the coffee arrived, and then she poured herself a large cup, breathing in the fumes, and considering on what they should do.

  “Jack, there has to be a way for us to find this fellow. We’ve found murderers. This is just a—I don’t know—nothing more than an unwanted flower sender. As much as he bothers me and brings to mind bad memories, all we truly have for certain is flowers with no name on the card.”

  Jack frowned, but he nodded. “Well, let’s go to Algie’s party, shall we? We can listen to your fool of a cousin who will probably tell you there is nothing to worry about.”

  “Is Ham back?” Violet asked and then winced when Jack shot her a dark look. “Not because I don’t trust your opinion. I just thought you’d feel better to bounce ideas off of him.” And to join them at the party as another set of eyes, just in case she was being followed, too. That was an unnerving thought.

  Jack hooked t
he back of her neck and pulled her forward to kiss her forehead. “Nothing will happen to you.”

  “How could it with you looking after our family so carefully?”

  “I can’t see that there’s anything much to worry about,” Algie giggled as his wife twirled with one of the members of the jazz band. The poor man had taken a break. He probably needed a drink and a smoke, and Clara had dragged him into a fast dance with the fringe on her dress flying.

  “I regret my dress,” Violet said, glancing down. It was tucked close to her body, a deep purple with black beading that created a slithering snake made of shimmering beads at the hem of her dress. It did not, however, have any fringe.

  “She does look fabulous, doesn’t she?” Algie agreed. “I’m a lucky man.”

  “You are,” Violet said. “She’s far too witty for you.”

  “She likes my joy.” Algie shook his head and his giggle had Violet grinning in return. “Come meet all my friends, Vi love. You’ll feel better in the end.”

  Violet winked at Jack and let her cousin pull her into the crowd. The moment they were away from Jack, Algie demanded, “Where is Victor? Why isn’t he here when we’re rallying round our Vi?”

  “Kate is so sick.” Vi shook her head. “I won’t add to his burden.”

  Algie lifted a brow and then swung her in a circle as if they were turning in a dance before he bellowed, “My fellows! Come! Meet my cousin.”

  Algie glanced at Violet. “Surely you know Preston Bates?”

  Violet followed Algie’s gaze and she shook her head. He was taller even than Jack but rail slim. Vi was sure she’d never met this Preston before, but then she noticed a rather large mole on his jawline. It had to be the size of a sixpence coin. “Oh! I do remember his face,” she murmured quietly to Algie, then louder as the man joined them. “It’s been so long.”