Wedding Vows & Murder Page 6

  Victor glanced Vi over. “Stiff upper lip, darling. These things happen with cocktails.”

  Vi took a deep breath in. There was something ineffably painful in having someone who knew her well enough to read the depths of her, who loved her, and felt her hurt with her.

  “How did he know you were having a party?” Rita demanded, fury shrouding her movements and tone. “None of you would have invited him.”

  “A very good question,” Victor said, placing a steadying hand on Violet’s lower back. His fingers dug in enough to help anchor her.

  “Hmm,” Ham mused, his too sharp gaze on Violet. “Shall we go after them?”

  “He has a cigar in his coat,” Victor answered. “I’m sure Jack will smoke it and walk off his temper.”

  “Of course he will,” Ham agreed. “I’m always game for one those Cuban cigars of his.”

  Both of them looked to Violet, who repeated Rita’s question from before. “How did Theo know we were having a party?”

  “I told him,” Robert Roche answered without a shade of regret. “If you won’t help me willingly, perhaps you’ll help yourselves in getting rid of him.” Behind Robert Roche stood Vi’s cousin Algie and his fiancé, Clara.

  Chapter Seven

  “Oh no, Father Roche!” Algie said, shooting Violet a pleading look that begged her to see him as innocent.

  “Daddy!” Clara scolded. Her gaze was curious and fixed on Violet.

  “We need the best. Algie says these two are the best. This nonsense of Theo trying to blackmail our family needs to stop before it causes real damage.”

  “Mr. Barnes,” Rita snapped, “is on the case. He’s an excellent investigator.”

  “He’s not who Algie said was the best.”

  “He is, however, Jack’s boss and friend,” Rita said, shocked. She sounded as if she couldn’t believe that Mr. Roche was such a dullard.

  Violet breathed more deeply, grateful that the attention had turned from her to Roche. She needed a moment. Just a little moment. It wasn’t as if she’d expected that Jack had never…she knew that wasn’t the case. It was just…it was just…oh!

  “I don’t know how you do things in America,” Violet told Roche coolly, forcing herself to focus on him rather than on her racing thoughts. “Thrusting yourself into our lives and demanding your way and our help will not be a successful tactic.”

  “It’s not the American way,” Clara said, still giving her father furious looks. “It’s Father’s way! Papa, this is my new family. How could you?” She crossed her arms and stomped a foot, looking like a child throwing a fit. “They’ll never accept me now, and Algie simply idolizes them!”

  “You aren’t the only duckling in my nest, duckie,” Mr. Roche told her flatly. “You know that—” He trailed off at the sight of Gertrude, Barty’s fiancé, and lamely finished, “I care about all of my children.”

  “Then,” Lila told him too loudly, “you would put all of them in your will and remove certain issues.” She cared very little that she’d turned the attention to Barty. “Look at that. One simple change,” Lila added, “and the problem is solved. We can all go back to our lives without Theo or you.”

  Violet shook her head and crossed to the bar, demanding a drink while servants swept up the broken glass. She needed to get away from Victor’s ability to telepathically read her, and from Roche before she murdered him in front of the crowd. “Ginger wine.”

  The barman glanced at her. “I’m afraid I don’t have that.”

  “It’s the bottle with the stars at the back of the bar,” Violet told him. “Pour me a rather generous glass.”

  He lifted his brows but didn’t argue. Violet hadn’t been the one who hired him, and she hadn’t interacted with him yet, so he had no idea that this was her house or that her maid had ensured that her favorite ginger wine was available in every bar in the house. It didn’t matter.

  A few people had gamely started skating again, and as Violet walked back to her party with her ginger wine, she reflected that she might not have christened her house with the right kind of party, but at least she wasn’t bored.

  Rouge bounded out from under Kate’s chaise lounge where Victor’s wife was sitting as Violet approached.

  “Are you all right?”

  “Sure,” Vi lied. “How are you feeling? How are your poor feet?”

  “Not too fast, Violet. Are you all right?”

  “Sure,” Vi lied again, pasting on a failure of a smile.

  “You know that Jack isn’t as innocent as you are, don’t you? He’s quite a bit older than us.”

  “No woman wants a face to go with the names, Kate. My frivolous christening of my home was ruined by a rude American and—once again—that snake Theo. But I’m fine.”

  Kate scoffed.

  “I’ll be fine,” Violet told her. “Let’s leave it be, shall we?”

  “Of course,” Kate said, with a weighty gaze that promised she’d wind back around to Violet’s feelings and prod them until certain Vi was in good shape.

  “Where did the Americans go?” Violet asked, glancing towards where Denny, Lila, Isolde, Tomas, and Victor were watching Vi carefully. Algie was speaking quickly to Victor, but Vi could tell that Victor wasn’t listening. Clara, Algie’s fiancé, was standing next to her beloved, nodding. “She really does love him, doesn’t she?”

  “Yes, she does love him. It’s clear she’s besotted with Algie for some odd reason. The rest of her family, though? They scattered when you just spun on your heel and stalked off. The elder Roche said they’d let you get your womanly ways in hand and wait for the hysterics to settle.”

  Vi’s gaze narrowed, and she stared at Kate, who was fighting a grin. Instead of giving that the response it deserved, Violet sipped her ginger wine. Rouge leapt up onto the chaise lounge where the two of them sat side-by-side. Vi was far too aware of the sympathetic and smirking glances that were sent her way.

  They weren’t really talking, but Violet kept a cherry grin on her face to keep her emotions to herself.

  Lila appeared with the bottle of ginger wine while Denny leaned against the wall, holding out a plate of small bites of sweets. Vi took one of the petit fours that belonged at an afternoon tea more than a roller-skating party. When one was entirely out of the norm with a party, Vi had decided that offered bites could be as frivolous as the roller skates.

  “Has anyone seen Jack yet?” Denny asked. “Maybe we should go look for him.”

  Vi wanted nothing more than to look for him, but she had too many alert gazes on her. There would be even more whispers if she went to hunt him down. Now was the time for lingering sips of wine, pretending to laugh, and watching for the Roches. She didn’t intend to help them, but she wouldn’t mind scuppering their plans. Perhaps she could find Gertrude on her own and explain that her ‘righteous’ fiancé was a gold-digging, amoral blackguard.

  “I’m sure he’s fine,” Violet said. “Ham would be out there if he thought Jack needed someone. If anyone has ever seen Jack truly upset, it would be Ham.” She glanced over and saw Ham standing with Rita. Both of them were watching Vi, and when she met their gazes, theirs jerked away. Ah, Vi thought, even Ham and Rita were talking about her.

  She sighed and stood, reaching down to scratch Rouge’s ears, noting that her ribbon and broach had turned a little. Vi corrected it and tucked her dog under her arm. Maybe she’d just go ask Victor or Ham to check on Jack. It had been a good half of an hour. Wasn’t that enough time to cool off, smoke your cigar, and come back to put on a happy face for their guests?

  Vi felt certain that it was. Tucking Rouge a little more firmly, she crossed to Victor. He was standing with Algie still, and they were talking quietly.

  “What’s going on?”

  Victor avoided her gaze.

  “Sleuthing, brother?”

  “You aren’t the only witty one.”

  “The only one,” Violet shot back, “who has ever felt that was true was she whose name I won’
t repeat while so many people are watching my every move.”

  “Oh,” Algie muttered. “I really didn’t think he’d be quite so—”

  “Careful now.” Victor slapped Algie’s shoulder. “That’s the future in-law. They control more of your happiness than you know. Better to not make any enemies.”

  “I say,” Algie muttered again, shooting Vi a blushing, apologetic look. “I say, Vi, I—”

  She shook her head and tucked a loose hair back into her headpiece. “We know you too well for that, Algie darling. Your Clara is simply lovely.”

  Algie beamed under her compliment. She glanced around, hoping that Jack had returned. He wasn’t there and neither were any of Algie’s people. Where were they? Had they left? Or were they snooping through her house? Given the number of servants in the ballroom and entrance, she doubted anyone would notice of someone were wandering the halls they hadn’t been invited into.

  “Why isn’t the nephew in the will?” Vi asked, voicing the question that had been bothering her since Lila pointed out the obvious issue.

  “Yes, well—” Algie said, blushing.

  “They aren’t about, old man,” Victor assured him. “I’ve kept a ready eye so I wouldn’t have to remove Violet from trying to claw their eyes out.”

  “Barty’s a bit the prodigal son,” Algie admitted. “Roche built his fortune, it’s true. Only so did his brother. The brother died early and left Barty an heir as soon as he turned eighteen years old.”

  “Ohhh,” Vi said, “bit of a prodigal son?”

  Algie winced and nodded. “Lost it all on wine, women, and gambling. The only reason it isn’t wide news is that he did it all in Havana. Even married a girl there who died in childbirth. I don’t think even Gertrude realizes that the baby is half-Cuban. She just assumes that he fell in with some British girl or something. Romanticized it and all.”

  Vi’s gaze narrowed on her cousin, who flushed.

  “Not that it isn’t a romantic tragedy,” he tried again, and Vi nodded.

  “I suppose that Father Roche didn’t love the little Cuban daughter-in-law?”

  “Indeed, very much no. Isn’t too happy about the child either. But more, he says he won’t give any money to someone who lost as much as Barty had. Barty made his choices. He can have a job at the company and work to make his fortune again, or he can live the life he created for himself with his eat, drink, and be merry ways.”

  Rouge whimpered a little, and Violet glanced down at the pup in her arms. “Rouge, darling?”

  She whined again, and Violet set the dog down. Perhaps she had her eye on some random morsel someone had dropped on the ballroom floor? Algie grinned at the dog while Victor stepped to the side as Rouge darted at the door.

  “Someone needs the ladies,” Victor told Vi, and she nodded, following the spaniel to let her into the garden. The gate would allow Rouge to exit the garden, so Violet never let the dog out on her own. When Vi reached the French doors, she saw they’d been closed as Jack took Theo outside. The strand that had been on the doorway was gone, and the long string of windows were all lit except one.

  Rouge pranced at the door, whimpering, and Vi frowned at her. The little dog was usually better behaved. Perhaps she really had received some bite that was too rich for the little beast. Vi opened the door, and Rouge darted out into the darkness.

  Instead of her usual quiet move to do her business, Rouge barked frantically as she ran down the steps and around the house. Vi’s gaze widened, and she glanced over her shoulder, waving Victor after her. Something was certainly wrong. Rouge was far too well-behaved for such nonsense.

  Vi rushed after the dog, knowing Victor would be hurrying after her. She wasn’t afraid, but she was concerned. Perhaps there was a rat in the gardens? Perhaps some young rogue who’d decided to peek into the windows and see what the party was all about?

  “Rouge?” Jack’s deep voice asked. “How did you get out here?”

  “Oh Jack!” Violet said, feeling suddenly awkward.

  He gasped. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised you’d appear just now.”

  She stepped back, hand to her chest. What was that supposed to mean? She wasn’t hunting him down to box his ears, only letting her dog…she gasped.

  “Yes,” he said to her unvoiced question. “Yes, it’s a body.”

  “Who is it?”

  “Theo.”

  Violet stepped back farther.

  “I didn’t do it,” he told her, sounding as offended as she’d been a mere breath ago.

  “I know! Just, Theo. By Jove, Jack, it’s—”

  “What’s all this?” Victor asked. “All well, Vi?” The protective note in his tone was a clear warning for Jack.

  “No,” Violet said, feeling the horror of it. Her gaze was fixated on the body. Rouge growled under Jack’s arm. At his feet was the dead shadowed heap of the man she’d hated the most. The man she loved the most stood over him, and this…this…well—all was not well. Not well at all.

  Chapter Eight

  Violet pressed her hand over her mouth, making no attempt to hide her distress. Jack had sent Victor for Ham, and at the view of the body, Ham shed his affable friend persona. He was just all dragon. All of that fire, that penetrating gaze, that…that…everything—and it was focused on Jack.

  Vi watched Ham carefully. He was asking questions, and Jack answered just as precisely. They seemed almost like puppets enacting a play without conveying any of the necessary emotion.

  “Bloody hell,” Violet ground out, digging her fingernails into her palm.

  Ham was over there blithely asking questions and taking notes. Notes! The fiend! As though Jack were a suspect. Vi bit down on her bottom lip. Of course Jack was a suspect. What had they told Roche? Someone could throw a body in their laps, and they wouldn’t help. Why, by Jove, why had they tempted fate like that? She felt as though some mischievous sprite had taken note and decided to force them to action.

  Violet had never bothered to watch the official investigative process personally. She had never cared before now, and to see it as two best friends—brothers really—force themselves to enact this mockery. She was about to box both of their ears. This was no time for procedure. Vi would break every rule there was to free Jack. Her gaze landed on him, but she avoided his eyes. She was too close to the edge; seeing anything at all in his gaze would send her into the abyss. Seeing it firsthand was something she very much didn’t want to see on the night of her party.

  “It’ll all work out, Vi,” Victor lied. She didn’t bother to mock him. They were both all too well aware that Jack would be a suspect and that her wedding was days away. He knew she didn’t believe him, she knew he didn’t believe himself. She didn’t even answer him, just glanced his way, saw Kate approaching gingerly with Rita and jerked her head at Victor, so he’d see too.

  He rushed to Kate’s side while Violet firmly grasped the reins of her emotions. Kate joined Violet, Victor, and Rita a moment later, gaze solidly fixed on Violet. “It’ll be all right, Vi,” Kate lied. The careful, tender voice was enough to send Violet right over the edge, so she dug her nails into her palms. She didn't need sympathy or love or any sort of emotion except anger. Anything more, and she’d fall apart.

  “Of course it will be fine.” Rita’s fury made Violet feel a little better, and Vi dared to meet the very blue gaze. “We’ll make it so. There’s a series of hurdles ahead. That’s all. You can do this. You and Jack aren’t alone in this fight, Vi.”

  Hurdles, Violet thought and nodded at Rita. Hurdles, yes. Nothing more than a few obstacles and then a honeymoon. Vi would think of them exactly like that. She glanced at Jack, saw his too-knowing gaze take in all she was trying to hide and immediately jerked her own eyes away.

  Did Violet think that Jack would go to jail for killing Theo? No. No, she didn’t. She couldn’t let that happen. The first hurdle would be to get them past that threat.

  Except…did Violet expect her stepmother in the morning?
Yes. Reporters, certainly. Her stomach churned. She could only imagine what Lady Eleanor would do. The delay of her wedding? Very probably. Just because Vi knew that Jack hadn’t done more than rough up Theodophilus Smythe-Hill didn’t mean that Jack wasn’t the main suspect.

  Anything else would make this death and the subsequent investigation look like a conspiracy to cover up the murder. Jack had multiple altercations with Theo, all of which had witnesses. Theo had just upset Violet the week before Jack and Vi were going to be married and with intent of ruining things for her, for them. If you assumed Jack were marrying Violet for her money—he wasn’t, but from the outside—well, Theo had just nearly cost Jack the woman he said he loved and a mountain of ready money.

  Violet closed her eyes against the sight of Victor’s worried gaze, Kate’s too-understanding gaze, Rita’s overt concern, Ham’s careful questions, and of course—the body. She didn’t dare even look at Jack after that last glimpse. She might collapse like one of her weak heroines, full of tears and wailing at the heavens.

  Better to think of the dead man. She’d been so proud to knock him to the ground at Algie’s party. Someone had done a much better job of it than she had. The image of him—on the ground and cursing at her—had been replaced with his body. Head turned to the side, staring into the hedge, eyes not moving, with a knife sticking out of his back, fancy evening clothes and the night hiding the blood she knew was there.

  Violet heard Jack say, “I walked him fully to the gate, Ham. I watched Theo walk away. How or why he came back, I don’t know. Why was he even here in the first place?”

  Ham answered. “Roche invited him to try to compel you to help him with his blackmail problem.”

  “That’s a better motive for murder than Jack’s,” Rita told Ham. “Irritation at the party. Why would Jack kill Theo given all of the people who truly hate him?”

  “Oh, I hate him,” Jack said.

  Violet shot him a look that told him to shut his mouth, but he didn’t react to her silent order.