The Countess Conspiracy (Brothers Sinister #3)(82)

Her mother’s eyes glinted.

“After we had that warning, I had two more miscarriages. Had he not passed away, there would have been more.”

“Yes,” her mother said softly. “I knew that. Just as I knew that the last time you miscarried, you were in bed for three weeks. I thought I was going to lose you, Violet.”

Violet nodded, unable to speak.

Her mother looked away. “It’s hell being a mother. Not being able to do anything to save the ones you love more than anything in the world. A lady is supposed to protect her own, but how is she supposed to do that?”

Violet grappled for speech. “When my husband died, it seemed like such an unexpected gift. I felt awful for feeling that way—awful and selfish, as if I didn’t deserve to have my life back. I didn’t know…”

And here she’d thought that her mother’s references to hanging for murder were hyperbole.

“Come, Violet,” her mother said, patting her hand. “It was a terrible tragedy when your husband fell down the stairs. It would be unbelievably gauche for us to label that event providential. A lady always avoids the truth, when it happens to be gauche.”

“Mama.” Violet swallowed. “I…I…don’t know what to say.”

Her mother simply shrugged. “It’s the first rule. I protect what is mine.” She set her hand gently on Violet’s shoulder. “And you,” she whispered, “you’re mine.”

Chapter Twenty-two

MEET ME AT CASTEIN’S BOOKS on Euston Road. Your very own servant, Sebastian.

The note had been delivered to Violet’s hand at seven on the next morning. She was to deliver her talk that evening; she’d planned to practice in the morning, and then travel to Cambridge at noon with her mother and friends. But as soon as she saw those words, her heart began to beat in cold fear. She called for her cloak and carriage, and left the house immediately.

It was only when she was halfway there that it occurred to her to suspect foul play. Surely Lily wouldn’t try something foolish to prevent Violet from giving the lecture?

But no. That was Sebastian’s hand, his messy signature.

And your very own servant was part of their code—in this case, it meant come urgently. Lily would never have known to use that.

Indeed, Sebastian met her carriage at Castein’s.

“Good,” he said. “There’s not a moment to lose. Send your carriage away.”

She did. He threaded her hand through his arm and started walking down the street.

“We’re not going into Castein’s?”

“No. That was a subterfuge.”

Her heart thumped. So he did suspect foul play. “Subterfuge from whom?”

He didn’t seem to hear her; he simply marched her down the pavement, ducking agilely through a rush of men who were exiting the train station ahead. He took her past a barber, a money-changer, a newsstand. King’s Cross Station was just down the street, and the streets were thick with traffic. Cabbies were trying to turn horses about, shouting imprecations at one another.

Undaunted, Sebastian guided her through a thicket of working men in bowler hats, all setting forth to start their days at the banks and counting-houses where they worked.

“Sebastian,” Violet repeated, “whom is this a subterfuge from?”

“No time,” he murmured in her ear. “I’ll explain later.” He guided her inside the station. The acrid smells of smoke and engine oil assailed her, but Sebastian didn’t pause. He led her around newsboys and sellers of pasties, over to a platform where train cars were slowly filling.

He let go of her arm and pulled out a pocket watch. He consulted this, and then the large clock face in the hall, squinting at the time with narrowed eyes.

“Sebastian, are we waiting for someone?”

“Yes.”

“Who?” She took a step closer to him. “What’s wrong? Should I be worried?”

“No, no,” he said absently. “Not yet.”

Not yet did not sound auspicious.

“Are you introducing me to someone? Your Professor Bollingall? Or—” The thought caught at her and she gasped. “Oh, God, Sebastian, if you’ve brought me to meet Charles Darwin in a train station, I will…I will…”

“Give me more credit than that.” Sebastian smiled at her. “You won’t be introduced to Mr. Darwin until tonight.”

Not comforting. But before she had a chance to begin to work up a good panic in response, the conductor blew his whistle and called out “All aboard!” The engine nearest them roared more loudly.

And—before Violet could quite understand what was happening—Sebastian picked her up by the waist and swung her onto the train.

“What! For God’s sake, Sebastian—”

He stepped aboard himself and slammed the door shut behind them.

“What are you doing?” She pushed at his chest, but he was blocking the only exit.

“My apologies, Violet,” he said with a brilliant grin. “It was a subterfuge from you.”

“What?”

“Surprise!” He beamed at her. “I’m taking you to the seashore.”

“I don’t want to go to the sea! I’m giving a lecture tonight. I have to practice!”