‘Perhaps you should consider taking a holiday, my dear, to a place of warmth and beauty. The grandeur of Rome comes to mind with all its antiquities and history.’
Another man with good advice. She made herself smile. ‘Perhaps I shall do that.’
‘I will write a list of all the places that cannot be missed,’ he continued, a tone in his voice that could be construed as relief. ‘Travel always broadens the mind and stretches one’s boundaries of knowledge.’
‘Did you hear that the jeweller George Taylor had died in Chichester?’
A frown crossed his forehead. ‘I have said before it is better for a lady to let such affairs be dealt with by men who understand these things.’
‘You did give me that advice,’ she responded and finished the pale, tasteless orgeat punch she had been offered on arrival. ‘And while it is kindly meant, I find myself quite up to the task of sorting out my own affairs these days.’
‘A mistake, my dear.’
‘For whom, Uncle Charles?’ She would not back down. This was exactly the sort of game that Harland had played with her.
‘You have no idea of the people you would be up against should you delve into your late husband’s past.’ His eyes found de Beaumont talking with another man over by the generous doors.
‘People like the Comte?’
‘He is a man whose reputation is unequalled.’
‘In society? As a hero or a villain?’
Charles lifted his own glass to his lips and drank deeply. ‘My advice to you, Violet, would be to find another husband and concentrate on being a wife. This is the avenue that could bring about your true happiness. I am certain your mother would have furnished the very same advice.’
Violet made herself smile prettily as she turned to the room, her heart racing under the pretence. Charles had his fingers in many pies and she had known that he had watched Harland closely. The Home Office, which he headed, was, after all, the ministry designed to keep England safe from any outsiders who might try to harm it.
‘You have changed something in here, I think. The colour of the walls, perhaps?’
‘Yes. It was blue, but my wife insisted upon a shade of yellow.’ She could see he was relieved by the new topic.
And so the conversation rolled into the dressing of the home’s interiors and to the antics of his son who had just started at university that very year. Safe discussions and far from the true intent of those others. As she talked she searched for the enigmatic Comte de Beaumont, but she could no longer see him anywhere.
Amaryllis had finally retired, her sister-in-law staying up far later tonight than she had in months. Bidding her farewell, Violet made her own way up to bed, asking a servant to douse the lights below as she went. Did the Comte watch on from somewhere close? Would he even come? Upstairs she left two candles alight and dismissed her lady’s maid.
‘Go and find your own rest, Edith. I shall see you in the morning.’
‘Thank you, my lady.’
The girl was off before other duties might come her way and Violet locked the door behind her.
Last time Aurelian de la Tomber had come from the balcony. This time, no doubt, he would do the same. She stripped away her shawl and laid the dark green velvet fabric across a chair. She no longer felt cold. The heat in her burned like a fire consumed in flame.
She knew the moment he arrived, the air around congealing in anticipation. Tonight he was dressed fully in black, enmeshed in shadow and night.
‘I think Douglas Cummings is a dangerous man.’ Not the words she had hoped for. Was it for politics he had come?
She frowned. ‘He holds the appearance of one who could hardly swat a fly.’
‘Looks can be deceiving.’
‘Like yours were at the jeweller’s?’
He ignored that and carried on. ‘Cummings works for Charles Mountford and has access to all the documents that come into the Home Office.’
He was serious. It was not a personal dislike, but something much more sinister.
‘Did you ever see him at Addington Manor? When your husband was alive?’
