Seeing Violet’s desperate look, Richard cut in. “Stop pestering her. This is murder, not some silly game.”
“What a killjoy you are, Carlisle.” Parnell sniffed. “It’s a wonder our Violet wants anything to do with you. A case of Beauty and the Beast, to be sure.”
A loud chord crashed through the room—a good thing because it diverted Richard from his intention to rip the lordling’s head off. As the music began, Violet placed a hand on his arm.
“Ignore Parnell,” she whispered. “He just likes to bait.”
With a terse nod, Richard turned to the front where Miss Wrotham was warbling about a lovelorn lass, Miss Turbett accompanying her on the pianoforte. Richard tried not to wince as the former emitted a high trill that scraped like a fork over his eardrums. At the same instant, Miss Turbett hit a discordant chord that threatened to burst said eardrums altogether.
Even the duet from hell, however, couldn’t distract Richard from his brooding. Parnell’s remark about Beauty and the Beast had resurrected a memory: of overhearing Miss Lucinda Belton talking about him at a ball. Her voice drifted to him now, the way it had from the other side of an Oriental screen…
“I had to say no, of course,” Lucinda said in her distinctive silvery voice, “but it was terribly awkward. He’d gone down on bended knee and seemed sosurprisedwhen I turned him down.”
“Did he actually believe that you could love him?” Disdain colored another female voice. “You’re a Diamond of the First Water, Lucy, and he’s… well, he’s more like a lump of coal.”
Giggling, Lucinda said, “His manners are rather… unpolished, aren’t they?”
“Not to mention his looks,” her friend added.
“Luckily, in this instance,” a male voice drawled, “our fair Aphrodite doesn’t have to settle for old Hephaestus…”
“Penny for your thoughts, Carlisle?”
Belatedly, Richard realized that the performance had ended, and Violet was asking him a question. He looked at her pretty, glowing face and hated his own self-doubt. But he couldn’t prevent the question from worming into his mind: could Violet love him?
They’d never spoken of that emotion, and, in truth, it wasn’t one he took much stock in. Ladies, in his experience, fell in and out of love with alarming regularity. As he recalled, Audrey Keane had once professed harboring that sentiment for him. No, love could not be relied upon. The things that he and Violet shared—passion, liking, and mutual interests—those were what truly mattered... weren’t they?
There was no way in hell he could share these jumbled thoughts with Violet. He felt foolish enough having them in the first place. Exposing his humiliating history was out of the question.
“I’m just thinking about tomorrow,” he said quietly.
“Me too.” Looking around the room, she said in an undertone, “Everyone is carrying on as usual. It’s difficult to imagine that somewhere in this room could lurk a murderer.”
It was an unsettling observation, enough to dispel his other ruminations.
As Richard surveyed the crowd, he tried to imagine any one of them being responsible for smothering Monique de Brouet and stealing the necklace. His gaze went to Wormleigh standing at the edge of the room, presently flirting with Mrs. Sumner. Nearby, Tobias Price was busy bantering with a matron of his own class. Near the stage, Ashe and Burns were hovering, readying to perform.
Then there was Garrity in the front row. As usual, the other was dressed to the nines, but it was not the moneylender’s garb that caught Richard’s attention but who he was sitting with.
“I know. I don’t like the looks of that either,” Violet said, as if reading his mind. “Gabby’s far too nice to be entangled with the likes of him.”
Miss Billings was staring at Garrity with a rapt expression. Rather like a mouse mesmerized by a snake, Richard thought. The moneylender’s words echoed in his head.Even a man as busy as I am must occasionally make time for diversions.
He doubted very much that Garrity’s interest in Miss Billings was motivated by pleasure alone… unless one counted the man’s love of profit. But this wasn’t Richard’s problem. Billings was also watching his daughter and Garrity, his expression tight.
Ashe and Burns finished to rousing applause.
“I have a hunch that tomorrow is going to bring some surprises,” Violet whispered.
Richard shared that portentous feeling: a storm was brewing ahead.
Chapter Thirty-Two
The next morning, the guests undertook the journey from Traverstoke to the village in a caravan of horses and carriages. Violet had chosen to ride a spirited dappled grey mare from Billings’ stable. Beside her, Richard was mounted on his magnificent Thoroughbred Aiolos, whose sleek muscles rippled beneath his gleaming chestnut coat.
Man and mount were much alike, Vi thought admiringly. Both were noble beasts of strength and grace. Richard looked utterly at home in the saddle, his muscular body moving in synchrony with his powerful steed.
Which reminded her of an idea that had been bobbing around in her head since their last discussion about his stables. With all that had been going on, she’d forgotten to share it with him. Now they had a moment.
