The Wicked Deeds of Daniel Mackenzie
Page 55

“Lost,” Violet said, making her voice dramatically low. “Everything lost. And his father casting him out.”
“Aye.” Daniel sat back, shaking his head, the Glaswegian accent growing with every word. “It could come true. My gambling habit most like. I can’t get a bit of coin between me fingers I don’t want to toss on a horse or a turn of cards. I thought if I married a rich lady, it might help. But if your vision is real . . .”
Lady Victoria made a pained noise and let go of Daniel’s arm. “Of course it isn’t real. She’s a fake. I said so.”
Daniel looked bewildered. “No, ye said she was the real thing. But she’s likely right. I’d run through me poor wife’s fortune like it was wa’er.”
“Honestly.” Lady Victoria rose to her feet, and Daniel, ever the gentleman, rose with her. Lady Victoria glared at Violet. “You ought to be ashamed of yourself. You don’t know anything. Excuse me, Mr. Mackenzie, I must attend my hostess.”
She glided away, head high, but her feet moved quickly. Daniel saved his laughter until she’d gone out the door and into the bright hall.
“You’re a wicked, mischievous minx, you are,” Daniel said, sitting down again. His smile was the warmest thing Violet had felt all night. “What am I to do with you?”
She kept up her Romany persona. “I must speak what I see.”
Daniel chuckled. “Do you know what I see?”
Violet dropped the Romany accent and spoke in haughty, blue-blooded English tones. “I cannot imagine, Mr. Mackenzie.”
Daniel slid the crystal on its stand toward him and peered into it with an expression so like that of the woman who’d taught Violet, she couldn’t stop her laughter.
“I see a young woman wrapped in crimson scarves, meeting with a young man. He seems to be wearing a kilt, he does. And they’re . . . on a terrace. Interesting. When the clock strikes the half hour.”
Violet’s voice was tight. “You can see that far ahead, can you?”
Daniel took a watch from his pocket, opened it, and nodded. “The half hour. Eighteen minutes from now. Let’s see if the fortune comes true, shall we?”
He slid the watch back into his waistcoat, winked, rose, and strolled away, leaving Violet alone and breathless.
Daniel watched Violet step out of the house to the terrace on the half hour exactly, and something tight eased in him. She’d bundled up in a big shawl over her costume, smart girl. The wind was icy.
Daniel blessed his good fortune. He hadn’t thought she’d come.
He’d had to waltz with a few more debutantes before he could break away. He’d excused himself to smoke, and he’d heard the comtesse praise his good manners to Ainsley as he walked away.
Daniel had quickly passed the room set aside for gentlemen with cigars and whiskey, and emerged onto the terrace. Because it was frigidly cold, he was the only one of the party who’d dared the out-of-doors. He’d lit a cigar for verisimilitude and sucked its smoke while waiting.
Daniel said nothing as Violet scanned the terrace then turned her steps toward him. Closer and closer, the moonlight in the clear sky touching her face and the red of her kerchief. She’d put something on her face to make her skin darker, but Violet’s eyes were just as blue behind the outline of kohl.
“I think you lost me a potential wife in there,” Daniel said lightly when he reached her. “Who’s going to help me in me old age now?”
Violet raised a brow. “Are you disparaging my ability to predict the future? The husband I saw for Lady Victoria was English, thin, and balding, with nothing to say but yes, dear, a hundred times a day.”
Daniel burst out laughing. “I think you’ve hit on it. She’ll be happy as a lark.” He held his cigar out of the way and slid his arm around her waist. “Hell, Violet, you are ten times the woman of any here. Why do you do this?”
Violet looked up at him, she utterly confident, strong, and unflinching, this wonderful lady. “To make a living, of course.”
“You don’t need to, not like this. Putting up with insipid lords and ladies begging you to tell them that their perfect little lives will go on being perfect. Stop doing it, Vi. They don’t deserve you. Promise me no more fortune-telling.”
Violet didn’t look impressed. “The comtesse has paid me a rather large fee. Plus I have all my tips.”
“Why do you need the money so badly? What did you do with the wad you stole from me? Spend it at the horse races?”
Now Violet blinked. She flushed behind her makeup. “I did take a little of the money you had in your pocket. About a hundred pounds in all, enough to get us away from England and settled here. I planned to pay you back, or your family, once I’d saved enough. And Mr. Mortimer his rent.”
Daniel laughed again. “You’re precious, lass. So, you had me unconscious on your floor with about two thousand quid on me, and you peeled off a hundred and left the rest?”
“I’d have picked a nicer boardinghouse if I’d taken more.”
“You’re mad, you are. Why not take the lot?”
Violet shrugged, looking troubled. “I’d hurt you—I didn’t know whether I’d killed you. It would look bad for me if I had robbed you too, and I thought your family should have the money.”
“My family. Oh, God, you really believe that, don’t you? My family doesn’t give a horse’s balls about the money. Doesn’t matter—some light-fingered thief took the rest when I was a-lying out in the dark. You should have waited until I came to. I would have handed it over, anything to get you away from Mortimer. How the devil did I get to where the constable found me anyway?”