The Wicked Deeds of Daniel Mackenzie
Page 81

Violet shook her head. “Mary was right. Mother would never survive being arrested. If I had gotten away, we would have met elsewhere.”
“So you were the sacrificial lamb, were you?” Daniel asked. “What was your idea—divert their attention so your mum could get away?”
“Of course it was. My mother isn’t strong.”
“She seemed plenty fit sprinting down the street, leaving you in the dust. A mother protects her children, Vi. She doesn’t throw them to the wolves.”
Violet looked bewildered. “She didn’t. She doesn’t.”
“Then what the bloody hell do you call that? She took my help fast enough. As soon as your Mary convinced your mum she could trust me, your mum was in the coach without fear, urging me to get her away to the train. Leaving you to take the consequences.”
“It’s what we do,” Violet said, sounding patient, damn her. “If something happens, we scatter and meet in an appointed place. My mother was only following the plan.”
“When I told her you’d gone to jail, she was still ready to fly.” Daniel drew a breath to say more, but Cameron broke in.
“Leave it alone, Son.”
Daniel didn’t want to leave it alone, but he made himself close his mouth. He knew Cameron understood Daniel’s rage at a mother who would leave her child behind in danger. Daniel could pretend indifference about what his mother had done to him, but it had left scars.
Daniel balled his fists again and sat back in his seat. He wanted to strike out in disgust, but there was nothing to hit.
“Daniel’s not wrong,” Cameron said to Violet. “You don’t leave people you love to rot for you.”
Violet’s brows came down. “I’m sorry, gentlemen, but neither of you have any idea what you’re talking about. We do what we have to do. It’s survival. Until you’ve had to live on your wits on the streets, please do not lecture me on how I or my mother should behave.”
Daniel was too angry to answer. Cameron pulled out a cigar and lit it. He leaned back, filling the coach with fragrant smoke. “I like her,” he said to Daniel, then continued to smoke in silence.
“I will pay for my railway ticket,” Violet said, her voice stiff. “All our tickets. If I am required to leave the country, we can part ways in Paris, and my mother and I will travel on someplace else, Bavaria perhaps. We’ll be all right then.”
“No,” Daniel said. “Mr. Bellec made it clear we are to make sure you remove yourself from France. The only way to do that is to watch over you all the way to England. So you’ll be coming with us to Berkshire, Vi, whether you like it or not. And I’m not letting you out of my sight until we get there.”
Berkshire. Daniel had to be mad. Violet’s stomach fluttered. She was still unbalanced by her arrest and confinement, not to mention Daniel’s abrupt rescue. Daniel was furious with her and with her mother, but he seemed to think nothing of cutting short his stay in Marseille to herd Violet out of it.
All too soon, Violet found herself boarding a train car, a private one hired by Lord Cameron. He’d taken the entire car, which had a little parlor and dining area in front and four tiny bedrooms in the back. It even had a bathroom.
Cameron and Daniel oversaw the loading of what little luggage they’d managed to bring. Ainsley’s servants and Mary settled their charges then left for the compartments Cameron had purchased for them. Mary looked startled that she’d have a compartment to herself, all without having to pay her own ticket.
Cameron took over one of the small dining tables in the private car and started leafing through racing newspapers in both English and French. A little girl with red gold hair placed a large plush horse on the table, climbed confidently into Cameron’s lap, and looked interestedly at the newspapers with him. Cameron absently hooked an arm around the girl’s waist and pressed a soft kiss to her hair.
Daniel didn’t speak to Violet at all. Ainsley, on one of the sofas, reached out a hand to her. “Come and sit with me, Violet, dear. You’ve had quite an ordeal.”
Celine had already taken a soft armchair by one of the windows, looking completely at home in the elegance. She fanned herself and let out a breath as the train jerked forward. “Yes, quite frightening. Poor Violet. Was it very awful?”
“A bit,” Violet said, sitting down next to Ainsley.
“I could not have stood a jail cell,” Celine said. “The aura would have been too much for me.”
“They didn’t put me in a cell, Mama. Just a room with a chair and table.”
Her mother looked relieved and disappointed at the same time. Violet knew Celine would have loved to hear horror stories about rats and squalid jail cells.
Ainsley’s look held sympathy. “Don’t worry, we will fill you both up with hot tea and plenty of cake. And then put you to bed. It’s early, but you must be tired.”
As the train gained speed, Marseille falling behind, several waiters wheeled in a cart loaded with food. Violet’s stomach rumbled as they set out breads and meats, cheese, tea, cakes, and—heaven—coffee.
Violet ate the cakes Ainsley shoved at her and gulped coffee. By the time her head ceased spinning and her stomach calmed down, they were well into the countryside.
Violet set down her coffee cup. “I am very grateful to you for helping us,” she said to Ainsley. “You are all impossibly kind. I intend to pay you back for the tickets.”