Page 17 of How to Start a Scandal

And there it was: Violet had secured a space in Lottie’s highly sought-after, extremely secretive lessons.

Seth met the former Runner in a dodgy public house that smelled of hot bodies and smoky tallow candles and stale spirits, and sat apart in a shadowed corner where they wouldn’t be disturbed.

The man, known simply as ‘Nash’, was entirely the sort of man Seth had predicted he would be: grizzled, with a beard that hadn’t been trimmed in some time, a straight, humourless mouth, clothing that looked as though it hadn’t been washed in an age. He was the kind of man who could blend into a tough crowd and disappear. Unmemorable. At least until one glimpsed the sharp intensity in his eyes, bright with intelligence and heavy with a haunted expression Seth had come to know well. He’d witnessed it in his men, after hard battles or too many years on end without cease. Worse still, he sometimes even saw it in himself.

Seth handed him a leather portfolio containing all the information gleaned on the solicitor, Mr Pattinson, which sadly, wasn’t much. The perfidious solicitor had managed to lay low for the duration of his time in London prior to weaselling his way into Lady Dalton’s employ. Then again, a widowed countess who had recently lost her son was surely an easy target.

‘No one knows where ’e’s gone, eh?’ Nash peered into the portfolio, his brow crinkling.

Seth leaned forward to be heard over the raucous crowd without having to speak too loudly. ‘It’s as though he’s simply disappeared.’

Nash snapped the portfolio closed and curled the string around the supple leather. ‘No one just disappears.’

‘And that’s why I have come to you, my good man.’ Seth took a sip of the porter at his side. It wasn’t a proper drink for a gentleman and certainly the glass was far from clean. But it was the kind of libation he’d often found himself enjoying during his time in the military, alongside his men.

An ache clutched at his heart. Too many of those men were now dead.

He tightened his grip on the glass.

‘If anyone can find ’im, it’ll be me.’ Nash spoke with the confidence of a man who knew his worth.

A man who would get the job done no matter the cost.

Seth swallowed down the rest of his porter and got to his feet. The room had become increasingly crowded since he’d arrived. The hour was late, the ideal time to drink, gamble and visit brothels.

Six years ago Seth would have been meeting up with Kentworth, eagerly anticipating the night’s sport—in whatever fashion it happened to be enjoyed. Now, exhaustion pressed on him and the only thing he looked forward to was morning, when another night of haunted dreams would come to an end.

He nodded a farewell to the Runner and took his leave. The ride home was swift, as it often was with so few carriages about. Curiously, there was one arriving at Hollingston House next door when Seth drew closer to his home.

He peered into the darkness. Lord Hollingston was a man well known for his morals. He cared for his children, remained faithful to his wife and served in Parliament with steadfast determination to right the wrongs of England. And indeed it was not Lord Hollingston who alighted from the carriage. It was a woman.

Seth sat forward in his seat. The mysterious lady wore a full-length black domino and a concealing mask over her face. Surely it was not Lady Hollingston, who watched the world with a tight-lipped frown of disapproval. And no servant would dare risk ruining the Lavell name by bringing scandal to their doorstep. Quite literally. Especially not servants as loyal as those serving at Hollingston House.

Which left only one potential lady who might be out at such a damning hour.

Lady Violet.

He remained fixed with riveted fascination as she rushed through the back gate and garden. The door opened before she even arrived, shooting a streak of light out over the moonlit grass. She slipped into the house and the door closed. Darkness resumed once more.

Lady Violet, out alone and wearing a domino. What was the little wallflower doing?

The thought teased at him throughout the night as he tossed and turned on his fine mattress that had taken several nights to readjust to.

There were many reasons a woman might don a mask and cloak in the dead of night. The gaming hells ladies frequented beneath the obscurity of anonymity, a lover whose arms she might secretly fall into. There were even salacious parties where couples loved freely among one another while wearing only those masks.

Suddenly there she was in his mind’s eye, naked save for a fitted mask that framed her startling blue eyes and thick, sable lashes. While Seth had never been to one of those parties, he’d heard enough to know what went on. Enough to consider what she might do if they were in attendance at one together and she was entirely free to come to him.

That night, for the first time since his return from Waterloo, he wasn’t tormented by images of his men dying, but ones that were far sweeter and left him hot, hard and aching the following morning.

Through it all, he could not liberate the thought from his mind: What if Violet was not as innocent as he’d initially presumed?

Chapter Six

Violet had been playing with spinning tops for the span of a very long, very monotonous afternoon that involved a tedious amount of flicking her wrist. Lift the top, twist it to spin, wait for it to roll to a stop. On and on it went: lift, spin, wait, lift, spin, wait. And throughout the excruciating duration, Hedgehog darted about madly in an attempt to pounce upon the small, whirling objects.

It had been rather funny at the start. The first several dozen times at least. Then Violet began to feel rather sorry for the poor beast. Surely he was getting as tired as she.

‘Would you like to play another game?’ Violet asked.