Page 91 of How to Start a Scandal

Her heart seemed to whisper his name every beat. Seth, Seth. Seth, Seth. Seth, Seth. The way he had looked at her when he loved her, his eyes locked on hers as if their souls were as perfectly joined as their bodies.

I love you.

Those words had hovered on the tip of her tongue every moment they were together. Yet of all the confessions she’d already made to him, she found it the hardest to say.

She’d got to know him so much better last night than she had during the short period of their courting. Not necessarily through their intimate moments, though those certainly had been enlightening and highly enjoyable. It was also through the scars upon his body, placed there by war and fighting and danger.

The jagged white line on his shoulder from the graze of a bullet some time ago as well as other healed injuries. Several slashes that peppered his side and dotted his chest. Nicks along his forearms and hands and the bruise that had gone yellow along the top of his thigh.

She had thought never to see him again when he left her at her debut, but she hadn’t ever considered it might be due to his death. Never had it been more apparent as a possibility than it was last night when she saw the physical effects on him from years of fighting. If some of those injuries had been slightly to the right or left, or up or down, they might have ended his life. He might never have come home.

The very thought gripped her heart with a fear she could not bear. It was then she knew she had to tell him she loved him. No matter how frail her heart, no matter how vulnerable it made her, she had to proclaim the truth of it as bravely as he had.

Seth was worth the risk. He would always be worth the risk.

Susan’s brow wrinkled, and she sat forward to better look out the window.

‘Is something amiss?’ Violet asked.

‘It’s only that we seem to be driving in rather a roundabout way to go to Gunter’s,’ Susan replied, her attention fixed outside. ‘And this does not appear to be Berkeley Square.’

Violet glanced out the window and a chill of apprehension trickled down her spine. Susan was right. It was not Berkeley Square outside, but an expanse of cobblestones with the visible, choppy water of the Thames visible in close proximity. Were they at the wharf?

The carriage drew to a smooth stop.

Goosebumps prickled over her skin.

‘I was expecting a hard stop,’ Violet said softly.

Susan frowned. ‘I’m afraid I don’t—’

The door flew open and a man filled the narrow opening. His dark hair was combed fashionably back to reveal a handsome face lined with wrinkles around his eyes. He wore a fine black jacket and a stark white shirt and cravat. The pale green of his waistcoat, however, was smeared with red.

Violet’s heart nearly stopped as she recognised the mess to be blood.

‘Who are you?’ she demanded.

‘We haven’t yet had the honour, my lady.’ The man inclined his head politely while keeping his gaze fixed on Violet. ‘I’m Mr Pattinson.’

She continued to stare at him, looking for anything on his face that might indicate who he was or what he was doing. Pattinson. She rolled the name over in her mind. Why did it sound so familiar?

‘Your family’s solicitor.’ He waggled his head. ‘Former solicitor,’ he amended.

Recognition dawned on her. Mr Pattinson was the man who had stolen Seth’s mother’s jewels.

‘You have some gall,’ she exclaimed. ‘It takes a despicable man to swindle the jewels from a widow whose son had only recently died.’

‘And it takes a despicable family to hide a man’s misdeeds.’ Mr Pattinson’s upper lip pulled back to reveal fine, white teeth.

‘I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re speaking of.’ Violet spoke innocently even as she wondered if he referred to Seth’s older brother.

‘Defending him to the end, eh?’ Mr Pattinson scoffed. ‘Just like you wealthy nobs, thinking the rest of us are beneath you, to use for whatever you need us for and then discard us.’ He reached into his jacket and withdrew a pistol. ‘The time for the rich to crush those below them has come to an end.’

Susan gave a little scream and Violet put her hands up in silent plea. ‘Please, you needn’t use that.’

‘Oh, I won’t shoot you.’ Mr Pattinson swung the pistol towards Susan. ‘I’ll shoot her.’

Fear spiked through Violet. ‘Stop, please. What is it you want from me?’