"...so I struck a deal with her. I'm going to draw five designs each week in exchange for wages and if my designs are popular she will take me on full time! Can you imagine, Violet, I will design dresses all day!"
Violet heard the excitement in Sarah's voice and smiled. "I am very glad you are happy Sarah."
Two limber arms embraced her, startling Violet with their warmth before she allowed herself to relax.
"Don't think I don't know who I owe all of this to! I wish there was a way I could repay your kindness."
Violet pulled away from the embrace, the memory of the last time she had been hugged this way suddenly leaving a sour taste in her mouth. Two days after blinding her, her mother had discovered that Violet stole her father's ring when she was away. Pulling her out of her bed, Cook ran with her into the forests surrounding her home, embraced her for a long time then told her: 'Run away child! Run away, and don't ever come back!'
"You do not need to repay me, Sarah. But if you really do want to help, you can find me my brush. I can't seem to remember where I put it."
"Your brush?" Sarah moved around Violet's changing room, her voice full of questions, "I've never known you to lose anything. Actually, I've never known you to brush your hair at this hour..."
Violet was about to reply when he arrived. She had known the moment he had entered the circus about an hour earlier. It would have been impossible for her to miss his scent when she had been waiting for it since morning.
Nerves made her stomach uncomfortably tingly. It felt wrong, to use Patrick to get close to Ismail, but she hadn't been able to come up with another way.
"Good evening, my Lord."
"Wha-" Sarah began in confusion, then she stopped, likely having spotted the man walking into the room.
"Good evening, Lady Violin."
His tone was clipped . What, did he not like her formality? And here Violet was putting herself out to be pleasant. She had concluded last night that the best way to earn a man's trust was submission; something she was no good at. So far, it didn't seem to be working.
"I... my Lord?" Sarah was stumbling for words. Violet realised with a start that Sarah was not aware of Patrick's status. Being around nobles made most commoners nervous.
Violet moved to where she knew Sarah was standing. "Sarah, I do not believe you've been properly introduced. This is Lord Patrick Bruce. My Lord, my friend Sarah."
"The pleasure, once again, is mine, Miss Sarah." Patrick's voice was designed to charm and it had the desired effect. Violet felt Sarah relax beside her.
"Thank you, my Lord." The girl replied shyly.
Silence settled over the three of them. Violet wondered who or what Patrick was looking at.
"Umm...Violet. I need to go, I have things to do... I will see you tomorrow?"
"Yes," Violet reassured her friend. As she listened to Sarah excuse herself and leave the room, she realised her charade was about to begin in earnest.
"You plan to come here tomorrow?" Violet listened to the calm way Patrick posed the question. How did he want her reply?
"I assumed I would be here for the show?" She made it a question, leaving the decision to him. In truth, she no longer had a reason to stay with the circus. Patrick had said he would provide for her and Violet was planning to execute her mission before he had time to tire of her.
"I told you that you do not need to work, Violet."
Violet inclined her head in understanding. "I will go and tell Graham."
"There is no need, I will notify him. You just get your things together."
It rankled that he was already issuing orders. Damn. It took all her will power not to tell him to beat it! Moving to her dresser, Violet leaned down and found the small bag she had prepared. "I've packed. I just could not find my brush."
"No matter, I will get you a new one. Hundreds if you want. I meant what I said. I will take good care of you, Violet."
Her anger quickly changed into satisfaction and then discomfort. This is what Violet was hoping for. The softness in his voice was almost tender. It would not take long to gain his trust...this was a good thing, she had to stop feeling uncomfortable.
"Thank you," Violet said as he took her bag from her.
"Shall we?" There was a smile in his voice. For the first time Violet felt a twinge of excitement that had nothing to do with her mission. She was going to be with this man, feel again all those delicious things she had come to know with him. Stop it! Violet scolded herself. She could not begin thinking of such things and lose sight of the facts.
She was going back with this man to get close to Ismail and that was all.
Violet moved until she stood right beside him. The heat from his body as they walked, penetrated her thin blouse and caressed her bare arms.
"Where's your coat?" Patrick asked, stopping a few feet from the rear exit of the tent.
She had given her coat to a little beggar girl that morning. "I don't have one."
Patrick's muffled curses were followed by a shifting. A moment later his warm jacket enveloped her shoulders.
"We are going to get you one first thing tomorrow, now let's go."
She was glad he followed his selfless actions with imperious orders. Without the commands it would have been much harder to resist softening towards him. Violet followed as Patrick as he walked through the back arena of the circus. Hay, lions, wood, paint, soil, trees... they were almost out of the tent when a gruff voice stopped her in her tracks.
"Violet?"
Nicu, Violet thought with some embarrassment. The virile gypsy that joined the circus only two days ago was a blessing in Violet's opinion. He was a very talented musician and if the gossiping from the female performers was to be believed, he was also an exceedingly good looking man. Nicu would ensure that the circus continued to attract a large audience and it relieved her mind that she wasn't leaving Graham without a musical act.
"Where are you going, little one?" Nicu spoke in Romany and Violet was glad for it. She was embarrassed by what the man was certainly inferring from the situation. Not that a gypsy would censure a woman who chose to become a mistress.
"I am leaving, Nicu. It was a pleasure to perform with you." The Romany words rolled off her tongue and she moved forward, hoping Patrick would follow. He had gone strangely quiet in the last few moments, but then she didn't think any man liked being left out of a conversation.
"Leaving? With him? I do not trust him." Nicu was at her side, his hand on her arm to stop her from going on.
Violet was about to pull back, then Nicu's hand was gone and a grunt of pain followed.
"I have a small piece of advice for you Nicu, do not presume to touch my woman again."
The words Patrick delivered in choppy Romany chilled Violet to the bone. How did he speak the gypsy language? And what had he done to Nicu?
Violet didn't manage another word before Patrick shuffled her past the gypsy and into his carriage. "Did you hurt him?" She was angry at the liberties he took, but knew she should not show it.
"Not nearly enough."
Damn! Was Patrick a violent man, then? What if this scheme turned out to be more dangerous than she had imagined?
"You speak the tongue of gypsies so you should know our codes. He is gypsy, so am I. He believes he has the right to protect me."
"I don't claim to understand the gypsy codes Violet, but he has to know that you are mine to protect."
Although she should be outraged, Violet felt a thrill at hearing those words. His to protect. Patrick had said before that he wanted to take care of her. Was that what he was doing now?
"I didn't hurt him if you are concerned. I just warned him." Patrick's words drew her out of her thoughts. He was trying to reassure her.
"I'm glad," she nodded as the carriage took off.
Silence followed her response. For the first time that day Violet wondered what would happen once they arrived at Patrick's town house. The attraction between them was undeniable, but what did they actually know about each other?
She was fishing around for a topic, when the driver pulled on the reigns and slowed the horses.
"What is it?" Patrick called out from the carriage window.
"There is a man lying on the road, my Lord." The driver called back. Violet heard the man shuffling off the wooden seat and breathed.
She could smell the man on the street; his clothes carried the distinct scent of damp, alcohol and gunpowder!
"He has a gun," Violet whispered fiercely. Her hands reached for Patrick and she turned her head to breath in the cold air coming from the window. Worry filled her, "There are three more men close by."
"Don't worry," Patrick set her back in her seat, and kissed her brow. "Don't worry and don't move, I'll be back in a moment." With that, he shut the window and stepped out of the carriage, leaving Violet alone.
Despite Patrick's utter calm, Violet found herself worrying. Yes, he might be a blood drinker, but there were four highwaymen out there! Her hand reached under her skirt for her knife and came up empty. She had put the blade in her bag in case Patrick noticed it and tried to take it away. And her bag was strapped to the top of the carriage!
Damn! Damn! Damn!
"Well hello gentlemen. Now we don't want any trouble, just your money if you please." Violet heard the ominous voice and groaned. This was going to get ugly, she just knew it.
"I suggest you leave before I take exception to what you have tried to do here."
Violet's lips parted at Patrick's words. How could he say something like that? A breath let her know that the remaining three men were moving in from the trees. Patrick must see them. Even if he hadn't believed her, didn't he see them? What was he going to do against four armed men!?
The villain was laughing now, likely in disbelief.
"I don't think you understand Sir, we are four armed fighters and you two – a dandy and a driver- don't stand a chance. Now I'd rather not kill you if I don't have to. But I will, if you give me trouble."
Oh God, Patrick was going to get himself shot. Violet moved closer to the door and pushed the window another fraction.
"Hugh, are you alright?" Patrick was saying. Hugh, that had to be the driver. How did Patrick sound so casual?
"Yes, my Lord."
There was some shifting, and Violet could smell sweat on two of the robbers. They were nervous...
"Enough of this!" the leader growled and then there was a blast.
Violet froze in her seat as two more gun shots sounded and the unmistakable scent of blood filled the air.
No! No! She took deep breaths but couldn't tell if it was Patrick's blood or someone else's. Oh God, she had to help.
Throwing caution to the wind, she stepped out of the carriage and into the cold night. She could hear shuffling in the distance but everything else was quiet. It was so quiet.
Blood, sweat and gunpowder filled her nostrils and then ale... A sweaty arm clamped around her neck, dragging her back.
"I've got your bitch!" the villain yelled from beside her ear. His heavy arm across her neck was making it difficult to breath and her heart rate was speeding out of control.
"Violet." It was Patrick's voice. She wanted to reply, to call his name, but the arm was chocking her.
"You shot my mates!" the villain spat, his breathing heavy. Violet clawed at the skin around her neck.
"Yes, I did, and I will be forced to shoot you as well if you do not let her go." Patrick replied. She had heard him speak with a similar tone while having afternoon tea at Angelica's. The man was fit for bedlam!
Violet tried to control her nerves by not paying attention to the waft of blood in the air. Sweat from the villains arm smeared across her skin. Only fear could cause a man to sweat in frigid air.
"You're a high an' mighty bastard ain't ya?" the villain's panic showed in his shaking voice.
"This is your last warning, do you want to go to prison or do you want to die?"
The pressure on Violet's neck increased as Patrick's cold statement sunk in her assailant's mind. A moment later she was pushed forward. Her hands flew up in reaction as she tried to brace herself against the fall. Two strong arms were there to catch her as she had known deep down they would be.
Before she could thank him, Patrick was moving in the direction the villain had fled.
"Cover your ears!" It was a command and Violet obeyed without hesitation.
A gun shot was followed by a distant scream. In the haze of gunpowder and shock, Violet realised Patrick must have shot the escaping villain .
"Where did you hit him?" The man's continued wails told her he wasn't dead.
"Right foot." Patrick replied, then walked some steps to the right, "Take Lady Violin to the house. I'm going to bring these four to the authorities."
"Yes my Lord," the driver was quick to respond, but Violet didn't move. The scent of blood was stronger now that Patrick stood beside her.
"Where are you hurt?"
He hesitated, then brushed a stray hair from her face.
"Hugh will take you home. Mrs. Devon will show you to the pink room. It is a comfortable room and you're exhausted. Go to sleep and we will talk tomorrow."
Violet felt his palm rest against her back. He was leading her to the carriage and she wouldn't speak to him till morning. That was a good thing wasn't it? Then why did she want more than anything to stay with him?
A moment later she was deposited in the coach and was on her way to Patrick's home, her protestations stuck in her throat.