Page 17 of An Enchantress for an Earl

It was not so cold as that other night when she had stood on a terrace recently… she shivered at the memory. Even as she did so, a sound came to her, closer than the faint strains of music from the distant ballroom.

Voices. Voices which caused her to stop, instantly. The same voices which she had heard that other time, when they had spoken chillingly in a darkened garden.

Her first instinct was to flee. But her second was to creep closer to the partially open door through which those voices issued, and to listen. She wanted, if nothing else, to discover who the men were, that she might most carefully avoid them in future. And if she were to be honest with herself, she wanted to know exactly what wrongdoing it was that they had discussed.

Her flimsy ball slippers made no sound on the paving of the terrace, and she came to rest, yet again, leaning against stone, mere inches from that barely cracked open door.

It was open but an inch or two, and she suspected that the men were not even aware of it being so. But it was enough that, when she eased forward and peered through that opening, she could see the two men who stood beside the fireplace to one side of the room. They were lit only by the flickering flames, but it was enough for Violet to realise that she did, indeed, know one of them, albeit only slightly.

He was Viscount Villeham – a man she had danced with once, and found rather repugnant. The other man she did not recall ever meeting. As she hovered there, watching, Villeham reached into his pockets and produced a thick bundle of something, which he held out to the other man.

“Here, Cater, your share of the latest batch, as agreed. Don’t expect more, if you lose it all at the tables tonight.”

“And why shouldn’t I? You can just produce more…”

“You know that would be foolish – if we seem too flush, too soon, someone is sure to get suspicious, despite the fact that I’ve put out the story that it appears my grandfather was a penny-pinching hoarder, and in his later years, as his mind went, he hid that hoard about the more obscure parts of Villeham Hall. People believe what they want to believe, and congratulate me on my luck. But you have no such convenient story. “

“I suppose you’re right. I’ll pay what I owe tonight, and step back from the tables. There’s always another night. And I’d prefer that we were not discovered – even if it must be eked out, knowing that there is a limitless supply of blunt available to me is a most reassuring way to approach life. Well, it will be, once we make sure that interfering damned Committee fails to find a solution…”

Villeham smiled – and it was not a pleasant smile.

“Oh I think that we’ll have no problem there. So helpful of the son to have got himself sent down, and provided a place for us to start with the rumours and creation of doubt. I’ve escalated the matter, and I’m sure that he’ll do what we want. If not… well then, he won’t be the only one to suffer.”

With a nod, the man referred to as Cater took the bundle, and shoved it roughly into his own pockets, and they both turned towards the door to the hallway. Violet stood frozen in place, watching them leave.

Watching because, as Cater had pocketed what he had been given, what looked like a piece of paper had fallen from the bundle to the floor, with neither man noticing. It fluttered down, to land close to the fire, and lay there upon the rug.

Only when she was sure that they had gone, and would not return, did she slip through the door and hurry across the room, to scoop that paper up, and tuck it into her reticule. She was shaking with fear, but she knew that she had to see what it was, to be certain that she had understood correctly. And if she had… then Lord Merryfield was in danger – the thought of which sent a shocking twist of pain through her heart.

Back in the ladies retiring room, Lily was tidying her hair, looking much more comfortable. Blessedly, there was no one else in the room. Violet quickly locked the door to the hallway, and pulled the paper from her reticule.

It was, as she had expected, a bank note – or at least it looked like a normal bank note. But from what the men had said, she was almost certain that what she held was actually a forgery.