Then Comes Murder

Dancing with Devils (part five)

It was just in the nick of time when Jacob decided that he could not longer avoid dinner. He was nervous—he had reason enough. Tonight would be the first occasion he'd choose to endure the company of his father since he'd left Leverett Hall over ten years ago. Though he had imagined many more encounters with the duke, Jacob had forgotten precisely how large the manor was. Provided that he skipped the formal meals, it had been simple enough to avoid his father—and, for that matter, all of the insipid guests George and Caroline had invited for this ridiculous affair.

He had imagined himself quite pleased with the fact until he realized the manor was large enough for the same insipid guests to get lost in.

Miss Violeta Ingram seemed absolutely aghast when he'd found her in the south hall. It had been his mother's doing, naturally, to ensure that all of the unmarried ladies had rooms far from those of the unmarried men. So while the ladies occupied the eastern guest rooms on the second landing, which included the largest of the guest rooms (and the one that had been turned into a rose and cream sanctuary for Caroline), the men occupied the rooms on the other side of the grand staircase. If his father was a stern traditionalist, the duchess was the authority on propriety.

For a moment, Jacob had thought it was Lady Eleanor who was passing through the south hallway, staring at the portrait of his grandparents, and his mind had filled with all sorts of wicked reasons for why she'd be alone near the men's guest rooms. But as the woman turned and audibly gasped at the sight of him, Jacob realized his mistake. A willowy, dark-haired girl, Violeta Ingram bore a passing resemblance to the woman he couldn't erase from his thoughts. Both were tall and dark, but Eleanor's hair was rich with strands of auburn and gold, her eyes were clearer and cleverer. Violeta was a pretty enough girl, but her wide eyes sparked no interest for him. That and it seemed she was caught in terror. Her hand was placed at her chest, as if the organ below it might burst from her breast.

"Are you alright?" he asked. Jacob did not particularly want to be found alone with her. There were already too many speculative whispers about his imagined sins. He did not wish to add another; nor did he wish to incite the single-minded matchmaking endeavors of Mrs. Ingram.

"Oh! Lieutenant! You've given me a fright is all," she said softly after a small fortifying breath. Her color improved with the second. Violeta smiled prettily. "I'm afraid I'm terribly lost. I must have missed the staircase."

"Shall I escort you?" he asked. It seemed ridiculous that she would have missed the staircase on her way through the hallway, but her long-lashed, unblinking brown eyes reminded him a bit of a cow. Perhaps cows' eyes could not see sweeping staircases than spanned half a landing.

"That would be most kind," she murmured with a flutter of said eyelashes. "I would be quite disappointed to be late for dinner."

As she accepted his offered arm, Jacob decided that he was the most foolish man alive. Certainly a wiser man would have skipped dinner and headed straight for village inn. No, a wiser man would have refused to return to the manor at all. Or perhaps the wisest man would have burned that letter Charlie had sent him. No matter the wisest course of action, Jacob decided that walking Violeta Ingram to a dinner from Hell was certainly the worst choice he could have made.

The feeling grew as the chit continued to blink her eyes at him. He asked a few polite questions regarding her journey from London, but Violeta only seemed capable of answering in breathy giggles. He was filled with annoyed regret: he should have pointed her in the correct direction and let her find her own way to the dining room. That irritation with himself nearly boiled over as they descended the great staircase—Violeta still smiling and blinking at him—for every eye turned towards him with shameless interest. A chorus of whispers raced through the guests.