Page 12 of My Darling Mr. Darling

“That’s fascinating,” Alex drawled. “Really. Do let’s discuss the practicalities of housebreaking rather than the meat of the subject.” He turned his attention to John. “What were they there for? Did they take anything?”

“I have no idea,” John said honestly. “They took only a copy of Townsend’s will as far as I could tell.” Although he suspected that had been more a consolation prize than anything else. “It contained nothing Violet would not already know of.” Except…he had never discussed it with her. He had assumed that her father’s solicitor had done as much, but he couldn’t be certain. Yet another failing on his part, he thought, rubbing his palm over his coat pocket.

To take such a risk, though, she had to have been seeking something important. Something worth more than money—she practically lived in the pocket of a marchioness. There certainly had been a time that she had been destitute and alone, but that time was gone. So whatever it was, it was worth more to her than coin. Sentimental, then. And Townsend’s will had not been that.

John cleared his throat. “Do you suppose you might be able to…gently encourage Serena to teach Violet how to pick a lock?”

Grey’s brows rose. “And why should you wish that?”

“Because,” John said carefully, “I don’t believe she found whatever it was that she was seeking.” Which meant that she would be back.

Which meant that hecouldgiveher things to discover.

∞∞∞

When Serena swept into the townhouse in the early afternoon, Violet was already waiting in the foyer. In a swirl of lilac skirts, she embraced Violet warmly, her face drawn in concern.

“I heard,” Serena said. “Though Grey was beast enough not to tell me until it was too late. I suppose he thought it a fine bit of retribution for my not telling him about our, ah—excursion.”

“Well, I wish he would leave me out of your marital squabbles,” Violet said as they adjourned to the drawing room, where the new downstairs maid, Elizabeth, had laid out a tray of tea and biscuits in anticipation of Serena’s arrival.

“Do you know,” Serena said, as she selected a lemon biscuit and sank down upon the sofa, “I don’t believe he had considered that, exactly. I was given to understand that he had had some words with John.Expectations were set forth, I believe he said.”

Violet handed her a cup of tea and began to prepare her own. “Expectations?”

“He did not elaborate,” Serena said, with a moue of displeasure. “Husbands can be so tedious.” She heaved a sigh, and reached out to clasp Violet’s hand in her own. “I cannot tell you how relieved I was to find you here.”

Violet blinked. “Where else should I be?”

With a little wince, Serena offered, “Well, from the way you spoke of John, I suppose I expected him to have taken you away. I mean to say, I never would have expected it of him but for you—certainly he hasseemedreasonable enough, and Grey was convinced that no harm would come to you, but…I worried nonetheless. A husband does have certain rights over his wife’s person, after all.” A sip of tea, and she sighed. “But you look well enough, I’m pleased to see. Truly, he did not upset you?”

“Of course he upset me,” Violet said, but the truth was, she hadallowedherself to be upset. Mr. Darling had done…very little. It occurred to her only in retrospect that he had had the right to make certain demands of her—which very well could have included shunting her straight off to some rustic countryside estate, where he could lock her away and forget about her. A man might be obliged to support his wife, but there was no such requirement to see her comfortable; nor did she have any right to live separately—or anywhere at all, without his permission.

He had had every legal right to drag her straight out of Serena’s townhouse. To require that she resign her position and submit to his authority. But—hehadn’t.

Serena hesitated, chewing on her lower lip for a moment before at last she whispered, “What did he want, then?”

To know whom it is I’ve married.

The words echoed in her ears still, and Violet suppressed a shudder. “Nothing,” she said. “Except he has prevailed upon his lordship to be a…a student.”

“You don’t have to,” Serena said immediately, and the kindness of it made Violet’s chest ache terribly. “You don’t have to. No one can make you. I would never ask it of you.”

No, she would never. But it was a fine line she tread already; simply because Mr. Darling had not chosen to exercise his rights did not mean hewouldnot—and if she did not accept this situation, it would put Serena in an untenable position, caught between her husband and her friend. She would have to accept Mr. Darling as a student…or she would have to run.

“I’m not afraid of him,” Violet said, and it was, at last, true. But she waswary. He had driven the course of her life for years and years, now. Her avoidance had become instinctual, but—if she ran, she would always be running. She did not want to run again.

How could he possibly know her when she did not know herself?

“I’m not afraid,” Violet reiterated. “How quickly do you think we could assemble a group of gentlemen for a class?”

“Within the week, if you like,” Serena said. “There has been a good deal of interest already. Grey has been accumulating a list of clients for us.” She heaved a sigh. “I suppose you’ll have to take the gentlemen’s class, while I take the ladies, or else we’ll work ourselves into the ground trying to manage both.”

“I don’t want to be alone with him again.” If he had expected lessons to commence in private, he was to be disappointed. In this, she would not compromise.

“Of course,” Serena said. “You shan’t have to be. I’ll make certain Davis knows not to be far from you.”

Good. Yes. And if Serena could source twenty footmen just like him, then Violet might have felt something approximating safely.