Page 9 of The Sound of Seduction (Miracles on Harley Street #4)
The burden of the world seems to press upon us, and my heart cannot rest knowing the peril in which all my children now stand.
Thea, cast adrift and a fugitive in all but name, bears a danger I scarcely dare to imagine.
Alex is soon to follow, burdened with the grave task of securing a match to cement our family’s fragile standing.
And you, my steadfast son, must shoulder this storm with courage beyond your years.
How cruel it is that I must send my children into such a maelstrom when I would sooner send an army if only it were within my power.
The thought of my family scattered in distant lands, exposed to treachery and peril, breaks what little strength I have left.
Were there but a stronghold for us in England, a sanctuary to shield and aid you all, I might find some ease.
The whispers have grown louder—Baron von List is not merely threatening your allies but boasting that he will begin by ‘erasing the women who stand beside the men.’ The gossips say he believes that by removing the caretakers and healers, the warriors will crumble next.
It is not just vengeance—it is strategy, cruel and precise.
Please, my son, do not ignore this. Do not make Thea the first to pay because she’s the closest to you.
Yet we must persist. You must persist. Protect Thea, guide Alex when he arrives, and hold fast to the resolve I know resides within you. The fate of our house and our people is in your hands now, and though it grieves me, I know there is no one stronger to bear it.
Yours always and unrelentingly,
Your Mother
Stan patted his pocket where he’d put the letter after he read it.
It meant too much to set aside and held too much power lest it fall into the wrong hands.
Except Stan didn’t want to worry his friends, the Langleys, either and yet, he feared that List would strike and endanger the people who meant so much to him.
Violet, the Countess of Langley, radiant despite her condition, stood near the base of the sweeping staircase, her ruffled lavender day dress brushing the crimson carpet.
Pregnancy softened her otherwise poised figure, though she carried herself with the same self-assured grace of a young countess who had commandeered ideals of propriety long before she gained the title.
Not that Stan cared for such formalities.
What truly concerned him was the rather inconvenient and dangerous truth of Violet’s determination to travel.
He already had to keep watch for Lady Pippa, Lady Bea, and Nurse Wendy.
The expectant countess was another woman who would surely be at the top of List’s candidates for prey.
“Are you certain this is wise?” Stan asked, stepping forward into the flurry of activity.
His tone was deliberate, masking the discomfort edging at his words.
He glanced between the Countess and the Earl, searching for some sense of practicality to anchor the reckless idea she was presenting.
“Forgive me for speaking plainly, but you’re carrying a child.
The trip to the countryside, no matter how short, can hardly be without risk. ”
Violet turned toward him, an exasperated smile brightening her fair features.
“Stan, I appreciate your concern, truly. But we’re practically traveling with a caravan of our own private doctors from Harley Street.
” Her blue-gray eyes held an unshakable resolve.
“Plus, I won’t miss Bea’s wedding. We were at finishing school together.
Bea and I have been through too much over the years for me to stay behind now. Confinement can wait.”
“You’re hardly confined, but—”
“I’m barely five months. And this dress hides more than there is to hide.” She interrupted with a soft laugh, her fingers brushing over her barely noticeable bump.
“I understand, but—”
“The carriage ride is less than three hours, Stan,” she interjected again, though not unkindly. There was a musical quality to her voice, one that could drown out even his stiffest objections. “And it’s in daylight. Hardly an ordeal.”
His hand instinctively went to the back of his neck, fingers rubbing at the tension mounting there. “Less than three hours becomes far too long if it turns dangerous.”
At this, the Earl of Langley, tall but lean in figure, stepped up beside Violet, having given a few more orders to pack the carriage.
If Stan had hoped for an ally in the Earl, that hope dwindled when the man rested a hand comfortably at his wife’s elbow, his expression unreadable but unmistakably firm.
“I can’t very well allow her to go alone,” Langley said, casting Stan a sidelong glance. “Would you?”
“Of course not,” Stan replied sharply. “But that’s not the point.” He motioned broadly toward the open windows. “There’s a reason I’ve been keeping an eye on everyone.”
“Paranoia?” Violet asked cheekily.
“Preparation.” Stan crossed his arms.
“For what, exactly?” Violet asked, her voice softer now but tinged with curiosity.
Stan tilted his head toward her, studying her for a long beat before answering. “For Baron von List.”
Her hand faltered on the embroidered cuff of her sleeve, and her brow knit faintly. “How do you know we’re his next targets?” she asked, a hint of incredulity creeping into her tone. “He hates so many people, the Crown Jewelers, Baron Stone, Dr. Leafley, he could pick on anyone.”
“Which is why he must be stopped.” The Earl nodded at Stan.
“Considering that the Ton won’t want to miss Lady Bea’s wedding, I think it would be unwise for him to strike at the wedding.
He has enough to do in London with his own wife.
” Violet waved in the direction of the carriage, and the footmen carried her trunks to the front door.
“There will be so many doctors at this wedding, it is as if I was going to a clinic. Right? No party without medical supervision.”
Both Stan and the Earl stared at her, their expressions making it perfectly clear that the answer should have been obvious.
Stan folded his arms and glanced at the parlor door down the corridor. “It was Alfie who made the truth serum. And all of us—every last one—were right in that parlor over there when we poisoned the man against his will.”
Violet paled slightly, though her chin lifted in defense. “That was done with good intentions. We…the circumstances demanded it.”
“Intentions only matter to those concerned with morality. Those on the right side of it, to be exact.” Stan’s voice darkened, his thoughts pulling him back to von List’s calculating gaze, his predatory stance even as the serum forced truths from his lips.
“He isn’t on any side. He’s on his own. He’s gotten away with exploiting the Transylvanian gold mines for too long.
Alfie’s serum—and our interference—humiliated him.
It stripped him of power and control. If you think he isn’t plotting his revenge at this very moment, you’re being na?ve. ”
The Earl’s hand tightened slightly at Violet’s elbow, but she didn’t falter, her jaw set in stubborn defiance.
“And yet, wolf or no wolf lurking beyond that door, I can’t abandon Bea. Not now—not for anything,” Violet declared, leaving no room for protest.
Stan exhaled through his nose, biting back the retort hovering on his tongue.
Society events were far too important to London’s Ton—Violet and Bea being right in the midst of it all.
And logic wasn’t going to win here; it never did when it came to friendships and the bonds women seemed to hold so fiercely.
He tried again, his voice lower, quieter.
“Bea wouldn’t forgive herself if anything happened to you—or the baby—because of this trip. ”
“It’s an argument I can’t win,” the Earl said with a faint shrug, tilting his gaze toward Stan. “Believe me, I’ve tried.”
Stan gave the man a flat look. He didn’t appreciate Langley’s surrender, but he wasn’t entirely surprised by it either. For all his supposed influence, his wife already had him wrapped around her smallest finger—a talent Stan was beginning to see Violet employed quite well.
“Three hours in broad daylight is manageable,” Langley continued lightly as if dismissing Stan’s concern entirely.
Manageable? Stan wouldn’t go so far with the looming shadow of von List darkening every move they made. “I’m taking my carriage with Andre and following close by.”
Still, before he could utter another remark, Violet pivoted on her heel, glancing back at one of the hurried footmen. “Were the trunks loaded properly?” she asked, her voice floating so composedly above the whirlwind around her.
Stan watched her go, shaking his head to himself even as his thoughts churned.
She didn’t pay heed to the gravity of it—the fact that von List wasn’t finished with them yet.
He was certain of that much. The Baron had let some of his motives slip the day they poured that truth serum into his drink, lost his dignity, and there was no telling how far he’d go to reclaim it.
This wasn’t over. Not by a long shot.
The impending ball felt like a narrow valley with sheer cliffs on every side, and List was the predator perched above, waiting for the moment Stan’s guard faltered to rain arrows down.
Stan knew List preyed on the undefended, those too weak or unsuspecting to strike back.
He had seen the malice etched in the man’s actions, from the threats that drove their Jewish friends to trembling silence to the venomous grin that promised vengeance against Violet, Pippa, and Bea.
Their involvement in poisoning him—instigated by Stan himself—made them perfect targets.
He needed a battalion—but all he had were friends too loyal to stay safe.
And the women List would target first.
And Wendy—who’d already become too much to lose.