Page 45 of These Violet Delights
Alasdair felt the world tilt.
“Do not faint, Mr. Kerr,” Violet said in an urgent whisper. “I fear I cannot catch you if you fall.”
15
The man that hath no music in himself,
Nor is not moved with concord of sweet sounds,
Is fit for treasons, stratagems, and spoils.
The Merchant of Venice—Act 5, Scene 1
“I ask that you allow me time to put this right.” Mr. Kerr extended his open palm, silently asking for the flowers. Violet hesitated. “If it was him, if he confesses, I will see to it that Mr. Lavin is compensated and pay personally for the Florizel to be repaired. Any amends that should justly be made will be. Please, Miss Arden, it is not in my nature to beg, but I will if I must—he is my brother.”
“He’s your brother, and he tried to burn down Pressmore,” she hissed, clutching the flower stems to her chest.
“You don’t know what your forbearance would mean to my family,” he continued, his golden-brown eyes dimmed behind his spectacles.His family.As if she had any interest in protecting the reputation of the Kerrs! He seemed almost to reach for her, then thought better of it. “What it would mean to me.”
Violet stilled. That was harder to understand, harder todisregard. She looked down at the faded monkshood blossoms, their purplish-blue cowls shriveled from the dry cold. They were so fragile, so frail. He took the smallest step toward her, his hand still hovering between them.
“I swear it on the stones of Clafton, I will not let anything happen to you,” he whispered, then tightened his lips together and corrected himself. “I will not let anything happen to y-your family, of course.”
What would she do if their positions were reversed? If Maggie or Winny were in danger of being taken before the justice of the peace, how would she respond? A handful of wildflowers and an oil stain did not exactly place the lit torch in Freddie’s hand, but it certainly smacked powerfully of guilt. She tried to imagine Winny languishing in a jail; her heart crumbled, and she slowly handed Mr. Kerr the monkshood stems.
He didn’t take them. “No. No. I misspoke just now, Miss Arden.Violet.I will not let anything happen to you.”
She pulled up her courage and met his eye squarely. “If there are more fires, Mr. Kerr, I will know you have failed me.”
“I will not fail you,” he assured her. Violet expected that to be that, but Mr. Kerr let the flowers linger between them. He was so close now, she couldn’t escape his scent, his warmth, the intoxicating power of his presence, all the things she tried so desperately to banish from her mind when they were apart. “It would skin me to the marrow to fail you, I think. Do you understand?”
Violet froze, then slowly nodded.
“Do you?” Alasdair asked again, his hand brushing her wrist.
“Our thoughts are one.”
With a great exhalation of relief, he took the flowers,touched his hat, and bowed, then strode away quickly, before Violet could react or even wrap her mind around what had transpired between them. The moment he was gone, she wanted him back.Our thoughts are one.What an absurd thing to say! Yet it had felt like the truth. It was the truth. Nobody and nothing occupied as much space in her thoughts as he did. As she returned to her friends near the wagon, she noticed the preacher, Mr. Danforth, hurrying down the lane and away from the square, headed in the direction of the church. She liked the doddering old vicar there, Mr. Corner, and hoped he was not subject to Danforth’s corrupting influence. While Ann finished her conversation with Mr. Lavin, Violet watched Danforth’s shape diminishing; down by her waist, where no one could see, she made a rude gesture.
“Odious little man,” she muttered.
Emilia sidled closer to her. “Did you find anything in the theater?”
“Nothing definitive,” Violet replied, sidestepping. For once, she decided to keep her mouth shut. If Mr. Kerr was a man of his word, Freddie would never have the chance to set another fire.
Emilia frowned. “There must be something…”
Violet did not respond, terrified she would let something slip.
“Did you see the way Mr. Kerr blushed when I asked about his activities in London?” Ann was upon them, laughing with glee. “Oh, but we must find a way to corner him again and dig for more information. Now I am convinced he is the mystery benefactor!”
It was Violet’s turn to blush and stammer. “That’s ridiculous.”
“He probably fell in love with you after carrying you acrossthe fields!” Ann sighed. “It’s unbearably romantic, like something from one of those novels you’re always reading, Emilia.”
Emilia didn’t seem as delighted and curled her lip. “But why would he do it?”
“He wouldn’t. He thinks my paintings are—”
