“How did you know? Not only a handsome man, but a handsome Scottish man.”
Could the dear girl be any less subtle? “Where is this fortune-teller?”
“In the drawing room.” Lady Victoria’s smile widened. When the waltz ended, she latched her fingers tightly on to Daniel’s arm and all but dragged him out of the ballroom to the drawing room.
The fortune-teller had skin the color of milk-laden tea, wore a voluminous blouse held in place with a black corsetlike bodice, and had covered her head in a closely tied red scarf. Gold rings decorated her slim fingers, and a necklace of coins clinked around her neck.
Her eyes were the same dark blue as when she’d first looked up at Daniel in the house in London, her hands the same gentle ones that had lit the candles.
Violet saw Daniel, took in Lady Vic hanging on his arm, and didn’t miss a beat. She smiled the dark, mysterious smile of a Romany woman, and gestured to the chairs. “Would you like to know your future?” she asked. Her voice was dusky, low. “For but a coin in my bowl, I can reveal all.”
Chapter 15
Daniel’s eyes sparkled with mirth, but he kept his face straight. Lady Victoria plopped herself into a chair and tugged Daniel into another.
He was here, where Violet could reach out and touch him. In spite of Lady Victoria’s presence, Violet saw only Daniel, the chatter of the debutante like the buzz of an annoying insect.
“He wants to know all about his future,” Lady Victoria said. “Especially in regard to his married future.”
The sparkle in Daniel’s eyes turned mischievous. “Aye, tell me something that will put my poor old dad’s mind at ease.”
Violet noted that his accent had become different, less Highland and more working-class Glaswegian. She was good at accents, and Daniel, it seemed, was too.
Violet pushed her bowl toward him. “You must gift me with silver first.”
“How about gold?” Daniel reached into his pocket and dropped a gold sovereign to the top of the lesser coins in the bowl. “That way you’ll give me a very guid fortune.”
“That is English money, my lord,” Violet said. “This is France.”
“A bank will change it for you. And I’m not a lord. Never will be. Just plain Mr. Mackenzie is me.”
He tugged off his glove and laid his hand, palm up, on the table. No soft dandy was Daniel. As Violet had seen on their adventure, he had no qualms about stripping off his gloves and working with his hands. His palms and fingers bore plenty of calluses. Violet recalled how his blunt fingertips had felt when he’d caressed her in the bed, touching her with such gentleness.
Violet rested her finger on the pad below Daniel’s forefinger. Bare skin to bare skin. She could hardly breathe. Even this contact, so small, made her blood run hot.
She couldn’t do this. If she continued touching him, she’d make a complete fool of herself. And possibly she might not care.
Violet let out her breath and lifted her hand from Daniel’s. She pulled the heavy crystal in its stand between them, and Daniel leaned forward, interested.
“What do you do with this?” He touched the sphere. “Test frequencies?”
“For such a deep fortune, I must look into the crystal,” Violet said. “But I must warn you, it does not always tell you what you wish to hear.”
“I’m willing to risk it.”
Still Daniel didn’t smile, but the wickedness in his eyes made Violet want to laugh. He was doing it again, putting Violet into his full focus, making her forget he trained that focus on anyone else.
“You’ll like it,” Lady Victoria said. “You’ll see.” Gone was the girl’s conviction that Violet was a fake. And if she clung to Daniel’s arm any harder, he was in danger of her peeling off his skin right through his coat.
Violet moved her hands over the crystal as she’d been taught, making her movements languid. She peered into the depth of the clear quartz, frowning a little as though she saw something besides the heart of the stone. “Hmm.”
She looked a while longer, making her expression so troubled that Lady Victoria leaned forward worriedly. “Good heavens, what is it?”
Violet gave a dramatic shiver. She made a sign against evil to the crystal, then sat up and rested her hands on the table.
“I’m afraid it is not good, Mr. Mackenzie.”
Daniel’s brows went up. “No? Shall I buy my da a mourning suit? Give my stepma a lock of me hair for a mourning brooch?”
“No, indeed.” The thought, even though he was playacting, made Violet grow cold. She’d thought him dead in London, and that had upset her, but things were different now. Now she knew Daniel. He’d carved his way into her life, and losing him would be hard, too hard.
“What then?” Daniel asked in genuine curiosity.
Violet looked into the crystal again and shook her head. “I see poverty, I’m afraid, Mr. Mackenzie. Bone deep. You shivering in tiny rooms, a fire barely going. There’s a man—you owe him money. He’s beaten you and left you alone. But . . . ah . . . here is a woman. Your helpmeet, I think, though she is dressed in rags. Yes, she holds you, she weeps over you. You try to comfort her, but know you cannot. She is very pretty, this wife. Or once was. Her hair is blond . . .” Violet trailed off, moving her hand over the crystal as though trying to wave away the mists inside.
Lady Victoria had gone pale. “That’s not a true vision. Mr. Mackenzie is ever so rich, and so is his father.”