“The man I want found is a criminal,” Daniel said. He accepted brandy from Sutton’s butler and sipped it, reflecting that it was some of the best he’d tasted. “A Frenchman by the name of Jacobi Ferrand. He might be dead; he might not. I don’t know.”
“Then go to the police. In France, preferably.”
“The crime was a long time ago. And yes, it involved a woman. I mean to make him pay for what he did.”
Sutton heaved a little sigh, which barely moved his body. His eyes, on the other hand, were ice cold. “Revenge is a waste of time, Mr. Mackenzie. Trust me. Be knight-errant to your woman another way.”
“I intend to pay you handsomely for the information.”
“No doubt. But it’s a fool’s game. I want no part of it.”
Daniel sat back and took another sip of brandy. “I’ll have to convince you, then. She isn’t just any woman. She’s different.”
“So every man has said since time immemorial.”
“Yes, that’s true. I’ve met plenty of women, Mr. Sutton. From a young age, I have had mistresses whose beauty and skills would astound you. Skills they taught to a young man, because I was ever so rich. I also got to know them—courtesans are living, breathing women, you might be surprised to learn. With dreams and ambitions, some longing for a better life, one in which they won’t have to rely on wealthy men’s sons for survival. I became quite good friends with some of the ladies and am still. And then I met Violet.”
Mr. Sutton was listening but striving to look uninterested. “Another courtesan?”
“She’s neither one thing nor the other. Which is why I say she’s different. She’s not from the upper-class families whose mothers throw their daughters at me with alarming ruthlessness. She’s not a courtesan, selling her body and skills in exchange for diamonds and riches. She’s not a street girl from the gutter, selling her body to survive. She’s not a middle-class daughter, striving to live spotlessly and not shame her parents. Violet faces the world on her own terms, making a living the best she can with the skills she has. And everywhere, everyone has tried to stop her. They’ve used her body to pay their debts. They’ve used her cleverness to bring them clients. They’ve used her skills at understanding people to make them money. Everyone in her entire life has used her in every capacity she has, and yet, she still stands tall and faces the world. They’ve beaten her down at every turn, and still she rises. This is a woman of indomitable spirit. And I want to set her free.”
Sutton watched him in silence a moment. “A nice speech, Mr. Mackenzie. You mean you want this woman for yourself.”
“Aye, I do. And I intend to persuade her as hard as I can to stay with me. But first, I need to find this Jacobi and get her free of him—if she is indeed still bound to him. He might be dead. He might have annulled the marriage and remarried. The vengeance part of it, I’ll deal with on my own. I only need you to find him and discover whether his marriage to Violet is legal.”
“And if it is?” Sutton looked more interested now.
“Then I go in with my barrage of solicitors and make it un-legal. Annulment, divorce, whatever it takes. I have plenty of money at my disposal and have many friends in the legal profession in both France and Britain. I don’t anticipate a problem.”
“You have the optimism of the young,” Sutton said. “Anything you want, you reach out and take.”
“It’s a besetting sin of the family. Uncle Hart had his own personal brothel at my age, where he trained ladies in the art of exquisite pleasure. He trained them, not the other way around, the pompous bastard. Dad had his own racing stable, Uncle Mac was already a celebrated artist with a scandalous marriage. I’m a bit late in the proceedings for a Mackenzie.”
“Yes, the famous Mackenzies. I never let my name near the scandal sheets, Mr. Mackenzie. I don’t like people knowing my business. If I find this Jacobi Ferrand, for a little more money, I can make sure you never know what happened to him. No scandal sheets. His name will never be mentioned. But your woman will be free for you to marry or whatever you intend to do with her.”
“I intend to take her ballooning over Scotland. But never mind assassinating him. Just find the man, and I’ll do the rest.”
Sutton gave Daniel a nod. “If you make a mess, or it gets into the newspapers, it will have nothing to do with me. Understand?”
Daniel took one last sip of brandy and rose. He stuck his hand out to Sutton over the desk. “I understand perfectly. News will reach me in Berkshire for the next few weeks, and then Paris at the Grande Hotel. I hope to hear from you before then.”
Sutton closed Daniel’s hand in a strong grip. “I’m sure the journey will be profitable all the way around. Give Mr. Simon my regards.”
Daniel nodded as he released Sutton’s hand, finally seeing a glimmer of respect in Sutton’s eyes. Daniel thanked him again, and departed to put other things in motion.
The brief stay in London was marred by only one incident, but that incident told Daniel that Violet was not as calm as she appeared.
It started innocently enough when the entire family gathered to take tea at Hart’s. The collective children were there, ten of them, from Mac’s adopted daughter, Aimee, who was going on twelve, to wee Lord Malcolm Ian Mackenzie, Hart’s youngest, at the tender age of three.
The children returned to the house with collective nannies, breathless from romping in the park of Grosvenor Square. They all liked Violet, so they mobbed her, Gavina claiming precedence to sit on her lap. Celine looked on indulgently, happy with the children as long as they stayed across the room from her.