A Cozy Little Murder: A Violet Carlyle Cozy Historical Mystery (The Violet Carlyle Mysteries Book 24

instead of rushing through dressing for their dinner plans.
“I was thinking—” She had no idea what she was going to say, so she said, “about Spain for Christmas.”
Jack turned and lifted his brows, and there was something in his face that told her the idea had slivered into his imagination and that he wanted to go.
“We should definitely go.” Jack grinned widely, and she added, “We should revisit our honeymoon location while we’re there.”
Jack paused and then leaned in and placed a kiss on the top of her head. “I should like that, though I think we’ll have to rid ourselves of the rest of our family and save that part of the trip for just us.”
Vi felt as though he’d stabbed her through the heart with a dagger made of guilt. She wrapped her arms around his waist. She turned her face away before leaning into him so her face powder wouldn’t smudge his suit.
“I would like that.”
Jack pulled back, and his gaze moved over her face with so much love that she winced with the guilt of it. “Are you all right?”
“No,” Vi said against his chest. When he stiffened against her, she added, “Yes. I’m fine. All is well. It’s fully all right.”
“That felt very conflicted,” Jack said gently. He put his finger under her chin and turned her face to his. “Are you all right?” he repeated.
The question was slow and precise and Vi deliberately met his eyes as she nodded. “I really am fine.”
“Then why—” There was a knock on their door and Jack called, “Yes?”
“The car is ready, sir,” Hargreaves said.
“We’ll be right there.”
Jack didn’t move an inch, however. He was as steady as a mountain as he looked at Vi.
“I really am fine,” Vi told him, firmly. “All is well. I have something to tell you that is not of immediate import, but I suppose I know that you’ll be upset.”
“So you aren’t going to tell me?” Jack didn’t sound in the least pleased, and Vi didn’t blame him.
“No, I’ll explain fully,” Vi swore. “Just after—”
She tried trailing off, but he waited. He wanted a full explanation, so she said, “Jack, we’re going out with friends, and I know you’ll be upset, and I don’t really want to argue before we go.”
“Why would we argue?”
Vi groaned and gave in. “Smith needed Beatrice for one of his cases today. She couldn’t go, so Rita and I went. In the process, a man grabbed my arm. I’m fine but the bruise is dark.”
Jack went from tense to statue-like, and Vi groaned again.
“Smith put you in danger?”
“No,” Vi countered. “I did. It’s not like he could force me to wear some ugly dress and walk into a pub to distract his quarry if I didn’t want to.”
“Ugly?”
Vi grinned wickedly, unable to hold back a laugh. “Not the least bit fashionable.”
Jack paused. “Ham isn’t as used to your hijinks as I.”
“Oh yes,” Violet countered with a laugh, “you’re the king of tolerant husbands whereas poor Hamilton Barnes is nothing but a man run ragged.”
“He will be.” Jack shook his head. “I wonder if Rita will confess.”
“Confess?” Vi snapped. “Confess! For what?”
Jack placed a kiss on her head. “I’d rather you just tell me.”
“Don’t play games with me, sir. The moment you are done pretending to be the most tolerant and modern of husbands, you’re going to be stewing over what could have happened and then you’re going to consider violence to poor Smith.”
Jack’s gaze narrowed. He was fighting back his reaction to growl or punch or stomp or something else equally manly, so Vi pushed up on her toes and kissed his jawline. His hands roved down her arms, and she wasn’t dim enough to think he was doing anything other than looking for a wince. She steeled herself without flexing a muscle, and when his fingers moved gently over her bruise, she didn’t give him the slightest of reactions.
“Jack, darling,” she said easily when their fingers were wound around each other’s, “I should like to dance and to have a drink and to enjoy the evening without worrying that you’re upset. Things went a little sideways when Smith didn’t think they would. He would never have brought Beatrice to that place alone if he expected her to face a real threat.”
“I’m still going to, at the least, cut his car tires.”
Vi considered telling him that poor Smith’s auto had already been ravaged, but she imagined that the remarkably reasonable reaction was subject to falling to pieces should he realize the rest and Vi wasn’t sure she’d feel so bad for Smith if his car tires were cut.
“You’re in trouble,” Denny told Vi as he giggled and then handed her a French 75. “It’s the cocktail of the evening.”
Rita raised her glass to Vi as Jack seated her.
“They’re fizzy,” Lila said, with a slow grin. “Or, so I understand.”
“Mmm,” Vi said, shooting her gaze to Jack and then realizing that everyone else had their gazes focused on her arms, her extra-long gloves, and the wrap.
“Have you heard?” Ham asked with the look of a man who wanted to murder Vi and Rita. His expression was dark, but Rita simply lifted her glass again and winked.
“We were fine,” Rita told Ham. “No need to retroactively worry when here we are, perfectly fine.”
“Except for the bruise Vi is hiding,” Victor shot out. He looked as furious as Jack, but her twin knew better than to lash out at her in worry and expect things to go swimmingly.
“You know I bruise easily,” Vi said smoothly. “I’ve got a dramatic one on my thigh that I can’t remember where I got. Stop being a mother hen.”
“Someone needs to mother hen you.” Victor sniffed and then sipped his cocktail as though he weren’t hiding his irritation. “You need a keeper.”
Vi lifted her brow, challenging his opinion with a solid stare. Their silent argument raged between them and ended when Victor’s cocktail was gone. He flagged down the waiter and then