Free Haunting Violet by Alyxandra Harvey

couldn’t ignore the pale glimpse of moon-touched water from where the hills gave way to the manicured lawns of Whitestone Manor.
    The bushes rustled beneath my balcony. There was a muffled curse.
    â€œKeep your voice down. Do you want to wake the entire house?”
    I knew that tone, bitter, disapproving. Caroline Donovan, Tabitha’s governess.
    â€œDarling, you worry too much.”
    I didn’t recognize the second voice, male and all smug condescension. I crouched down so I wouldn’t be seen and peered through the gaps between the stone railings. The ground was cold under my feet.
    â€œEveryone’s asleep,” the man reassured her, sounding vaguely bored. I could see only the cuff of his dark jacket and the gleam of his boots. Caroline was half wedged into the yew bush, staring all around her. What on earth was Tabitha’s governess doing here at this time of the night?
    â€œI don’t know about this,” Caroline murmured.
    â€œIt’s too late now,” he said cheerfully.
    â€œBe serious, won’t you?”
    â€œWhy bother? You’re serious enough for the both of us.”
    â€œWe have to be careful.”
    â€œDid you pull me out here for that? I’ve cards to play and brandy to drink.” The answering silence was strained, brittle. Not that he noticed, apparently. “At least give us a kiss.”
    I wasn’t the only one with secrets. I shifted to ease the pressure on my knees and tripped on the ribbon of my dressing gown. I tumbled with a muffled “oof.”
    â€œDid you hear that?” Caroline asked fearfully.
    I froze, squeezing my eyes shut as if that would help me be invisible. I pried one eyelid open. From this angle I could see a third person watching them from the privacy of a rose arbor. I only chanced to see him because from this angle, the moonlight gleamed on his silver cravat pin. He scanned the gardens, his face hidden in the shadow cast by his hat.
    â€œProbably nothing,” Caroline’s mysterious beau murmured. “All the same, you should get back.”
    They parted without another word, Caroline sneaking away across the lawn, the man easing back inside. After a few moments, I straightened, rubbing my elbow, which was now throbbing as much as my knee.
    â€œPsst.”
    I swatted away what I assumed was a fly. But the noise came again, from below me in the shadow-thick gardens. The white roses seemed to glow in the faint moonlight.
    â€œPsst!
    I leaned over the railing. “What?”
    It was hardly what Juliet might have said to Romeo, or indeed what any well-bred girl might say. I probably ought to have giggled enticingly or shrieked and dove under my blankets.
    Instead, I leaned farther and nearly toppled right out.
    Colin emerged from behind a decorative hedge shaped like a mermaid. The gardens were as crowded as Covent Garden on market day. He looked as handsome as any young lord, even with the coarse wool of his coat and the calluses that I knew ridged his palms.
    â€œShouldn’t you be in bed?” For some reason, saying it made me blush. He grinned.
    â€œShouldn’t you?”
    I almost told him why I couldn’t sleep. I almost told him about the water in my room and about the drowned girl and the way she looked at me: hopefully, pleadingly, demandingly.
    But I didn’t.
    â€œSomeone will see us,” I said instead. I hated how proper and prim I sounded.
    I could have sworn he was disappointed. Since that hardly made sense, I ignored it. He bowed once, mockingly. I turned and sailed back inside, shutting the door pointedly behind me.
    I couldn’t say why he seemed to follow me, invading my empty bedroom and my thoughts.
    Or why I found it comforting.

    I woke up scowling. I scowled through my cup of tea, I scowled when Marjorie brushed my hair, and I even scowled at the sunlight when it fell prettily through the windowpanes onto the carpet.
    It was early. Too early.
    I