Chapter 2

Chapter Two

V iolet was curled in a chair reading a book when her sixteen-year-old sister stormed into the room. Isabelle didn’t pause to speak. She simply grabbed Violet’s arm, tugged her to her feet, and dragged her out onto the back terrace. Isabelle moved briskly down the weathered steps and then kept going down the hill toward the shoreline.

When they reached the water’s edge, Isabelle pivoted and continued until they were out of view of the house. Violet didn’t protest, nor did she suggest they stop moving.

Isabelle came to an abrupt halt near some jagged rocks and surveyed their surroundings as if confirming they were alone. When she was apparently satisfied, she looked at Violet and said, “We have a problem.”

Violet swallowed thickly as her sister started pacing.

“What happened?” she asked, as calmly as she could.

Since their father’s death, Violet had made a consistent effort to remain rational regardless of the obstacles life hurled in her direction, but it was not always easy, especially since she had discovered her fiancé Basil’s true character.

Isabelle kept pacing. “I was coming up the lane—I’d gone to visit Betsy—and a carriage rolled by. A fancy carriage drawn by two perfectly-matched horses. I moved to the side and watched as it turned down the lane toward the cottage.” Her hands fluttered at her sides. “I ran through the trees as fast as I could, and?—”

“Lord Greydon,” Violet whispered.

He was not their worst nightmare.

But he was close.

The arrival of the owner of the cottage would ruin everything. Violet had begun to hope that he’d never come, but just because he hadn’t visited in years didn’t mean he would stay away indefinitely. Once they had settled in, she had asked the villagers questions as subtly as she could about the absent earl, and they had happily obliged her. They were a nosy, boisterous lot, and they liked to reminisce about the one and only time Lord Greydon had visited, so it hadn’t taken much prodding to get more information about him than she required. The women were fond of lamenting the fact that they might never see his handsome face again, and every time they had complained about it, Violet had felt a bit more confident that it was safe to remain.

It went without saying that Violet never would have stayed a single night if she’d thought Lord Greydon might appear unexpectedly. How typical of a man to turn up without notice.

Their ruse.

Their safety.

Destroyed by an impromptu visit.

She gazed at the cloudy sky and considered their options. There weren’t many. After all, how would they explain their presence in his house?

They couldn’t. It was inexplicable. They’d have to flee. But how? And when?

“We should leave immediately,” Isabelle said, even though Violet had not spoken aloud. “It’s the middle of the day. If we leave now, we might get away before he learns of our existence.”

“Yes. I mean, no.” Violet sighed. “We can’t leave now. All our things are in the cottage. We’d have nothing left. I don’t even have our remaining funds with me.” It was a foolish oversight that she’d left the little money they had left hidden in her bedchamber at the cottage when it would have been so much smarter to tuck it into her bodice.

“We can’t let him catch us.” Isabelle bit her lip, her voice taking on an edge of worry.

Violet always felt awful when her sister worried, and she hated that her lack of foresight was the cause now. “I know. We won’t…I just need to think.” She pressed her fingers into her forehead as if an answer would suddenly appear if she willed it to. “We can’t panic. Maybe…what if…it isn’t him?”

Isabelle scoffed. “Who else could it be?” Her eyes widened. “You don’t think it might be Basil?”

“No,” Violet immediately assured her sister. “You said it was a fancy carriage with perfectly matched horses.”

“Right.” Isabelle nodded. “Basil doesn’t have a carriage of his own. But if not him, then who could it be other than Lord Greydon?”

“A friend? An acquaintance?” Violet knew she was grasping for possibilities that were unlikely, but if the man in the carriage were anyone else, they might be able to salvage the unsalvageable and leave without anyone discovering the truth of their identities. “We need more information before we decide what to do.”

Isabelle narrowed her eyes and then nodded. “Information…yes. That’s a fine idea.”

“We’ll walk to the village. Gossip about whoever was in the carriage is surely rampant. We’ll feign innocence—say we’ve been out walking all morning—and let the villagers tell us what they know. If it is Lord Greydon, we will”—she clenched her hands tightly at her side—“find a way to disappear. If not, we will take what we know and use it to our advantage so we can collect our things before we flee. We should not sacrifice our belongings and our funds unless we have no other choice.”

The prospect of leaving the tiny seaside village was devastating. The cottage was lovely and comfortable, and the townspeople had been welcoming and kind. Having a safe place to hide was a gift she and Isabelle had been careful to treasure, but now, if they had no other choice, they would leave. They would find a new hiding place, or they would return to London where she could attempt to reclaim her future.

She shuddered at the thought.

“Yes. We will gather more information before we decide anything,” Violet repeated.

Isabelle nodded her agreement, adjusted her bonnet, and gestured in the direction of the village. “Shall we?” The sisters walked side by side along the water until they reached the path that would lead to the road.

Violet and Isabelle’s physical similarities started and stopped with the red curly hair they’d inherited from their mother. Violet was tall and almost painfully thin. Her appetite became diminished when she worried and the ten months since her father’s death had been fraught with worry, so her dress hung loosely from her shoulders. Isabelle was shorter and plumper. She tended to eat more when she was stressed, and her dresses had become almost too snug since they’d settled in the cottage and she’d discovered Mrs. Eggington’s baking prowess.

When they reached the narrow path, Violet took the lead while Isabelle trailed behind. They reached the lane, and Isabelle wordlessly stepped to Violet’s side once again. Together they continued into the village. Lost in trying to determine what they’d do when they left, Violet walked silently, her steps heavy and measured.

“Fancy gent headed toward the cottage. Was it your cousin?” Maud shouted, appearing in the doorway of her tiny house. She shushed the dog at her feet and darted around the boys who were roughhousing in the yard as she briskly approached the short fence that surrounded her property.

One of the biggest gossips in the village, Maud had half a dozen children and a husband who hardly talked. She made up for his silence by chattering constantly.

“Fancy gent?” Violet drew her brows together as if confused. She and Isabelle continued to move toward Maud at a leisurely pace. It never served to seem too eager when seeking gossip.

“You haven’t seen him yet?” Maud asked.

“We’ve been out walking all morning,” Isabelle responded. “Are you sure he was headed toward the cottage?”

“Ack. I’m sure. The boys followed the carriage to the turn and caught a glimpse of him through the window. Problem is they don’t know one fancy gent from another. It must be Lord Greydon though, who else might it be?”

“I couldn’t say,” Violet said, still trying to sound confused. “We haven’t received word that anyone was coming for a visit.”

Maud made a face. “It’s his house, isn’t it? Why would he need to send word?”

“He…well…it’s common to inform the housekeeper so she can prepare,” Isabelle explained.

“You’re living there. What would Mrs. Eggington need to prepare?” Maud snorted and waved her hand in the air as she made an unfortunately valid point. “Did you ever consider that Lord Greydon is the sort who doesn’t like to plan ahead?”

Apparently not.

Violet glanced at Isabelle. “I guess we should head back and greet whoever is visiting.” There was no point in lingering outside of Maud’s if the woman had no further information for them.

“You should invite him to the assembly tomorrow.” Maud giggled and fanned herself. “Ack…imagine a lord at one of our assemblies.”

“Lord Greydon is married,” Violet reminded her. “As are you.”

“Exactly. Aren’t married lords supposed to dance with women other than their wives?” She fanned herself even more dramatically. “I wouldn’t mind dancing with an earl.”

“We can’t?—”

“Mama.” Maud’s oldest son tore up the road from the village. “Did you see the carriage?” He continued speaking without waiting for an answer. “Lord Greydon’s brother passed through the village not an hour past.”

“Brother? You’re sure?” Isabelle asked, her hand darting out to grip Violet’s.

Violet’s stomach unknotted, and the tension in her shoulders released.

She had known that Lord Greydon had a younger brother, but they had not been able to gather much information about him other than an obscure reference to an affair with a married woman in an old scandal sheet. If she remembered correctly, it had been dated more than a year prior. No one in the village knew anything about the brother, so she hadn’t been able to confirm if it was true. For now, the only thing that mattered was that the man in the carriage was not Lord Greydon.

“I heard it from Davey.” The boy panted as he skidded to a stop. “He was at the tavern when the gent stopped to ask for directions. Davey said he’s never seen boots that shiny.” The awe in the boy’s voice was unmistakable. “I wish I’d been there. Do you think he’ll come back to the village so I can catch a glimpse of him too?”

“I have no idea.” Violet’s grip tightened on Isabelle’s hand as she spoke. “I suppose we should head back to greet him.”

It was too much to hope that Mrs. Eggington hadn’t already informed him they were staying in the back bedrooms. Violet could only imagine what else the housekeeper had revealed. Mrs. Eggington could be quite a chatterbox once she got started, and she had no idea they weren’t who they said they were.

Now that they knew who was in the carriage, Violet needed to decide how they were going to handle the earl’s brother. They still had the option to try to sneak in and then back out with as many things as they could possibly carry and then disappear.

Or maybe…what if they could convince the brother that Lord Greydon knew they were staying at the cottage?

If they offered a plausible enough tale, it would give them a chance to regroup before they had to leave. The question was, would he believe them if they told him they were distant relations and guests? Was the risk worth the possible reward?

And if they tried and failed, was he the sort of man to give chase? Or would he allow them to disappear?