Chapter 3

Chapter Three

T he cottage was potentially the loveliest dwelling Edward had ever encountered. Situated at the end of a winding lane, it was surrounded by foliage that somehow managed to be almost vibrant even though it was winter. The dwelling itself was constructed entirely of rock and was smaller than he’d expected, but that made it both cozy and welcoming.

After nearly a week of cramped inns, Edward was eager to settle into a place that wasn’t overrun with strangers. He climbed out of the carriage and took a bracing breath of salty air. He had never been to the coast before, but he’d spent nearly all his life in the country, and he instantly felt at home. There was a level of peace—a quietness that could not be found in London.

Maybe he could start painting again while he was here.

He looked around and felt a prickle of inspiration. Turning a complete circle, he smiled to himself. As soon as he untangled Mrs. Eggington’s deception, he would attempt to enjoy the solitude. It would be foolish not to take advantage of this quiet corner of England.

The front door swept open, and a smallish woman sailed out.

“Lord Greydon,” she said with a bobbing curtsy. “Welcome.”

Nothing about her demeanor suggested she was nervous or unhappy about his sudden arrival. In fact, she seemed delighted to welcome him. Or rather she seemed delighted to welcome his brother. He obviously needed to remedy that misconception immediately.

“Mrs. Eggington?” he asked cautiously.

“That’s correct.” She wrinkled her nose, as if confused why he was asking for confirmation of her identity.

“I’m sorry to arrive unannounced,” he said as he moved toward her, studying her carefully and hoping to spot a crack in her composure. Her dark hair was ruthlessly contained in a tight braid, her smile was wide, and her gown was stiffly pressed. She looked exactly like a country housekeeper ought to look, and if she was stealing from his brother, her wide grin was more than a little baffling. “I’m afraid I’m not Lord Greydon. Sebastian is my elder brother. My name is Edward. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

He inclined his head in greeting, but she just blinked rapidly.

“There is a strong resemblance between us,” Edward added, when she still didn’t speak.

The sound of his voice a second time seemed to startle her out of her inspection. “I’ll say.” Her hand flew to her chest. “Are you twins then?”

“We are not. If you saw us together, you’d be able to tell us apart.”

“I’ll have to take your word for it. It’s been a long time since I laid eyes on Lord Greydon, but the resemblance is uncanny. I apologize for assuming.” She gestured toward the house. “We weren’t expecting you, but I can have the master suite ready in a jiffy.”

“I don’t require the master. Any room will do.”

“If your brother isn’t planning on joining you, I suggest you take the master. The misses have the back rooms that overlook the sea, and the only other bedchamber is rather tight and cramped. It isn’t at all suitable for a grown man such as yourself.”

“The misses?” he asked. To his knowledge, Mrs. Eggington resided in the cottage alone.

She tipped her head to the side as if he were daft. “Your cousins.”

“My cousins?” he parroted.

“Miss Violet Shaw and Miss Isabelle Shaw.”

She must have read the confusion on his face because she asked, “Lord Greydon didn’t inform you they were staying here?”

“He…uh…did not.” More curious than alarmed, he didn’t reveal to the housekeeper that he had no cousins by the name of Violet or Isabelle. Nor did he tell her that Sebastian would never forget he had two houseguests in a residence that he hadn’t visited in years.

The entire situation was odd.

And quite illuminating.

It seemed he was going to solve the mystery of the funds before he even entered the house, and fortunately, Mrs. Eggington wasn’t a thief.

Clearly under the misconception that the sisters were invited guests, she had done as any housekeeper would when she purchased the provisions to feed them.

Huffing and shaking her head slightly, she said, “How strange that your brother didn’t inform you they were staying here. They arrived…,” she pursed her lips, “going on six months ago, I reckon. Lovely gals. So helpful. I was delighted when they stayed. It gets a bit monotonous, never having anyone in residence. Lord Greydon doesn’t visit much. I’d say it’s been at least four years since we’ve seen him.” She patted her braid. “Look at me, rambling about your cousins and your brother, when I ought to be showing you the house and helping you get settled.” She turned and headed toward the still open door. “You’re probably exhausted from all the travel.”

He followed slowly, listening with half an ear as she kept chattering, his brain churning with questions. What were two women doing sleeping in the rear bedrooms? And why were they pretending to be his cousins?

He interrupted her steady stream of words to ask, “Miss Violet and Miss Isabelle. Are they here now?”

“Miss Isabelle went out this morning. I don’t believe she has returned. Miss Violet though, was in the rear sitting room reading a book last I checked.”

“Perhaps you could show me the way? I can hardly wait to speak with her.”

Mrs. Eggington beamed at him and gestured toward the narrow hallway.

“Are you and your cousins close?” she asked.

“Not especially,” he responded noncommittally. He couldn’t say precisely why, but he refused to expose to the housekeeper the fact that he knew nothing of these women who were living in the cottage until he’d had the chance to gather more information about them.

Mrs. Eggington pushed open the last door on the left. A half-empty cup of tea and an abandoned book sat on a small table next to a plush chair, but otherwise the room was empty.

“Hmm. She was here just a bit ago. Perhaps she stepped outside.” The housekeeper moved toward the large windows that faced the sea and peered out. “She’s fond of walking along the water, but I don’t see her now.” She shrugged. “I’m sure she’ll return for afternoon tea. You can reunite with her then.” She turned away from the window. “In the meantime, let me show you the rest of the house.”

He followed her out of the sitting room, more intrigued than he’d been in some time. He could not wait to uncover the mystery of Miss Violet Shaw and Miss Isabelle Shaw.

* * *

Every step Violet took toward the cottage felt like a kilometer. Her feet were as heavy as her heart. It was worse than when she and Isabelle had left London, because this time, rather than running away from peril, they were headed directly for it. Was she making a mistake by returning to the cottage?

She second-guessed the decision countless times as they followed the path through the woods.

Would they be able to fool Lord Greydon’s brother?

And if they couldn’t, what would he do to them?

Would he have them charged with a crime? Would he call the magistrate? If he did, would she be able to convince everyone that it was simply a misunderstanding?

She hated being at someone else’s mercy, and there was no way to know what kind of man he was, so there was no way to predict his reaction. Clenching her hands as tightly as she could, she kept walking. Under no circumstances would she allow herself to succumb to nerves.

Mrs. Eggington appeared in the doorway of the rear sitting room as if she’d been waiting for them, and the hope Violet had harbored of sneaking into the house undetected was dashed before they even made it inside.

“You’ll never guess,” Mrs. Eggington said breathlessly, her hand resting on her bosom.

“Guess what?” Violet responded dutifully, as her mind churned with more important questions, such as, what had the housekeeper revealed about them to the visitor?

“We have a guest,” Mrs. Eggington said, practically bouncing with enthusiasm. It would have been charming in another situation. At the moment, it only added to Violet’s stress.

“Lord Greydon?” Isabelle asked with a convincing lack of artifice.

“Close.” Mrs. Eggington grinned widely now. “His younger brother, Edward. Although, I do have to admit that I thought it was Lord Greydon when he first arrived. They look practically identical, and even though he claims I’d be able to tell them apart if they were together, I’m not sure it’s true.” She shrugged. “It hardly matters now. Although, heavens, it would have been embarrassing if he’d been offended when I referred to him as Lord Greydon. Thankfully, he seems like a decent fellow, so he wasn’t at all bothered by my mistake.”

“You had never met him before?” Violet asked, even though she knew Mrs. Eggington hadn’t. For as long as possible, she was going to keep the housekeeper focused on Edward rather than herself or her sister.

“Oh no. Only Lord Greydon came when he first acquired the property. I don’t recall him talking about his family. Come to think of it, he wasn’t very talkative at all. He kept to himself while he was here. His brother seems friendlier—easier to talk to, although he was quite disappointed that neither of you were here to greet him.” She paused. “Not to suggest he was upset, just regretful that he hadn’t sent word of his arrival. I promised him we would have been waiting if we had known he was coming.”

“Where is he now?” Violet asked as casually as she could manage.

“Retired to his bedchamber. I told him you’d surely return in time for tea, and I believe he wished to freshen up a bit first.” Mrs. Eggington glanced out the window as she bustled toward the hallway. “Do you think it’s too chilled to enjoy tea on the terrace?” And then, before either of them had a chance to respond, she laughed. “What am I thinking—of course it’s too cool. Tea at the regular time in the regular spot, yes?”

They both mumbled an affirmative, and she disappeared from the room.

“It seems that he didn’t reveal that he doesn’t know us,” Violet whispered to her sister.

“But what could that mean?” Isabelle responded, her voice equally quiet.

“I hardly know.” Violet scrubbed her hands down her face, woefully unprepared even though she’d had months to imagine what they’d do if they were caught. “I think we should approach him directly. It’s the only way we will truly know our options.”

Isabelle squeaked. “You wish to speak to him? What happened to sneaking out? What if he’s furious?”

“Then we’ll know what we are dealing with. I will try to convince him we belong here, and if I can’t, well, I’ll beg him to allow us to leave,” she said, even though she had a hard time imagining herself begging. “Let’s talk to him before tea. We can’t have a frank conversation with Mrs. Eggington bustling in and out, and I’d like to avoid her discovering our subterfuge if possible.” It was probably a foolish hope, but nevertheless, Violet would do what she could to delay the housekeeper discovering their true identities until after they had left. “We can slip into his room and speak to him there.”

Isabelle blinked. “We cannot go into his bedchamber.”

“It isn’t ideal, but what other choice do we have?”

Without waiting for a response, Violet spun on her heel. “Let me do the talking,” she said over her shoulder as she started to climb the stairs.

* * *

The master bedchamber was as welcoming as the rest of the house. Larger than Edward had expected with comfortable furniture that made it surprisingly cozy. He didn’t understand why Sebastian never visited; he’d only been here an hour, and he was already completely charmed.

Moving to the window, he peered out.

The afternoon light was weaker than he preferred, but once again he had the urge to get his paints out anyway. It was odd for him to be inspired by scenery, especially in the winter. He rarely painted landscapes and generally preferred portraits, but something about this view revived his desire to create. He wished he could experience a second-floor view of the sea, but he wasn’t so crass as to go into bedchambers that were being used by young women he didn’t know.

Even if those women weren’t supposed to be there.

A scraping sound came from behind him.

He turned and looked over his shoulder. His eyes widened as the door to his bedchamber slowly swung open. Almost silently, a tall woman slipped into the room followed by a slightly shorter woman. Their tightly coiled red hair marked them sisters, as did the brush of freckles across their noses and the tense expressions on their faces.

The shorter one shut the door soundlessly.

His heart skipped a beat when his gaze collided with the taller one. She was more composed than he expected and not at all threatening. He willed himself to wait for her to speak rather than demanding answers to the many questions floating around in his head.

She kept staring at him as the silence settled. She did not appear frightened. Neither did she appear confident. It was an odd juxtaposition and only increased his curiosity.

Edward kept waiting for her to speak, but she kept staring at him without speaking. He darted a glance at the other woman, but she, too, was simply watching him. It should have been unnerving. It was unnerving, but he wasn’t uncomfortable. Just intrigued.

The taller one frowned suddenly.

She was thin, her cheekbones prominent, her eyes somewhere between brown and green, and her skin altogether too pale. The shorter one leaned to the side and gently nudged the taller one. She had a rounder face, darker eyes, and skin that flushed under his scrutiny.

Neither of their gowns fit particularly well, and both were a bit frayed. With three well-dressed sisters and an extravagant mother, he could tell the fabric was fine and the artistry excellent. He felt certain that their dresses had been sewn by a professional seamstress, and he couldn’t help wondering if they were simply down on their luck. Although that didn’t really explain how they’d ended up in the cottage.

Unable to wait any longer for an explanation, he kept his gaze on the taller of the two as he smiled congenially and moved forward. She shifted on her feet so she was slightly shielding the shorter one, as if she were trying to protect her from him. He made an effort to appear non-threatening when he halted a few steps away.

“Mr. Edward Grey,” she finally said in a soft voice. “Forgive us for intruding on you in your bedchamber. We felt it prudent to speak to you in private and could not determine another way to do so.”

“Miss Shaw?” he asked.

She nodded once. “That is correct. I’m Violet, and this is Isabelle.” She gestured to her sister and kept talking. “We are delighted that you are here. I understand that you’ve already met Mrs. Eggington. If I may be so bold, what did she tell you about us?”

Her audacity surprised him.

She dared to ask him what he knew about them?

He was used to strong-willed women and their blunt questions. His sisters and mother rarely tempered themselves. His mother, in particular, preferred outrageousness to discretion, and while his mother generally seemed to relish her shocking behavior, Violet did not appear to be trying to provoke him. “Mrs. Eggington informed me that my cousins would be delighted to see me.”

“Your cousins.” Her flinch was barely discernible, but he was watching her closely enough to spot it. “I suppose it is too much to hope that you remember us?”

There was nothing to remember.

“You are not my cousins.”

Her composure did not waver. “You seem quite sure of that.”

“I do not have many cousins. It would be impossible for me to forget two of them.” He paused and then explained, “I have an aunt and uncle on my father’s side. They have daughters who are married with children. There is no one else.”

Her gaze briefly flitted to the ground. “Perhaps we are more distant cousins. Or related to you through your mother.”

He knew they were not related, but her casual suggestion almost made him doubt himself. “I do not believe so. Even if there was a branch of the family that I was unaware of, my brother is not the sort of man to allow two unmarried women to stay in one of his residences without a chaperone—whether they are cousins or not.”

“Lord Greydon may not be aware we are here.”

“May not?” He raised his brow.

Violet’s expression remained impassive. “And if we were not related to you?”

“Then maybe you ought to tell me why you’re here.”

“Does the why make a difference?”

“I imagine it does.”

“Our reasons are…,” she pursed her lips, “unimportant.”

He couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped. He could think of nothing that was more important than why they were there, and for some reason he was strangely delighted that she didn’t want to tell him. It made her more compelling and kept him on his toes. Talking with Violet was a bit like talking to Belinda, especially after she’d returned from London and her failed season.

“Are they?” he asked.

“Perhaps.” She squinted at his trunk in the corner of the room. “We did not realize you were coming for a visit. If we had known, we would have been better prepared.”

If they’d known, they probably would have left before he arrived.

That would have been a tragedy.

“If I had required a welcoming party, I would have sent word.” He paused, enjoying the way her eyes narrowed the slightest bit as she waited for him to continue. “In all honesty, I wanted my arrival to be unexpected. You see, somewhere around six months ago the expense reports increased for no obvious reason. My brother intended to send his secretary to investigate, but a more pressing crisis arose, and I volunteered to come instead.”

“Ah.” Violet exhaled quietly. “I hadn’t considered that our presence would be noticed by Lord Greydon whether he was here or not. I suppose I should have realized.”

She sounded almost forlorn, and he rushed to assure her. “There isn’t much that escapes Sebastian’s notice. He’s highly organized, and he takes his obligations too seriously to allow his properties to be unsupervised. He might not visit, but he is not unaware of what happens here. Except in this, I suppose. Neither of us thought that my investigation would conclude as soon as I arrived, but we also didn’t consider that there might be such a simple explanation. Rather uninspired of us, wasn’t it?”

He shrugged and then smiled in an attempt to put her at ease.

She didn’t react in any way.

Why was she so inscrutable? And what on earth could she be hiding?

“How can you be sure we are uninvited?” she asked, as if she had not already admitted that they were.

She would lead him in circles if he allowed it.

“I have come at my brother’s behest, and as I said, there’s no chance that he invited you to stay here alone and then sent me to investigate the bookkeeping. He would not have forgotten you were here.”

Her eyes closed briefly, and her face twisted with discomfort.

Catching a glimpse of her distress, he wished his tone had been gentler. He didn’t want to upset her, and he definitely did not mean to accuse her of anything. He simply wanted an honest explanation of her actions. “I was not implying—will you please tell me why you’re here? What reason do you have for pretending? For lying about your identity?”

She did not react outwardly, but when she spoke her words were measured and almost too calm. “We shan’t bother you further. If you’ll allow it, we will pack our things and be on our way by morning.”

He was undeniably frustrated by the lack of details she was willing to provide. It was not possible for him to be more accommodating or understanding, and she didn’t seem to have a scrap of appreciation for his patience. “No. I won’t allow it. Not without an explanation.”

Her eyes flashed in warning. “I do not owe you an explanation.”

“Maybe not. However, this cottage does not belong to you, nor do you have permission to be here.”

She visibly deflated, and even though he wanted an explanation, he redirected the conversation and asked, “Do you wish to leave?”

“That is hardly relevant. We cannot stay now that you are here.”

Her tone implied that he ought not be here, and once again he couldn’t help admiring her nerve. He glanced at her sister, who still had not spoken. It was clear from the expression on Isabelle’s face that she was not going to tell him anything, so he turned back to Violet.

“Do you wish to leave?” he repeated. “Because if you want to stay, I cannot see any reason why my cousins and I cannot remain here together.” In truth, there were probably dozens of reasons, but none of them seemed particularly important at the moment.

Violet sighed. “We are not your cousins.”

The truth.

He grinned encouragingly, but she did not continue. Conversing with her was like pulling teeth. “I know you aren’t my cousins. And you know you aren’t my cousins, but correct me if I’m wrong, everyone else believes we are related. We can continue to perpetuate the lie. You do not need to worry. I did not come here to oust you, nor do I intend to reveal your deception. You will remain safe as long as you are here.”

“That is unequivocally untrue. You came to unravel a deception. We are the deception.”

The flashes of anger he kept glimpsing intrigued him as much as everything else, and he made a snap decision. “I suppose that is true, but I’m not heartless. I came to uncover the reason, not to remove it. Now that I know you are here, I want to help. I will protect you from whatever you are running from, and if I cannot, you may remain as long as you wish. I would never allow young ladies to venture forth without proper protection. I am a gentleman.”

Honor would compel him to protect them regardless of their reasons. It might not be his cottage, but he would convince Sebastian to allow them to stay.

Her hands found her hips. “The only thing you know about us is that we lied about being your cousins and lived in your brother’s cottage for months without an invitation.” She bit her lip. “Why would you offer us your assistance?”

His chest puffed out as if he were a knight ready to rescue a maiden from some dastardly evil. “You’re obviously in some sort of trouble. What sort of gentleman would I be if I didn’t offer assistance?”

During his childhood, he’d had little experience with honorable men. His father had been a wastrel, and his uncle had all but ignored him. After his father’s death, Sebastian had left Greydon Hall. With only his mother and sisters for company, Edward had missed his brother fiercely. He’d filled the void of being left behind by becoming useful and helpful and dependable. He’d become an honorable man in spite of a lack of examples.

Violet’s mouth closed and opened and then closed again.

“According to Mrs. Eggington, you’ve been delightful guests, and regardless of your reason for being here, I intend to help you.”

Isabelle stepped forward so she was shoulder to shoulder with Violet and spoke for the first time. “You don’t seem angry about the fact that we have been pretending to be kin.”

“Isabelle,” Violet warned.

“Why would I be angry? I have nothing to be angry about.” He didn’t mention that lately his energy was consumed by being dissatisfied with his gilded life, because that would make him seem ridiculous.

“Most men would be angry to find us here,” Isabelle informed him.

If that was true, most men were fools. It could not be clearer that Violet and Isabelle had not had malicious intent when they’d said they were his cousins.

He tried to sound patient when he said, “I promise you I’m not angry, and I will do whatever I can to help. If you explain your predicament, it will be easier for me to assist you.”

“We will leave as soon as our bags are packed,” Violet announced loudly, causing his heart rate to increase.

“And go where?” Isabelle put her hands on her hips. “We were nearly out of funds when we arrived, and we have made no plans. Where will we go next?”

“Stop,” Violet snapped at her sister. “We cannot remain here. You know we can’t.”

She was no easier to read now that her control was cracking. If she hadn’t been clinging to the hope they could remain, why had she invaded his bedchamber? Why hadn’t she left immediately?

“I assure you,” he said, offering his most charming smile, “you don’t need to leave. Maybe we could continue our discussion over tea.”

Without giving her a chance to argue, he ushered them both out of his bedchamber and down the stairs. He did not stop until they reached the sitting room, where he settled them next to each other and took the chair opposite.

“What can you tell me about the village?” he asked, hoping that the change of location and an innocuous question would help lower their defenses and convince them to trust him.