Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

V iolet had disappeared during the night, and even though there was little doubt that she’d left of her own accord, Edward was having a hard time believing she’d gone. He wandered through the cottage and replayed the evening in his head over and over, trying to recall every detail, trying to identify the moment she’d decided to flee without a goodbye, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t decide where he’d gone wrong.

It had to have been the kiss.

Except…she’d kissed him.

She’d tasted of wine and smelled like the sea, and he’d quickly become drunk on both. Unable to do anything except kiss her back, he had gotten lost in a desire unlike any he had experienced before. Was that the problem? Had he responded too ardently? Had he projected his own desire onto her?

He rubbed his eyes. He wasn’t an idiot. He was aware that he had crossed a line when he had crushed her into his body and allowed his arousal to press against her belly. He hadn’t meant to go so far, but she hadn’t stiffened or pulled away. If anything, she’d relaxed further and rewarded him with long, drugging kisses, as if she never wanted to stop.

From start to finish, she had kissed him with more enthusiasm than he’d believed possible, almost as if she had been as lost to lust as he had. He’d never had anyone want him with such fervor, and even now that she had left, his blood heated with the memory.

Had he read too much into a single kiss?

It was possible, of course. He was as much a romantic as his mother, and it had been all too easy for him to get swept up in the way Violet made him feel. But even though his mind had been clouded by lust, he didn’t think he’d misread the desire she had for him.

And he didn’t think she’d wanted him to stop.

She’d even gone so far as to try to kiss him again. Ultimately, it had been he who had broken away. Struggling to regain his wits and barely clinging to control, he’d halted the kiss and established a physical distance between them.

It hadn’t even occurred to him that she might leave without talking about what had happened between them. Did that make him an ass?

Or did it simply make him oblivious?

He hesitated in the doorway of the bedroom she’d slept in. There was no longer any reason for him to avoid entering. She’d left nothing behind. Not even a note. Her belongings were gone. Her presence erased.

Clearly, she had no intention of returning.

Moving further into the room, he stopped in the center and inhaled deeply. Her scent had not lingered, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t find it. Not even when he leaned over the bed and sniffed the linens.

Scrubbing his hand down his face, he straightened, slightly appalled by his actions.

He wasn’t the sort of man to pine.

Or was he?

His actions this morning made it seem as if he might be.

Wandering to the window, he peered out. The view was stunning, as he knew it would be. Unruly and vast, with its white crested waves crashing into each other, the sea lacked order and control, much like his thoughts since he’d discovered she had left.

He knew enough about her and her situation that he would probably be able to find her if he looked. His brother’s closest friend had connections everywhere, and Alex likely knew of an investigator who could find people who didn’t want to be found. Edward couldn’t deny that it was probably inadvisable to search for her, but it was difficult to convince himself not to.

While he thought about it, he paced the bedroom she’d slept in. Stared at the sea again. Strained to catch her scent once more. And fought the urge to chase after her himself. Had she returned to London? Or was she off in search of another empty cottage?

His chest ached with the need to know that she was safe. He couldn’t ignore the possibility that she wasn’t. He needed to be certain that she wasn’t being forced into marrying against her will. If he found her and she was well, he promised himself he wouldn’t interfere.

Knowing where she was and that she was safe would have to be enough.

He started out of the room but stopped after only a few steps. Closing his eyes, he once again tried to catch her scent, her essence, but it was useless. She was gone.

He was going to find her.

Committed and resolved, he left her room and went to his own. Pulling out a piece of parchment, he scrawled a short missive.

Alex,

In the course of my recent excursion, I stumbled upon two women, one of whom was seeking to avoid an unwanted marriage. The eldest is Miss Violet Shaw and the younger is Miss Isabelle Shaw. They have since moved on, and I find myself concerned for their safety. If, amongst your contacts, you have an acquaintance who excels in delicate inquiries, perhaps you could ask if they could make a gentle attempt to assess the well-being of the women and report back to me (not Sebastian). I will pay handsomely as long as they remain unaware of my interest.

Much appreciation,

Edward Grey

When he was finished, he sealed the missive and headed to the village.

A less confident man would have had second thoughts as his long legs moved briskly down the lane, but Edward was not one to waver once he settled upon an action.

He posted the letter first and then headed to the local pub.

It was early afternoon, and as such, the pub was mostly empty. He settled into a seat at the counter, and within seconds, the young boy he’d seen when he had first arrived appeared next to him and started talking in a rush of hasty questions and comments.

“Why didn’t you give your cousins a ride into the village? Everyone knows Mr. Robb drives that way early on Wednesdays to make deliveries, but no one expected them to catch a ride. Did you know they almost missed the mail coach? Five minutes later and it would have gone without them. As it was, they hardly had time to board. Do you know why they left? They said nearly nothing to Mr. Robb. He isn’t the sort for conversation, so I don’t believe he even inquired where they were headed.” The boy wrinkled his nose and then eagerly asked, “Do you know where they went?”

Edward couldn’t offer an honest answer because he had no idea, but it would be odd if he admitted he knew nothing, so he said, “I believe their aunt was ill. I intended to see them off this morning, but they were already gone when I awoke.”

The short almost dainty woman behind the bar made a tutting sound. She hadn’t spoken yet, but she’d clearly been listening. “Miss Violet and Miss Isabelle always did seem the independent sort.” She paused and studied him. “Odd timing, though. They were here for months, and then almost immediately after you arrive, they’re called away.”

His heart thumped in his chest. “What are you implying?”

She shrugged. “It’s just curious, isn’t it? You arrive suddenly. They depart suddenly. Almost as if they don’t want to be here if you’re here.”

It was exactly what he’d suggested to Violet when he arrived, but he didn’t take any satisfaction in being right.

“Why would they not want to be here with me?” he asked as casually as he could.

The woman’s eyes narrowed, and he realized he may have miscalculated by coming to the pub. He had wanted to hear the gossip, not become the gossip.

“I couldn’t say,” she responded noncommittally.

He nodded slowly, relieved that she didn’t have a theory she was willing to voice.

“Will they return soon?” the boy asked, his elbow bumping into Edward as he moved restlessly.

“I couldn’t say,” Edward replied, subconsciously mirroring the woman’s comment, even though he was reasonably certain they would never return.

He would never betray Violet by betraying her secrets. But he hated that he couldn’t be honest about the fact that he’d just met her or that he was worried about her.

The woman studied him for another second or two and then said, “What can I get for you?”

Relieved by the distraction of ordering, he asked for an ale and listened to the boy as he chattered endlessly. Was it really only two days ago that Edward had arrived? And was it too soon for him to return to London?

The allure of the cottage had waned now that it held nothing but the memory of her.