Page 26 of The Gentleman Was Right
Or determine whether they would be a suitable match.
But he hadn’t hesitated to kiss her anyway.
One look at her face as they reentered the assembly had him deciding not to mention anything related to the kiss, his intentions, or hers, until after they’d had a chance to refresh themselves with a night’s rest.
* * *
Feigning normalcy, Violet sat next to her sister in the carriage and listened as Isabelle chattered cheerfully. The ride passed quickly, requiring very little from Violet.
It was late enough when they returned that she was able to bid Edward goodnight, whisper instructions to Isabelle, and slip into her room without alerting anyone to her turmoil.
She had realized almost immediately once she regained her wits that there was nothing for her to do now except return to London. She had crossed a line that she shouldn’t have crossed, and the consequences could be far reaching if she remained.
She feared she would fall in love with Edward if she stayed another day.
Once in her room, she made quick work of packing her things. It didn’t take long. It wasn’t as if she had much. When she was ready, she forced herself to sit quietly while the moon shot a beam of light across the darkened floorboards. Because she wanted to leave without any fanfare or notice, she decided to wait until just before daybreak to sneak out.
In an unusual stroke of luck, the mail coach would be passing through the village quite early, and Violet intended to do whatever was needed to ensure that she and Isabelle were on it.
When it was finally time, she collected her sister, crept down the narrow staircase, and slipped into the night. They were silent as they made their way down the dark lane, not even whispering until after the cottage was out of sight.
It was only a minute or two before they saw Mr. Robb’s cart appear in the distance. His delivery route would take him through the village and with a few simple words, they gained a ride. It was quick and easy to secure passage on the mail coach once in the village, and they were on their way as streaks of light shot across the countryside.
Violet clutched Isabelle’s hand as they careened toward London, but she didn’t offer an explanation for her rash actions, and her sister didn’t press her to explain.
Instead of dwelling on what had happened between her and Edward, Violet wracked her brain for what she would do if she couldn’t convince Basil to dissolve their betrothal.
ChapterEight
Violet 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.
