Page 6 of The Gentleman Was Right
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?
