Page 7 of The Gentleman Was Right
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. “Wecannotgo 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.
