She hadn’t heard that name in… years.
“The Marquess of Coventry’s younger brother?” Greystone asked.
Iris nodded.
“Why would this concern Aunt Violet?” Posy asked.
Mr. Cockfield reached over Violet’s shoulder and refilled her cup of tea.
“He was Captain Donovan’s father,” Violet answered, feeling an odd combination of weakness and determination come over her. The very last thing she wanted was for the details of her engagement unearthed.
“Your dead fiancé?” Posy asked. Violet never brought his name up if it wasn’t necessary, but Aunt Iris occasionally mentioned the engagement.
“Lord Percival was a good man. I’ll make sure to send my condolences to the Duke of Coventry.”
“And he is…?” Posy asked.
“Lord Percival’s brother.” Christopher’s uncle.
Lord and Lady Percival had doted on their son, who had been an only child, but Christopher had resented their interference in his life—even if that interference had been needed. In the end, Christopher had reminded Violet of Icarus, daring and exciting but also reckless. Oddly enough, it had been part of his charm.
But it hadn’t been necessary for him to join up. There’d been no good reason for him to sail off and take part in an imperialistic war. Violet knew that now.
She’d considered him terribly heroic back then.
“Lady Percival passed away two years after Christopher’s disappearance. I don’t think she ever got over losing her son.” Saying his name ought not to chill Violet’s blood as it did—nine years had passed—and yet doing so summoned feelings she’d fought long and hard to extinguish.
Anger. Despair.
Shame.
“Disappearance?” Posy swiveled her head from Violet to Iris. “I thought he was killed.”
“He was. That is, he was pronounced dead, but his body was never recovered. The army officially lists him as missing.” Violet lifted her cup to her mouth, grateful to see that her hand was only shaking a little.
Mr. Cockfield stood across the room, his midnight gaze pinned on her. Violet dropped her gaze to stare at her tea and blinked, not at all comfortable with the idea of being pitied.
Again.
* * *
“Where did he disappear from?” Posy asked.
“India. Just after the Maratha War.” He ought not to have gone missing. The skirmishes had come to an end. His unit, the entire army, had achieved a major victory.
“Details best left in the past, Posy. I believe we’ve made your aunt uncomfortable. My apologies, Violet.” Greystone frowned across the table at no one in particular. But he was right, and Violet sent him a grateful glance.
The room fell into an awkward silence until Greys spoke up again.
“What adventures do you ladies have planned for today? Anything exciting?”
“I do.” Posy sat up tall. “Mr. Cockfield has promised to escort me to Bond Street. There is a particular bookstore he’s told me about that I’ve been wanting to visit.” Her niece then caught, and held, Mr. Cockfield’s gaze as though they shared a secret.
“Absolutely not.” Violet could only handle so much. “Madam Chantal requires you for another fitting. She’s expecting us today.” She forced a brightness into her tone, hating that she always came across as the spoilsport. “Greystone may accompany us if he is free.”
“Eh, I’m happy to leave that privilege to Cockfield. Have you purchased anything for yourself, Violet, since you’ve been in London?” Was her cousin so oblivious?
“But that is not at all proper.” Violet glanced around the room at three curious pairs of eyes. Oddly enough, Mr. Cockfield’s gaze wasn’t as smug as usual. In fact, if she didn’t know better, she’d think he appeared almost sympathetic.
