“I’m here to see Miss Violet Faraday.” The gentleman standing on the step straightened his shoulders as he stared up at Simon.
“Who may I say is calling?” Simon knew. Even if he hadn’t seen the renderings used for the ads, he vaguely remembered the man.
He would have known.
“Advise her that Lord Captain Thompson is here to see her.”
“Ah yes, Captain. Reports of your death have, indeed, been somewhat overstated.” But Simon didn’t step aside, nor did he invite the caller in.
“That’s Lord Captain, sir.”
So, this was the blighter who’d hurt Violet. This was the man who’d not only taken her innocence but shattered her confidence when he’d abandoned her—betraying his country as well.
There wasn’t anything extraordinary about him. Thompson’s blond hair was tied behind his head. He was of medium height, sturdy build, and had large, wide-set brown eyes. And for having been imprisoned and then alone in a foreign country, the gentleman looked surprisingly healthy and hale.
Simon was tempted to send him away, but that wasn’t his choice to make.
“Do you have an appointment?” he asked instead.
“No, but the lady will be more than happy to meet with me, if you’ll please tell her I am here.”
Would she be happy to meet with him?
“Follow me.” He gestured for Thompson to enter, and then led him into the front drawing room. Violet’s former fiancé stepped inside and then paused for a moment to take in the surroundings.
“Nothing ever changes in England. I can always count on that,” he said, looking more at ease now that he’d been allowed inside. “Same old furnishings. Same streets, same balls…”
Did he think Violet was the same as well?
Simon refrained from commenting.
“I imagine the future marchioness will make some changes, though. I understand she is not at all traditional.” Thompson had been lurking around the ball, so of course, he knew about Greystone’s engagement.
“Wait here. I’ll see if Miss Faraday is in.”
After closing the door behind him, Simon took the stairs two and three at a time. He didn’t turn in the direction of Violet’s chamber, however, but went in the opposite direction.
And, as luck would have it, found Greys exiting his chamber looking far too chipper, considering the copious amounts of champagne that had flowed the night before. The marquess halted with a start when he caught sight of Simon.
“Simpson tells me we have a visitor. Is it him?” Greys asked.
“If, by him, you mean Lord Captain Christopher Thompson, then yes. He’s asked to speak with Vi—Miss Faraday.” Simon frowned. He was none too enthusiastic about her former betrothed’s return. Not today—not before matters were resolved between the two of them.
“And after he’s gone, Greys, you and I need to talk,” Simon said. “About Vi—about your cousin.”
Greystone, who had been plucking at the lace at his wrist, glanced up with a cocked brow. “I thought the two of you were getting on better these past few weeks. Has Violet threatened that I would sack you again?”
“Not at all.” One of the maids rushed along the corridor. He’d have this conversation in private, with no distractions.
“I met him before he left. He hasn’t changed much.” Simon extracted some folded papers from inside his jacket and handed it over. “I received this report earlier this morning.”
True, Lord Captain Christopher Thompson was the Marquess of Coventry’s next in line, but he’d spent the past decade pursuing a dubious lifestyle, at best. And although his newfound fortune and title ensured most of the ton would turn a blind eye to questions surrounding his disappearance, as a suspected defector, he’d always have that black mark on his character.
Violet would see right through him. Of course, she would.
She’d told Simon she loved him.
“Violet was heartbroken when he went missing,” Greys said. “So much so that she determined never to marry. I wonder if he’s of a mind to take up with her again.”
