Greystone crossed the room and kissed her cheek. “I’ll be in the foyer if you need me,” he said and then exited, leaving the door slightly ajar behind him.
“Please sit.” Violet gestured toward a settee near the hearth and then lowered herself into one of the high-backed chairs. She’d experienced her hysterics over him the night before, but this time she was prepared. She was a lady, after all. “It was you, then, in the garden last night.”
“Oh, my dear.” He leaned forward, resting his arms on his thighs. “I couldn’t bring myself to stay. Seeing you… I feared I would sacrifice what little dignity I have remaining. Memories of our time together overwhelmed me.”
“I was lucky to have Miss Jones, then.” Violet had once loved this man.
He looked sturdier now—more manly. Creases etched around his eyes, and his hair was much longer, which suited him. Rather than appearing ravaged by his hardship, he was more handsome than before.
This was the man who had pledged to marry her. She’d imagined spending her life with him. She’d lain with him.
And yet, sitting here, she felt oddly disconnected. As though all of that had happened to another person.
After leaving England, he’d not written her once. And then he’d never returned.
The night before, she hadn’t had a chance to feel much of anything. She’d already been reeling over the revelation about Posy, and then there had been that fainting business, but…
But without those distractions, she’d thought she would feel something at the sight of him. Something other than disappointment, melancholy, and…
Regret.
Not regret for giving herself to him—she’d done that in good faith. But regret that he’d never been the person she’d wanted him to be, and also that she’d wasted so much time dreading this moment.
But she’d met Simon. The past was over and done. She was going to make the most of every day because she had no idea what the future might hold.
“I’ve missed you.” Christopher filled the silence. When she didn’t answer, he added, “Did you miss me, Violet?”
“Of course.” She sat staring at him. He really was a very handsome man—no wonder she’d fallen in love with him.
His satisfied grin brought with it a rush of memories, but that… was all.
“Your uncle must be pleased that you have been found.” The entire business indeed was tricky. His return ought to have been cause for celebration and yet… “I am sorry for the loss of your father. I spoke with your mother a few times after we received the news that you were missing. I know you didn’t get on all that well with them, but one can never truly be prepared for the loss of their parents.”
She certainly hadn’t been prepared to lose hers.
“I won’t pretend to mourn my father, but my mother loved me more than anyone, and I will miss her dearly.”
And yet, he’d abandoned her as well.
Christopher seemed lost in thought for a moment and then shrugged. “I was equally shocked to have learned that my cousins had passed,” he said, speaking of the two other men who’d stood between him and the Duke of Coventry’s title.
“Indeed, your uncle has suffered many losses over the past decade.” But she’d had enough. “Tell me what happened, Christopher. Were they cruel to you? Was it horrible?”
“They…?” He seemed confused for a moment. “Ah, my captors. To be frank, Violet, it’s hard to say.” He touched his head. “Since I lost my memory for a while. Amnesia. It was lucky I saw the advertisement in the paper. Brought it all back to me.”
Violet wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt. It was how she had always been with him. Because she’d loved him. At the time, she’d stood to lose too much otherwise.
But she was older now, wiser. Wasn’t she? Or had she simply fallen into old habits?
No. It was different with Simon.
And yet, a cold chill swept through her.
“You don’t know what happened, then? Nothing?” she asked.
“Ambushed, ruffians of some sort. When I came to, I was a stranger to myself in a strange land. I could never have stayed away if I’d remembered you.”
“When was that?” Because he’d gone on to make a life for himself there.
