Ottilie shook her head in protest. “He wasn’t like that at all. He shared things with me about his past—deeply personal things. He is sensitive and caring.” She chewed her bottom lip. “Admittedly, there is something very dark about him too.”
“Are you sure nothing happened that can explain why he shunned you? Could it have been because of some misunderstanding?”
Ottilie frowned as she thought about her last encounter with Mr. Bastin. She gasped. “Yes! With everything that happened, I neglected to tell you. The last day I saw him, he informed me that he’d purchased your aunt’s house on Upper Brook Street.”
Violet’s forehead creased. “How strange. But I suppose it’s about time Sir Richard sold the house. If he intends to spend the rest of his days in India, he hardly needs to maintain a mansion in Mayfair.”
“Oh, but he’s no longer in India. He has remarried and purchased a new home in Belgrave Square. The strange thing is that Mr. Bastin told me he intended to tear the house down and rebuild. I begged him not to, and when he discovered that I was well-acquainted with the first Lady Astyr and that she was a patron of the college, he grew furious and accused me of colluding with Sir Richard.”
“It sounds like Sir Richard behaved unfairly in his dealings with Mr. Bastin and made an enemy of him. If it were anyone else, I’d think your story rather strange, but not Sir Richard. It’s not unusual for Sir Richard to enrage people with his offensive behavior.”
“Yes, but to take it out on me in the manner he did makes no sense whatsoever. It has led me to believe that my aunt was right. Heismad.”
“I imagine he’s probably embarrassed by his outburst, and if he’s a worthy gentleman, then he will send you a letter apologizing. I dare say there is an envelope with your name on it at the college now.”
Ottilie forced a smile.
“Oh look,” Violet said, pointing to a group on the beach. “I think I see the children with Mrs. Cole.” She snapped open her reticule and extracted a small pair of brass binoculars. She held the glasses to her eyes and waved excitedly as if the children could see her. “It is them. Here, take a look,” Violet handed the binoculars to Ottilie.
Ottilie peered through the magnified lenses and searched for the children. “I don’t see them,” she said.
“They’re to the left by the water.”
“Ottilie looked to her left and scanned the beach.
“Shall we go down and surprise them?” Violet asked.
“Only if you allow their auntie to buy them an ice cream.” Ottilie continued to scan the shoreline and then she saw something that made her body turn cold. Two gentlemen stood side by side facing the ocean. Both wore cowboy hats seated low on their foreheads.
*
Parasols dotted theshoreline. Jack eyed the women who sheltered beneath them surreptitiously in the hope of spotting Violet amongst them.
“Someone’s gonna challenge you to another gunfight if you keep eyeballing every lady like that,” Brandt warned.
Jack sighed irritably and folded his arms. “I can’t help feeling like this is all some cruel trick masterminded by Jebkin.”
His quest to find his sister had turned into an odyssey, souring Jack’s initial excitement and turning it to doubt. He’d departed London for Canterbury the day he’d learned Violet was alive, traveling by steam train from Victoria Station to Canterbury West and then by carriage a mile north of Westgate to the Ladies’ College, only to find the expansive college grounds empty and the three-winged stone building locked.
“There must be a groundskeeper or caretaker here,” Jack had rapped on the door of the main building multiple times.
“Hold your horses! You ain’t given it enough time. It’s a big place, an’ they most likely ain’t expectin’ visitors this time of year.”
Brandt had been right. Minutes later, an elderly housekeeper had answered Jack’s knock, and she’d confirmed that the school was closed for the summer, saying that Mr. and Mrs. Thomas were on holiday in Margate. He’d explained that finding Mrs. Thomas was a matter of great urgency, but the woman had hesitated when he’d asked for their address in Margate.
“I am a friend of Miss Hamilton,” Jack had added in desperation.
The housekeeper’s face had brightened at first, and then her brows had creased in apparent concern. “Has something happened to our Miss Hamilton?”
“Miss Hamilton is quite well,” Jack had assured the woman. “She sent me to speak with Mrs. Thomas about giving a lecture on my new book. Forgive me for not introducing myself,” he’d said. “I am Mr. Jack Bastin.”
The housekeeper had tilted her head and frowned as if inspecting his features. “You’re the one the newspapers are always writing about, aren’t you?”
“That’s correct, but nothing they say is true.” He’d flashed her a winning smile, and she’d chuckled.
“Mr. Thomas has a copy of your book on his shelf, and I heard Mrs. Thomas call it a masterpiece.” Her cheeks had flushed pink, and she’d given Jack the address without further hesitation.
An hour later, he’d boarded a train from Canterbury West to Margate Station, where an open carriage had dropped him off in front of his sister’s holiday residence in Fort Crescent. Once again, he’d faced disappointment when his knock went unanswered.
