“It’s because she’s unreachable,” he muttered to himself.
She was emotionally unreachable, unavailable. It was what had made her perfect for their arrangement, but now he wished that he could break through her shell.
I want to know her. And I hate that I want to know her.
He reached for the bottle again and poured himself another glass. Then another…
Violet’s face turned into his mother’s, weeping at his bedside. Then he transformed from a nine-year-old child to his father, sick on his deathbed, and somehow he was in his father’s body and at the same time looking down at his father, who was staring up at him with hate-filled eyes, opening his mouth and saying the words that had led him to this moment.“You must marry. I will not let you win.”
A shriek jolted James awake, and he sat bolt upright. The whiskey bottle, now half empty, was sitting in front of him next to an empty glass.
I must have fallen asleep.
Everything was jumbled up and muddled. Had someone actually screamed, or had that been part of his dream as well?
Then he heard a crash above him, followed by footsteps, and then frantic knocking.
“Violet!?” he heard Lady Carfield yell. “Are you all right? Open the door!”
“Mama, what’s going on?” Rosalie’s voice joined the fray.
“I can’t open the door! Violet! Your Grace! Are you in there?”
James was on his feet in a heartbeat. Sprinting to the door, he wrenched it open, then he took the stairs two at a time, hurtling past several of the servants, who had been awoken by the noise and were on their way upstairs.
He reached the landing and sprinted in the direction of the bedroom he and Violet had shared. It was pitch dark, but even in the dimness, he could make out Lady Carfield and Rosalie standing outside the door, banging on it.
“What’s happening?” he demanded at once.
“Oh!” Lady Carfield’s eyes went wide. “I thought you were inside!”
“No, I was—I was downstairs.” His stomach sank to his feet.
Why didn’t I go up with her to our bedchamber?
“I heard a scream and then a crash from inside,” Lady Carfield said in a rush, twisting the door handle to no avail. “But the door won’t budge, and Violet isn’t answering.”
“Violet! Are you in there?” He banged hard on the door, the sound reverberating through the corridor. “Open up!”
But there was no response, and when he pressed his ear to the door, there was no sound, not even the slow breathing of someone asleep.
James’s blood ran cold. Looking up, he saw the inn’s staff gathered at the end of the corridor, staring at them with wide eyes. One of the guards, Lochs, was also there.
“Where’s Grimsby?” James shouted.
“Stationed outside, Your Grace,” Lochs said.
“Find him at once!” James barked. “And discover what has happened—if someone has broken in through the window of Her Grace’s chamber.”
At that moment, the sound of hoofbeats filled the air, and James froze. The hooves were getting further away, and when he met Lady Carfield’s eyes, it was as if they both knew exactly what it meant.
He didn’t waste any more time. James hurled himself at the door with every ounce of strength he had. It worked. The door flew off its hinges and fell to the floor with a resounding crash. James hurled himself inside and, through the dust and debris, looked around.
It was empty. Violet was gone. The bedclothes were rumpled as if someone had been thrashing in them, and the window…
James’s heart sank. The window was open.
He dashed over to it and peered down into the darkness. Down below, just visible in the dimness, was a ladder lying on its side.
