“Ah, that must be the woman Miss Creighton said she was going to write. She said she knew a lady in London who could verify that Miss Shroud wasn’t Scottish.” Mr. Victor furrowed his brow. “But I hadn’t thought she’d meant an actual lady. Why would a baroness come here? At the whim of Miss Creighton? It makes no sense.”
Pieces were starting to fall into place, but how they were landing had Matthew’s stomach turning. “Miss Creighton said Miss Shroud knows Lady Bridgewater?”
“Yes.”
“How does she know that?”
Mr. Victor shrugged. “I believe she said they came into the milliner’s shop together about a month ago.”
He should have known. He should have known when Miss Shroud came to Fenswallow so soon after Mother’s visit that she must have known her. But if Miss Shroud knew who he was all along, why on earth would she make up this whole charade? Why not simply tell his mother he was here?
There was only one reason that made any sense, and it wasn’t a good one. Miss Shroud must have been on the hunt for a titled gentleman. Had she come here to seduce him into marrying her? Even when sheknewhe was engaged to someone else?
Was Miss Shroud even her name? He stiffened and cursed himself for being a fool. Of course it wasn’t. She’d chosen a faux name as obvious as his. He turned to Mr. Victor. “Will you do me a favor and send my love to Mr. and Mrs. Garvis? I’m going to be leaving town. You can tell them that I will try to visit again, but under no circumstances should you tell Miss Shroud I will be returning.”
“You’re leaving?”
Matthew nodded. “I have to.”
“What of the deliveries?”
Blast. He had a whole cart full of deliveries that needed to be made. “Someone else will have to do it. Please give my apologies to Mr. Bennion as well. And make certain Marge is fed and well cared for until Mr. Bennion returns. Mr. Garvis would be happy to do it.”
His head was as clouded as the gray sky above them, but one thought drove him to move. He needed to get out of town before his mother saw him. He nodded a farewell to Mr. Victor and dashed off toward his room before he could ask him any more questions. Everyone in town knew where he lived. It would only be a matter of time before Miss Creighton told Mother and MissBateman. Once inside, he threw all his money and a few items of clothing in a bag. Then he stopped in his frantic packing and stared at his books. Most sat on the shelves, some stacked neatly while others he’d left haphazardly on their sides or in stacks on the floor. He’d saved for years so that when he found a place where he was safe to settle down, he could buy those books. He’d spent months ordering just the right ones from Mr. Garvis, and now he was going to have to leave them all behind.
All because of Miss Shroud, or whatever her name actually was. Why couldn’t she have simply ignored the fact that she’d seen him?
He wouldn’t leave them all. He couldn’t. He grabbedMartin Chuzzlewitand placed it at the top of his bag. He had room for a few more. His eyes caught the book sitting on the ground next to his chair and froze.
The Illustrated Arctic News…
Memories of his time with Miss Shroud flooded him, and he had to sit on the edge of his bed. Their ill-advised plans to go to the Arctic; her standing, shivering in the rain; her face when he spun her around while dancing the polka just last night. If she’d come here to seduce him in the hopes that he would marry her, she’d done an excellent job. She was a master. Women all over the world should come to her and watch her work for three weeks so they could return home with the knowledge of exactly how to ensnare a man.
“She’s a fraud,” he mumbled to himself. “None of our interactions were real.”
But they had felt real. He shook his head. If he wanted to get out of Fenswallow without being forced to the altar by his mother, he needed to walk out that door. Not sit on his bed thinking about Miss Shroud. He’d done too much of that over the past weeks as it was.
What other choice did he have but to run again? A malicious part of him wanted to walk down the street and tell Mother he was ready to wed whenever she wanted. Miss Shroud’s plans would be completely foiled, and he was duty bound to do just that. But he wouldn’t marry Miss Bateman out of spite. Neither of them deserved that.
No, he would simply disappear again. He’d find another quiet town, make a new name for himself, and start collecting books again. When he was certain Miss Shroud had stopped waiting for him to return, he could even come back and get these books. His life would return to what it had been before Miss Shroud had come to town, throwing his carefully crafted world out the window.
He punched his mattress once, then stood. He’d promised her she would leave him before he left her, but he was going to have to break that promise. A minor detail. He’d broken worse promises. He’d promised Lucy Bateman he’d marry her, and he hadn’t fulfilled that one either.
Apparently this was just the type of person he was. Matthew Harrison: terrible son, inadequate courier, and breaker of promises.
Matthew had never been good for anything or anyone. How had he ever bought the story that she was there to investigate his superior delivery methods? That should have been his first clue that she was lying. His blasted pride had gotten in the way. He’d wanted so badly to be good atsomething.
He scrubbed his face with his hand, adjusting to the realization that he was still the same person he’d been three years ago.
Matthew closed his bag and stepped toward the door. He cracked it open and looked both ways down the street. It was clear.
I hope so.
Miss Shroud’s words spoken almost every evening suddenly filled the air. His hands went to his ears. He didn’t want to hear them. Her fear at being left behind had seemed so real, so vulnerable. But it couldn’t have been, and he wouldn’t feel terrible about it. She was the despicable one, not him.
Cursing himself for being a fool, he hefted his bag over his shoulder and strode away from the room that had been home to him for six months.
CHAPTER 21
