What the devil was wrong with him? What on God’s earth was this tightness in his chest?
The door of the tavern slammed open and Knight stepped into the room. “We have a name for the man after you.”
Drake straightened and turned to his brother. “Who?”
“Reginald Thickett Graves, the Earl of Barrowmere.”
Chapter Nineteen
Breathe it. Claimit.Violet inhaled deeply.You are in charge of your life, Vi.How long ago had she claimed it was time for her to face her new life by herself? She swept a gaze over her shop, heart clenching tightly. She’d fallen madly in love with this place. But how long could this be hers?
However long she wished, she supposed. She might simply not be here along with it.
I can do this. I can do this. Again.
Her gaze flicked down to the letter she’d penned and sealed with a stamp of wax. How ignorant to have believed fate would be kinder this time around. The circumstance might not be the very same, but the outcome still landed a blow.
You said this was your world now, Violet.
A new name.
A new life.
Freedom.
Yes, but only for as long as she could hold onto said name, said life, said freedom. She could start anew at any time. And if her brother truly did know about her whereabouts, Percival might, too. Or would soon enough. She refused to return to her former life. She’d grown quite fond of living as a commoner.
Besides, was it not only a matter of time before her brother’s cutthroat spilled her secrets?
Violet sighed.
“That’s the fortieth time I’ve heard you sigh this hour.”
Violet glanced at Angelica. “Surely not the fortieth.”
Angelica arched her brow. “Thirty-ninth, then. I began counting after the third dramatic sigh.”
“I wasthinking,” Violet said primly. “It is what intelligent women do.” Even though she felt anything but intelligent. Why else had she burst into the shop, declaring, quite theatrically, “We are doomed, Angelica.” She hadn’t explained herself after that. Quite naturally, her shop assistant thought her mad.
“Is this about our doom?” the girl asked, leaning against the counter.
“Mine, not yours.”
“What could you have possibly done to incite doom? Brighton is rather uneventful for the most part. I live for the gossip of London.”
Should she tell Angelica? She might offer some helpful insight. Violet studied her open, unguarded gaze and decided against it. Rather not. If Brighton still seemed uneventful to her, Violet would not be the one to ruin the illusion.
“Never mind the doom,” Violet said. She pushed the letter to Angelica. “Send that to the Marchioness of Warton. I might have to leave for a while. When I do, you shall be in charge of this shop.”
Angelica’s eyes flew wide. “Me? In charge of your shop?”
Violet nodded. Even if she was forced to leave, she wanted the shop to continue on in her absence. She could send instructions from afar. “I trust you. You’ve watched me put together arrangements for a while. You have Pip and Terry at your aid. You shall be fine.”
“Where will you go, then?”
“I’m not sure yet, but I have some business to see to.” Run from her brother. Flee from Drake. Her life appeared to bea song of flight. Should she open a bird shop next? Perhaps Scotland? Her funds were plentiful enough. “I’m not sure when, but most likely soon.”
“Must you go?”
