An Heiress for All Seasons by Sophie Jordan Page A

truly fond of you—”
    “No,” she said again, staring straight ahead into nothing, not even looking at her mother. “He’s not fond of me.” Not enough. She was the one who had gone and lost her heart. He hadn’t. She was the one whose heart was dying a slow death inside her right now. “He was only after the dowry. His family needs it. He can’t marry me now.” She wouldn’t demand it of him. No matter how utterly compromised she was, she wouldn’t force his hand. He needed an heiress, and she was no longer that.
    Mama nodded morosely, tears tracking swiftly down her cheeks. “I know. I know. ’Tis so hard to give up the dream, you know? And we have nothing now! Not a penny to our names. . . .”
    “We shall make do.” Violet patted her mother’s shoulders as she gave way to tears once again. They would make do. Nothing could feel worse than this. Than the thick, suffocating press of knowledge that she would never feel his arms around her again. She would live the rest of her life without him.
    “Who will have you now, Violet?” she wailed.
    “Shh,” she soothed. “All will be well.” Now wasn’t the time to tell her mother she would never marry. There would never be anyone for her. Not after Will. Instead, she said, “Come now. Papa can find employment . . . as can I.”
    Her mother dropped face-down on the bed then, her sniffles increasing to full-blown sobs. Violet patted her back.
    “What shall we do?” Mama’s muffled wail floated up from the counterpane,
    “I’ll send Josie to tell our driver to ready our carriage while we pack. Half the household is still abed. We’ll slip away and be hours from here before anyone even notices.”
    Mama lifted a tear-stained face. “Without a farewell?”
    “It’s the easiest . . . kindest thing to do.” She could well imagine the platitudes, the apologies . . . Will trying to explain why he couldn’t go forward with their marriage. No, she would avoid that discomfort. Spare herself that. And him.
    I t was well past the midday meal before anyone realized the Howard females had vanished.
    His mother stormed into his office, interrupting him, Dec, and Max as they discussed potential investments other than the ones he had already made. He’d learned from his father’s mistakes. He would not rely solely on the land as his father and grandfather had done. The fortune he acquired from marrying Violet would be invested wisely. He would make certain their future was secured. He didn’t want their children faced with the burden of debt and uncertainty.
    Worry gleamed in his mother’s eyes as she stopped before him. “She’s gone!”
    “Who is gone?”
    “Miss Howard! Violet and her mother! They’ve left.”
    He rose slowly to his feet. “What do you mean? They’re not in the house? Have you searched—”
    “Oh, they are well and truly gone. They took their carriage and servants and left.”
    He strode past her, marching up the stairs and straight for Violet’s bedchamber as though he could find evidence to the contrary of his mother’s shocking words. He flung the door open to find the chamber empty, bed still unmade, doors to the armoire wide open, stripped bare inside.
    He paced the room, feeling like a caged animal. He stopped near the bed, dragging his hands through his hair and tugging hard. Where was she? Where had she gone? And why?
    His mind tracked over their last conversation, trying to recall if she had given any indication that she was going to run. There had been tension, but she had seemed committed to the idea of their marriage. He had not suspected she would resort to running away.
    Lowering his hands from his hair, he noticed a piece of parchment on the bed. He leaned down and plucked it from the rumpled covers, his eyes scanning the scrawl of handwriting, understanding at once why she left.
    With a curse, he wadded the missive in his fist and flung it across the room.
    T hey drove through the day, stopping only to