The night went splendidly well, surpassing her friends’ expectations. Three quite legitimate, if impulsive, proposals of marriage, eight proposals of a less savory sort, one young man making a complete fool of himself by getting down on his knees in the middle of the dancers to propose to her at the top of his lungs, two other gentlemen coming to blows while vying for her attention.

Christopher didn’t show up. Though it had been confirmed that he was in London, they couldn’t be sure whether he had heard about her yet. But new gossip would be making the rounds tomorrow. He would hear about her eventually. It was only a matter of time . . .

Chapter 22

Chapter 22

CHRISTOPHER COULDN’T MANAGE TO GET BACK INTO the swing of things, now that he had returned to London. He had finished his business at Haverston in haste, then shocked his factor by firing him. Yet he made no effort to find a new factor. He made no effort to do much of anything other than staring into a lot of fires while analyzing the things he should or shouldn’t have done concerning Anastasia Stephanoff.

He could not get her out of his mind. It had been nearly two weeks since he’d last seen her, yet he could still picture her as if she stood before him. Naked, enraged, under him in bed, the images haunted him like vengeful ghosts that wouldn’t go away.

He had gone back to her camp. He had sworn that he wouldn’t, knew that seeing her again would serve no purpose under the circumstances, yet two days after their final parting, he had ridden there again. He wasn’t at all sure what he would have said to her at that point, yet he didn’t get the chance to find out.

He was incredulous to find the Gypsies gone. He hadn’t expected that. Rage quickly followed his amazement, enough that he’d had every intention of sending the law after them. They had claimed his property would be left as they’d found it, after all, yet they had left a grave behind, as well as a large pile of charred wood and metal that indicated one of their wagons had been burned.

Yet he’d no sooner ridden into Havers Town to find the sheriff than his rage was gone. Realizing who that grave might have belonged to was responsible for that. Anastasia’s grandmother. And if that was true, then she must be grieving. Oddly, he wanted only to comfort her now. He had to find her first, though.

This he tried to do, sending runners to the closest towns. It was hard to believe they could find no trace whatsoever of the Gypsies. Vanished. Completely. And that was when he began to suspect that he might never see her again.