He doubted he’d ever make such a sweeping transformation. But he was willing to try to be a part of Victoria’s world, if that would make her happy.
A movement by the house caught his attention. Arch, who’d been waiting by the door, was finally opening it. Tom held his breath. He needed more than the brief glimpse he’d gotten when he’d caught Victoria looking out the bedroom window. He needed to see her walking toward him on her father’s arm. He needed to see her smile to know she was okay. He needed to put the ring back on her finger and make her his for good.
As the door widened, Henry stepped out. Tom waited for Victoria to make her appearance. But the door closed behind Henry without Victoria anywhere in sight. The muscles in Tom’s chest constricted. He willed Arch to open the door again and for Victoria to float out in her wedding gown. But the slight stoop of Henry’s shoulders was all the evidence Tom needed to piece together what had happened.
Victoria was gone. She’d run.
Even though panic slammed him with the force of regular nor-easter, he forced his face to remain expressionless. “I’ll be right back,” he said to the rector, praying it was true. Then, as calmly as he could so that he wouldn’t worry either his parents or Victoria’s mother, he whispered, “Give me a minute.”
At his words, Mrs. Cole’s sightless eyes found him. The elegant lines in her face drooped with dismay. And Tom had the feeling she’d guessed what had happened too.
He tried to keep his stride smooth and unhurried as he crossed to Henry. But a fist was closing about his throat, choking off his air. The escalating panic made him want to tear off his bow tie and suit coat and sprint as fast as he could.
Henry shook his head gravely, answering Tom’s worst fears. She was gone.
“I’m sorry, Tom,” Henry said in a low voice, as they met halfway between the house and beach. “I really thought things would be different this time, that she’d finally make it down the aisle. I thought you were the right man. And I thought she loved you enough to make herself do it.” His eyes held genuine remorse.
“She does love me.” Tom hadn’t imagined it. Had he? At times he’d feared her powers over him were turning him into a lovesick sap, that he wasn’t thinking clearly anymore, that he was losing his edge. But even if he was growing a little soft, he couldn’t have misread all of the clues.
Something else was holding her back.
Fear. He’d seen it in her eyes before. Especially the day she’d almost married Nathaniel.
She was afraid. He still didn’t know of what. But he planned to find out.
“Do you know where she went?” he asked.
Henry shrugged. The motion was filled with resignation and defeat. Maybe a father could make excuses for his daughter running from a couple of weddings. But now? There were no excuses left. Clearly Victoria had problems that even true love couldn’t conquer.
Tom narrowed his eyes on the house, on the window, and then returned to the door. “I’ll find Victoria.”
“But even if you find her—”
“When I find her.”
“When you find her, she still won’t go through with the wedding.” Henry obviously spoke from experience, had likely tried to convince Victoria in the past, to no avail.
Tom moved away from Henry. “Tell everyone the wedding will start soon.”
Henry shook his head. “Most of them will guess what’s happened.”
“We’re getting married,” Tom insisted. “Just tell them to wait.” He didn’t stand around to listen to any more of Henry’s protests or nay-saying. Instead, he finished walking calmly to the house. He turned down Arch’s offer to help look for Victoria. This was something he had to do for himself. He had to be the one to find her and talk with her.
Once he entered the house and the door closed behind him blocking him from the sight of curious guests, he jolted into high speed. He raced up the stairs, taking them two and three at a time. When he reached the bedroom, a rapid sweep of the room left him no clues.
He bolted back down the stairs and scanned the rest of the rooms before barging out the back door. One glance was all it took to see her footsteps in the sand, leading away from the house.
She had at the most a five-minute lead. From the deep indentations and wide