Captain Amberton's Inherited Bride (Whitby Weddings 2)

‘One day?’ He prompted her as her voice trailed away.

‘I don’t know.’ She shook her head. ‘Maybe I hoped that he’d tell me he loved me and let me go, but he never did. He spent his life warning me about fortune hunters and men who might pretend to care for me, but he never cared either. It was as though he refused to care for anyone ever again after my mother died.’

Lance felt a dull ache in his chest. Hadn’t he experienced something similar after his own mother’s funeral, when he’d told himself that he never wanted to feel hurt or pain like that again? Like her father, he’d closed his heart a long time ago, too—or thought that he had. Was that why he’d been so self-centred and reckless with everyone else’s feelings, because he’d thought himself immune to caring for anyone else deeply?

The past seven months had given the lie to that. Here he was, right back to where he’d started, grieving a brother and father he hadn’t realised he loved so much until it was too late. Maybe he’d been just as much a monster in his own way as her father had, taking his grief out on everyone around him. The thought made him distinctly uncomfortable. If that were the case, then he truly was the last man on earth she ought to marry.

‘I never really admitted to myself how angry I was with him until today.’ Her face wore a guilty expression. ‘I know it sounds wicked, but after the funeral, a part of me was relieved.’

‘That doesn’t sound wicked. It sounds perfectly natural.’

‘I thought that maybe I could finally make some choices of my own, but then Mr Rowlinson told me about the will.’

‘And you discovered that your father had shackled you into marriage instead?’

‘Yes, but then I thought that it might be a good form of revenge, marrying you. He would have hated the idea.’

‘There you go, then.’

She gave him a remonstrative look. ‘I don’t want to marry you for revenge.’

‘So call it rebellion.’

‘I was never very good at that. I did almost everything I was told.’

‘You’re doing it pretty well tonight.’ He smiled approvingly. ‘I must be a worse influence than I thought. Besides, you just said almost everything. What didn’t you do?’

She twisted her hands in her lap as if she felt genuinely guilty. ‘He told me to stop seeing Ianthe. He didn’t approve of her.’

‘Really? Then I definitely want to meet her.’

‘She’s the only real friend I ever had.’

‘One real friend is better than a lot of false ones. A man can have lots of friends, but there’s usually only one who’ll help you bury the body, so to speak.’

‘Is Martin yours?’

‘Martin? No, he just won’t leave me no matter how many times I tell him to.’ He laughed and then sobered again almost instantly. ‘I suppose Arthur was always my best friend.’

‘I’m sorry.’

He caught his breath, fighting back a sudden fierce onslaught of emotion. Arthur had been his best friend. Why hadn’t he known that until now?

‘Speaking of Martin—’ he forced himself to keep speaking normally ‘—he thinks he might be able to make it to Whitby tomorrow.’

‘Are the roads clear?’

‘No, but it hasn’t snowed any more and the man likes a challenge. So you can write to your friend Ianthe and tell her you’ve been imprisoned by a madman.’

‘I never said you were mad.’

‘You might as well make it exciting.’

‘Then I will.’ She gave what looked like a genuine smile. ‘Thank you.’

‘Thank Martin.’ He leaned back in his chair. ‘Now tell me how else you defied your father. I like this rebellious s

ide of you.’