Captain Amberton's Inherited Bride (Whitby Weddings 2)

That would definitely give the wrong impression.

‘I’m sure your mother’s family wanted you, Violet. They would have been mad not to. Do you know where they live?’

‘No.’

He drew his brows together thoughtfully. ‘Did your father have a study?’

‘Yes, but he always kept it locked. I think Mr Rowlinson has the key.’

‘Then it belongs to you now. We ought to take a look. There might be some clue as to where they live.’

‘No.’ She shook her head vehemently. ‘I know it sounds wicked, but I don’t want to go back there ever again.’

‘Then let me.’

She looked surprised. ‘You wouldn’t mind?’

‘Not at all, and if that doesn’t work then there are plenty of other ways we can find them.’

She pursed her lips together as if she were trying to control some emotion. ‘I’d like that.’

‘Good. Then I’ll look into it while you’re away.’

Impulsively, he reached out and brushed his knuckles across her cheek, surprised by a feeling of tenderness. Even now, she looked radiant, albeit swathed in enough material to make a pair of curtains. How was it possible for such a warm, vibrant woman to have emerged out of such a cold, lonely childhood? One in which she’d never been hugged, held or kissed...

His gaze dropped to her lips. No wonder she’d been so sensitive about the subject of suitors when they’d first met. She’d never been touched or caressed by any man. Even he hadn’t kissed her at their wedding, no more than a chaste peck anyway. Considering their agreement, it hadn’t seemed appropriate to do more at the time, but now he wished that he had. It seemed wrong now not to have kissed her, even if it was too late to do anything about it. If he tried to kiss her now, even chastely, then she might think he wanted more—which, given the strain in the lower part of his body, he did.

What the hell had he been thinking, suggesting seven years?

‘You ought to get some sleep.’ He dragged his hand away and rolled on to his other side, wishing he’d ordered a cold bath for the evening. ‘You have a big day ahead of you.’

‘Yes.’ He thought he heard a faint sigh before she spoke, her voice sounding oddly subdued. ‘Goodnight, Lance.’

Chapter Twelve

‘You’re early, Amberton.’

Lance twisted his head to find Robert Felstone standing on the railway platform beside him. He’d been staring at the track so fixedly, looking for any hint of steam in the distance, that he hadn’t seen him approach.

‘Yes, I must have got the wrong time.’

He frowned as he said it, wondering why he was bothering to lie. He knew exactly what time the train was due, having checked the schedule repeatedly over the past few days and at least five times that morning, but for some reason he didn’t want the other man to know that.

‘Ah.’ Robert gave a wry smile. ‘I’m early, too, as it happens, though you know there’s nothing wrong with being eager to see your wife, Amberton.’

‘I hardly know my wife.’ Lance had to consciously restrain himself from looking back down the track. ‘How could I miss her?’

He pulled at the rim of his top hat, asking the question as if it were simply rhetorical, though in truth he was somewhat curious to know the answer himself. The past three weeks had felt at least double that length.

‘I knew Ianthe for less than ten minutes before I asked her to marry me—’ Robert was still smiling ‘—though it took her another two days to say yes. Then I had to wait three months before seeing her again. They were the longest three months of my life.’

‘Lucky for me it’s only been three weeks, then.’

‘True, although I wouldn’t have agreed to any longer than a month. I really ought to be angry with you for sending my wife off on your honeymoon, but then they say absence makes the heart grow fonder.’

‘They do, but as I said, I must have got the time wrong.’ Lance cleared his throat awkwardly. ‘Any idea why they’re coming back a week early? Violet’s letter was somewhat vague.’

‘So was Ianthe’s, though I suppose we’ll find out soon enough. Do you care for some company while we wait?’