The Convenient Felstone Marriage (Whitby Weddings 1)

‘It comes out on Burgate, close to her house. I thought you might want to avoid the busier thoroughfares.’

‘Why?’

Why? He looked at her incredulously. Wasn’t it obvious? ‘We can take a different route if you wish.’

‘No.’ She hesitated briefly before shaking her head. ‘I just didn’t recognise it, that’s all.’

He led them on cautiously, curiosity burrowing a hole in his gut. She was acting as if she were frightened of being alone with him, yet she was the one who’d come to the station, who’d interrupted his meeting, who’d just agreed to spend the rest of her life with him, for pity’s sake! It didn’t make any sense, unless—he glanced down at her face, searching for clues—unless it wasn’t him she was afraid of... Unless it was something else, something that had actually frightened her into agreeing to marry him?

He frowned suspiciously. Had something happened to her since the ball then, something that made her feel unsafe? She certainly looked nervous enough. Her cheeks had regained some of their colour, but her expression was still ill at ease, her eyes still glancing around restlessly as if they were searching for something.

Or someone.

His brows snapped together at once. There was only one person he could think of who frightened her, but what could Sir Charles have to do with her behaviour today? He couldn’t have followed her home from the ball. He had been in the card room all evening...had still been there when he’d left to escort Percy back to the Swan. He wasn’t known for having ear

ly habits either. It seemed highly unlikely that Ianthe could have seen him that morning. In which case...unlikely and unfortunate as it seemed, her jittery behaviour must have more to do with wedding nerves.

His eyes fell on a jeweller’s shop down a street to their right and he found himself directing their steps towards it, struck by a sudden idea. If the idea of marriage really alarmed her so much, perhaps the best way to calm her nerves was to face it head-on.

‘Do you know how Pickering got its name?’ He asked the question casually, feeling her tense the moment he changed direction.

‘No.’ She sounded panicked again. ‘Where are we going?’

He gestured towards the jewellers. ‘I’d like to buy you an engagement ring.’

‘A ring?’ She sounded shocked. ‘There’s no need. This is a business arrangement.’

‘None the less, I’d like to buy you one. To seal the bargain, if you like.’

‘Why? We’ve already agreed on the terms. I’ve no intention of reneging.’

‘Ianthe.’ He stopped outside the window, turning slowly to face her. ‘My mother never had a ring. I’d like my wife to have one.’

‘Oh.’ She bit her lip with a look of consternation. ‘So it matters to you?’

‘I’d consider it a personal favour. Besides, as I was saying, Pickering is the town to buy one. According to local legend, an old king called Peredurus once lost his ring here and accused a local maiden of stealing it. Later on, some fishermen caught a pike in the river and found the ring in its stomach. Hence the town’s name. Pike ring, Pickering.’

‘So the King falsely accused the maiden?’

She gave him a pointed look and his lips quirked upwards. ‘Perhaps he simply misjudged her.’

‘Then what happened?’

‘He married her.’

‘Because he felt that he had to?’

‘I don’t know about that. Perhaps he was trying to make amends. Perhaps he liked her. Or perhaps he just thought she was interesting.’

‘Or respectable?’

‘Maybe both.’

A shadow drifted across her face suddenly. ‘What if she turned out to be neither? At least not in the way that he’d thought?’

Robert arched an eyebrow. There it was again, the feeling that she was trying to warn him about something—something she couldn’t actually bring herself to say.

‘Perhaps he thought he was a good judge of character. In any case, I don’t think he was the kind of king who went back on his word.’