‘Well, then.’ He reached past her, helping her aunt down on to the platform first before offering a hand to her. ‘Shall we?’
Ianthe swallowed, trying to maintain some sense of composure. He didn’t look particularly pleased to see her—though given what she’d just said she could hardly blame him—his all-black outfit giving him the look of a man attending a funeral rather than his own wedding. Was he angry with her, then? He’d no right to be. She hadn’t said anything he wouldn’t agree with.
‘Is there a problem?’ His eyes narrowed slightly when she didn’t move.
‘Not at all. I’m perfectly happy to proceed.’ She gave him a meaningful look. ‘If you are.’
‘I am.’
‘Oh...’ His swift answer made her feel foolish even for asking. ‘Because I thought we should talk first. It’s been a while and—’
‘We’ll be late, Ianthe.’ He sounded impatient. ‘I prefer not to miss appointments. So if this is your way of telling me that you’ve changed your mind, I’d prefer it if you got straight to the point.’
‘It’s not!’ She bristled indignantly. ‘I just...’
‘Then we’re wasting time and my time is valuable. I have other things to do today besides this.’
This...? This...? She didn’t know whether to feel relieved or furious at his response. He was talking about this as if it were simply a minor event, an irksome interruption in his busy workload. Clearly she’d overestimated his motives for not visiting her. Here she’d driven herself half-crazy with worry and self-recrimination when all he’d been thinking about was business! He hadn’t been ignoring her because he’d changed his mind about marriage. He simply hadn’t thought about her—or their kiss—at all!
She wasn’t sure which was worse.
She pushed past him, ignoring his outstretched hand as she climbed out of the carriage. He responded by grasping her fingers instead, practically hauling her along the platform to where Aunt Sophoria was already waiting with Kitty and Giles.
She took a sharp intake of breath, almost running to keep up as a torrent of conflicting emotions raced through her body. On the one hand, she was still furious. On the other, it was impossible to ignore the heated, spine-tingling sensation that seemed to pass from his fingers into hers, making her stomach quiver with excitement. After three months, she’d hoped that the feeling, whatever it was, might have passed, but it was still there, as potent and unnerving as ever.
‘Ianthe!’ Kitty rushed forward to greet her, resplendent in a bright emerald-green gown that almost disguised a growing baby bump. ‘You look lovely.’
‘Thank you.’ She glanced down self-consciously. Her home-made efforts had seemed perfectly suitable that morning, though next to her smartly dressed fiancé they felt decidedly shabby.
‘We can talk about fashion later.’ Robert’s step didn’t falter. ‘I want to get this settled this morning.’
This! She threw Kitty an apologetic look as he swept her onwards, out of the station and into a waiting carriage, walking so fast that Aunt Sophoria finally had to beg him to slow down.
It wasn’t long before she realised why. Robert seemed to have organised everything to the exact minute, so that by the time she found herself on Giles’s arm, waiting for the ceremony to start, it was too late to turn back. There was no opportunity to speak in private, no chance hardly to catch her breath. The arrangement was sealed with a ruthless, businesslike efficiency.
* * *
The rest of the morning seemed to pass in a haze. They moved from the ceremony to a wedding luncheon at the Royal Hotel, not that she felt very hungry. More than anything, she realised with surprise, she wanted to sleep. Funny how she’d dreaded going to bed of late, afraid of the dreams that might wake her again, but now she felt as though she could sleep for a week, as if all the tension of the past few months had finally caught up with her. Thankfully, with Kitty and Aunt Sophoria present there was no shortage of conversation, though after a while she stopped listening, too tired to offer anything more than monosyllabic replies.
What was her husband’s excuse, then? she wondered. He was barely talking either, seeming to become sterner and more taciturn every time he glanced in her direction, which was often, though contrary to his earlier statement, he seemed in no rush to hasten the meal, ordering three courses as well as champagne.
As a result, it was the middle of the afternoon before all the toasts had been said and they were able to leave their guests at the station, sitting alone in their carriage in a silence that seemed to grow heavier and stonier with each passing moment. Ianthe found herself holding her breath, uncomfortably aware of her new husband’s proximity, beset by a combination of anxiety and unwanted excitement. Since saying ‘I do’ she doubted he’d spoken more than ten words to her directly. Was he displeased? Disappointed? Or was this just what he meant by a practical arrangement—one in which he could simply ignore her?
She opened her eyes as wide as she could, desperately trying to keep them open as a wave of exhaustion swept over her, though the effort seemed futile. Despite the cobblestone streets, the sway of the cab was actually lulling her to sleep. She could feel her head tipping to one side, searching for somewhere to rest...
* * *
‘We’re here.’
The soft tone of Robert’s voice, strikingly at odds with his earlier manner of speaking, drew her gently back to consciousness. With a wide yawn she opened her eyes, dismayed to find her face pressed up against a smooth, black jacket.
‘How long have I been asleep?’ She jolted upright at once.
‘Just a few minutes.’
‘Oh.’ She stifled another yawn. ‘Sorry.’
‘Still tired?’ He sounded vaguely concerned, but his eyes were full of shadows, their expression unreadable in the dark carriage.