The Convenient Felstone Marriage (Whitby Weddings 1)

‘Since we’re married... Unless you’d prefer that I leave you alone?’

‘No!’ She shook her head quickly. ‘That sounds...good.’

‘Good.’ His lips twitched slightly as he echoed the word. ‘Then I’ll meet you in the hall in five minutes.’

Ianthe nodded mutely, waiting until he’d gone before putting her hands over her face with mortification. What was the matter with her? Good? As if she couldn’t think of anything more intelligent to say! The shock of seeing him again seemed to have scattered her wits along with her senses.

Not that she had much time to recover. Now that she’d tacitly agreed to go down to the pier, she had to hurry and get ready. On top of everything else, she didn’t want to be late, too!

Quickly, she ran along to her room, donning her most respectable-looking woollen cloak and a plain poke bonnet, regarding herself in the mirror with satisfaction. Surely it would be impossible to look any more respectable. Percy would be horrified.

‘It’s not cold.’ Matthew gave her an inquisitorial look as she descended the stairs. ‘You’ll be too hot in that.’

‘Matthew,’ Robert admonished the boy with a stern look, coming to meet her as she reached the last step. ‘Though he might be right. It’s quite warm today.’

He himself was dressed lightly, she noticed, having discarded his formal waistcoat and cravat in favour of a simple white shirt and black jacket. If he was right about the temperature, then it would make sense for her to go and change, too, but she was reluctant to put aside her respectable attire so soon. A three-quarter-length cloak was what a respectable woman would wear.

‘I’m not used to a sea climate.’ She smiled indifferently, wrapping the cloak tightly around her shoulders. ‘There might be a breeze.’

‘There’s no wind.’

‘Matthew!’

‘But there isn’t!’ the boy protested. ‘And it’s a long way down to the harbour. You’ll need sensible boots.’

‘For pity’s sake, boy...’

‘I always wear sensible boots.’ She laughed as Robert ground his teeth in frustration. ‘It was one of the first things your guardian noticed about me, wasn’t it, Robert?’

‘One of them.’ He gave a bemused smile, gesturing towards the front door. ‘Shall we?’

She took a few steps forward, hoping that her movements didn’t look as unsteady as they felt, pausing on the threshold with a feeling of trepidation. The wide expanse of the crescent seemed to make the outside world look even more intimidating. The last thing she wanted to do was go out there, but if she turned back now, she didn’t know when she’d have the nerve to try again. She had to go through with it, had to conquer the fear for her own sake. Besides, what would Robert think if she ran away again? She could feel his eyes watching her, probably wondering why she was hesitating.

She took a deep breath and stepped outside, keeping her head down and her gaze fixed on the ground as they followed the curve of the pavement, before crossing the road that led to the promenade.

‘Matthew’s right about the distance.’ Robert’s tone was solicitous. ‘I can call for a carriage if you wish.’

‘There’s no need.’ She shook her head obstinately. ‘I’m perfectly capable of walking.’

‘As you wish.’

She glanced towards him, suddenly regretting her brusqueness. After all, he was only trying to help.

‘I’m looking forward to seeing the view,’ she offered.

‘You haven’t been out at all, then?’

He sounded surprised, and she could have bitten her own tongue out. ‘No. I thought I’d learn my way around the house first. Mrs Baxter had a lot to tell me.’

That was true, she told herself, if not entirely convincing. Mrs Baxter had been exhaustive in her description of how to manage the household. It had felt like two days at any rate.

‘Have you been into town?’

‘Not yet.’ She shrugged, trying to make it seem as if there were nothing odd about such reclusive behaviour. ‘I’m glad to be out now, though.’

He stopped all of a sudden and swept an arm out, gesturing over the edge of the cliff. ‘In that case, this is Whitby.’

Ianthe caught her breath, rendered momentarily speechless by the view of the immense harbour below. The shimmering water was dotted with at least fifty different ships—fishing boats, schooners, merchant vessels, barques, even a couple of naval frigates—while the harbour walls were a throng of activity, too, with fishermen, merchants and sailors intermingling with tourists promenading along the pier.