The Convenient Felstone Marriage (Whitby Weddings 1)

‘What a beautiful name.’ The woman’s voice was soft and breathless-sounding. ‘It’s from a poem by Shelley, isn’t it? Did your parents admire the Romantics?’

‘Why, yes.’ She smiled appreciatively. ‘Do you like poetry, too?’

‘I adore it.’ Violet threw a surreptitious glance over her shoulder. ‘Father says it’s all foolishness, but I just love the Romantics, especially Byron.’

‘Have you read Don Juan?’ Ianthe bit her tongue instantly. That was definitely the old her talking. A truly respectable woman wouldn’t talk about anything so frivolous as poetry, especially not Byron or Don Juan, and absolutely not with young, unmarried daughters. Fortunately Violet didn’t seem to find anything untoward about it.

‘I’m afraid not.’ Violet sighed wistfully. ‘Father likes to check everything I read and there are some subjects he doesn’t approve of. He only allowed Byron at first because he was a baron.’

‘Oh.’ Ianthe struggled to keep a straight face. ‘You know they call him the wicked lord.’

‘I know.’ Violet giggled. ‘Father was quite upset when he found out. But to have lived as much as Byron did, to have seen Italy and Greece...’ She sighed again. ‘How I’d love to visit them. But you’re from London, Mr Felstone tells us. I’d like to go there, too.’

‘You haven’t been?’

‘I haven’t been anywhere.’ Violet looked almost apologetic. ‘Except in my imagination, of course. Father worries about me. It’s partly due to my size, I think.’ She gave a self-deprecating smile. ‘He’s afraid I might get stepped on. But it would be nice to see a little of the world outside Whitby for a change.’

‘Then perhaps we’ll make a trip one day.’

‘Truly?’ Violet clasped her hand with a look of sheer delight. ‘Oh, I should love to. Father doesn’t approve of many women, but I feel sure he’ll like you. It would be so nice to have a friend of my own age to talk to.’

‘I’d like that, too.’ Ianthe felt her spirits lift. If the father were anything at all like his daughter then Robert was worrying unnecessarily. Violet already felt like a kindred spirit.

‘Then I’m so glad we’ve met.’ The other woman blushed suddenly. ‘But you must forgive me for talking so much. I know you’re here to see my father. Please do come this way.’

She led them into a dark, oak-panelled parlour hung with a series of increasingly severe-looking portraits, before gesturing towards a large armchair set beside a blazing fireplace.

‘Mr and Mrs Felstone are here to see you, Papa.’

‘How do you do, Mr Harper?’ Ianthe took a step forward, bowing her head modestly.

‘So he’s brought you to see me at last then, has he?’

She looked up into a pair of unblinking, cold eyes, regarding her dispassionately from the depths of the armchair. ‘I’m glad to be here, Mr Harper.’

‘Take a seat, then.’

‘Thank you.’ She sat down opposite, perching on the edge of a particularly uncomfortable-looking chair as Violet moved to stand beside him. ‘You have a very interesting house, sir.’

‘Do I?’ The old man’s brows twitched in what might have been a frown, though his face was so craggy it was impossible to tell. The furrows were so deeply set it was impossible to imagine him ever smiling.

‘Yes, it’s ve—’

‘What do you want from me, madam?’

She blinked at the interruption. ‘Nothing from you, sir. I simply wanted to meet you and your daughter. I’ve no acquaintances in Whitby and my husband’s told me so much about you.’

‘About my shipyard, you mean?’ The old man gave a snort of derision. ‘You’re here to persuade me to sell up, I suppose?’

‘Not at all. It’s yours to do with as you wish.’

‘I’m glad to hear it. I make up my own mind, don’t I, Violet?’

‘Yes, Fa—’

‘Are you a sensible woman?’ He didn’t wait for his daughter to finish. ‘This one fills her head with stories and other such nonsense. I hope you’re not so foolish.’

Ianthe pursed her lips, torn between the impulse to take Violet’s side and the need to impress her father. ‘I have a high regard for education, sir.’