The Convenient Felstone Marriage (Whitby Weddings 1)

Disquiet turned to a definite flutter of panic. ‘But where else would he be?’

‘I don’t know, ma’am, but there’s another gentleman here to see you.’

‘Do you mean Mr Harper?’ Ianthe glanced at the carriage clock on the mantelpiece. It was only seven o’clock, a full half hour before their guests were due to arrive, but perhaps they’d come early by mistake. ‘Please show him in.’

‘It’s not Mr Harper, ma’am. He says his name is Lester. Sir Charles Lester.’

‘Lester?’ She felt a jolt, as if the name itself were a weapon being hurled across the room at her. ‘Are you sure?’

‘Yes, ma’am. Shouldn’t I have let him in?’

Ianthe grabbed hold of a chair, steadying herself as the room started to spin around her. Surely it couldn’t be him, not now, not here, not him, not tonight! Surely it was too horrible a coincidence to be true—had to be some kind of mistake! What could he want with her tonight?

‘It’s all right, Hannah, it’s not your fault.’ She pulled herself up stiffly. ‘Please tell him I’m not at home.’

The maid shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other. ‘He said you’d say that, ma’am. Then he said I should give you this.’ She held out a small piece of folded paper.

‘What’s that?’ She eyed the paper nervously.

‘I don’t know, ma’am.’

‘Oh...no...of course not.’ She reached out and unfolded the note quickly. There was only one word, the name of a place, but it made her stomach plummet to the floor.

Bournemouth.

‘What should I tell him, ma’am?’

‘I don’t know.’ Ianthe put a hand to her mouth, feeling as though she were about to be sick. How could he know about Bournemouth? What did he know? Whatever it was, he apparently felt confident enough to come to her house and demand entry.

‘Mrs Felstone?’

‘Show him in.’ She clasped her hands together unsteadily. What could she do except see him? The threat in his note was obvious. If she refused to see him, there was no telling what he might say or do. Though, on the other hand, there was no telling what he might say or do if she did...

‘Very good, ma’am. Would you like me to stay?’

She gave a faint smile, touched by the maid’s offer. ‘Thank you, Hannah, but it’s all right. If the Harpers or Lovedays arrive, please show them into the small parlour and tell them I’ll be there in a moment.’

‘Yes, ma’am.’

‘And, Hannah...?’ She hesitated over her next words, knowing how bad they sounded, but needing to say them all the same. ‘If Mr Felstone returns, please don’t mention Sir Charles to him.’

Then she stood in the middle of the room, a prickling sensation running up and down the length of her spine as she waited for the Baronet to arrive. After what had happened in Pickering, she’d tried to convince herself that she’d never have to see him again, that he’d never dare show his face in Whitby, but here he was, proving that her irrational fears hadn’t been quite so irrational after all. Well, whatever he wanted, she’d just have to deal with it and send him on his way as quickly as possible. She still had half an hour to salvage the evening.

‘Ianthe.’ The Baronet appeared in the doorway almost at once, looking just as poised and elegant as she remembered, surveying her with an expression that could only be described as gloating. ‘It’s been too long.’

‘What do you want?’ She didn’t bother with pleasantries, pulling her shoulders back and facing up to him squarely. Whatever he’d come for, she wasn’t going to be intimidated, not again. This was her house. He couldn’t touch her here. One scream would bring everyone in hearing distance rushing to her aid.

‘What, no greeting?’ He feigned surprise. ‘You disappoint me, my dear. We used to be such good friends.’

‘We were never friends.’

‘A situation I intend to remedy now.’ He sat down in a chair as if making himself at home, eyes shining with the triumphant gleam of a predator who knows he has his prey cornered.

Well, she wasn’t cornered, not yet.

‘You’ve come to make friends?’

‘In a manner of speaking, yes. I think we ought to get on very well from now on. You know, your little performance had me quite fooled.’