The Viscount's Veiled Lady (Whitby Weddings 3)

‘My brother’s a famously excellent sailor.’ Lance came to her rescue, trying to lighten the mood, but Arthur turned around again, speaking over him.

‘Quite the contrary, my experiences, as you call them, only made me more attached to the water. I told you, I didn’t want to come back. Given the choice I’d still be somewhere in the middle of the North Sea.’ He pulled his arm away from the mantelpiece decisively. ‘But it’s getting late. My brother thinks you ought to go home in his carriage and I agree. It’s time for you to leave, Miss Webster.’

‘Oh!’ She sprang up as if she’d just been catapulted out of her seat, pulling her veil down with a sharp tug, though not before he saw the expression of hurt on her face, enough to give him a sharp stab of guilt. ‘Yes, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to impose.’

‘You’re not imposing at all.’ Violet shot her brother-in-law a recriminatory look. ‘I’ve had a delightful evening. I can’t travel much at the moment, but I do hope you’ll come again and bring some of your jewellery for me to admire. I’m sure it’s exquisite.’

‘Thank you.’ Her voice sounded faintly muffled behind her veil. ‘I’d like that, too.’

‘Oh, very well, then.’ Lance heaved himself out of his armchair with a sigh. ‘I was just getting comfortable, but since my brother is such a stick-in-the-mud, I suppose there’s no rest for the wicked. With your permission, Miss Webster, I’ll call for the carriage and escort you home myself.’

‘I’ll come, too.’ Arthur took a step forward.

‘No.’ She made a move as if to forestall him. ‘I’ve inconvenienced you quite enough already.’

‘I never said...’

‘But you’re no inconvenience to me.’ Lance made a gallant bow, pointedly blocking the way. ‘In fact, I’d be honoured to escort you. As for you, dear Brother, under the circumstances perhaps you ought to go and mend your manners elsewhere.’

Chapter Seven

‘Ride a cock horse to Banbury Cross...’

Frances bounced a giggling Georgie up and down on her knee, pretending to almost drop and then catch him again as her sister paced the length of the drawing room like a caged and increasingly irate animal.

‘Is that really all he said?’

Lydia’s cheeks were pink, though whether from anger, frustration or exertion, Frances couldn’t tell. After eight days of being subjected to the same questions, however, she was getting used to deflecting the truth.

‘Yes. I’m sorry, Lydia, but he said he’d already given his answer.’

‘But you were gone for so long!’

‘I told you, I sprained my ankle on the way home. It’s hard to be quick when you’re hobbling on one leg.’

‘Well, it seems quite a coincidence that you were found by Captain Amberton.’

‘It was, wasn’t it? But it was over a week ago now. Can we please let the matter rest?’

Quickly, she turned her attention back to tickling Georgie under his armpits, ignoring the glint of

suspicion in her sister’s eye. Not that she was lying outright, she told herself, just not telling the whole truth. Besides, as it turned out, she hadn’t needed to lie. Lance Amberton had done all the talking for her, escorting her to her parents’ front door with a story about finding her at the side of the Sandsend-Whitby road that had almost convinced even her. He’d been charming and courteous, a perfect gentleman, in fact. Everything that his brother was not.

She’d tried her hardest not to think about him for the past week, a feat that hadn’t been easy given the frequency of Lydia’s questions, though overall she thought she’d done a reasonable job. She’d certainly consigned her ideas about the old Arthur Amberton to the past. Either her girlish memories of him had been mistaken or he’d changed so completely that the old version no longer existed. The kind, thoughtful man she’d remembered had been replaced by an ill-mannered, domineering brute. There was no danger of her wanting to renew her acquaintance with him, although she hoped to visit Amberton Castle again soon. That was the one good thing to come out of the evening. Violet and Lance had been considerate and welcoming, putting her so much at ease that she’d eventually felt comfortable enough to remove her veil, something she rarely did except with her own family. She’d enjoyed her evening with them far more than she’d expected, right up until the moment when Arthur had dismissed her as if she were just some inconvenience to be got rid of.

His rejection had been all too familiar, though it had felt doubly hurtful somehow, as if he’d attacked her when her guard was down. After all, he was the one who’d taken her there! He was the one who’d actually insisted that she accompany him! When he’d asked about her jewellery it had reminded her of their old conversations in her mother’s parlour and when he’d almost smiled at her, she’d even started tentatively to wonder whether they might possibly be friends again. What a foolish idea that had been! But then why had she assumed he’d be any different from anyone else? Especially when he’d made it abundantly clear that she’d been nothing but a burden from the start. That was all she’d ever be to anyone, but the memory still hurt, as if he were Leo all over again...

‘Well, it was very disappointing.’ Lydia was still pacing up and down. ‘When I saw you with a man, I thought you’d brought him back with you. I was in such a rush to put on my new lavender muslin that I tore the hem.’

‘Lavender?’ Frances rolled her eyes. ‘Lydia, you know you can’t wear lavender for another two months.’

‘Oh, you sound just like Mama, but I doubt Arthur knows when John’s funeral was exactly. He won’t know if it’s appropriate to wear or not. Lavender suits me.’

‘Everything suits you, but, Lydia, maybe you ought to just let him go. He wasn’t very polite when I spoke to him and I’m sure you’ll have plenty of other suitors once you’re allowed out of mourning.’

‘I don’t want other suitors!’ Lydia’s expression turned fierce. ‘I want Arthur Amberton. Only perhaps I need to try a different approach.’

Frances’s heart sank. ‘What kind of approach?’