The Viscount's Veiled Lady (Whitby Weddings 3)

He stopped shovelling and rested an arm on the top of his spade. He was hardly going to admit that he’d been thinking about Frances. That afternoon had been the fourth in a row he’d gone looking for her and he’d been pleased and relieved by his eventual success. Firstly, because he’d wanted to apologise to her for his behaviour at Amberton Castle and, secondly, because he’d needed to work out why he couldn’t stop thinking about her. Ever since that afternoon when she’d appeared like some kind of apparition in his hallway he’d been finding it harder and harder to concentrate.

At first he’d wondered if it was because of Lydia, worrying that the old, weak part of him might be drawn to her because of their physical resemblance, yet the moment he’d laid eyes on Frances sitting on the beach, he’d known that that wasn’t true. He’d wanted to see her and after half an hour spent in her company, the urge had only slightly diminished. All he knew now was that he wanted to see her again and soon. Neither of which details he intended to share with his brother.

‘What are you doing here, Lance?’

‘Looking for you. I came by after lunch, as if happens, but there was no sign of you. I presumed you were off sowing seeds or something.’

‘It’s July.’

‘Harvesting, then?’

‘Not quite yet. I’ve been down on the shore.’

‘Really?’ Lance’s gaze sharpened. ‘Taking some time off? That doesn’t sound like you.’

‘Helping to load lobster pots, if you must know.’

‘Ah.’ His brother looked disappointed. ‘In that case, you can take a break with me now. Only stay downwind if you don’t mind. No offence, but between the lobsters and the pigs, you’ve developed something of a potent aroma.’

Arthur sniffed his sleeve self-consciously. He hadn’t considered the smell of the lobster pots when he’d wandered over to join Frances. Had she wanted him to sit downwind, too?

‘Shouldn’t you be at the mine?’ He propped his spade against the fence and climbed over.

‘I was. Only I forgot something so I had to go back to the house.’

‘What was that?’

‘Just a document, nothing important now. What is important is who I found there.’

Arthur felt a distinct sense of apprehension. ‘You don’t mean...?’

‘Tenacious, isn’t she?’ Lance made a claw-like gesture with one hand. ‘Though ostensibly she came to call on Violet and thank me for rescuing her sister. She said she’d wanted to visit for, and I quote, simply an eternity, but hadn’t been able to on account of her mourning. Apparently she thought recent circumstances warranted an exception.’

‘Did she ask about me?’

‘I believe she was hoping that I would leave the room so she could, but I wasn’t about to abandon Violet. We had tea and biscuits. All terribly civilised.’ Lance gave him a pointed look. ‘You might need to start barricading your front door.’

‘I’m not hiding. Shall I make some coffee?’

‘I’d prefer something stronger.’

Arthur lifted an eyebrow. In their youth, Lance had regularly drunk to excess, but since his marriage to Violet he’d become a changed man. The fact that he wanted alcohol now suggested he wasn’t quite as relaxed as he liked to appear.

‘I’ve got a bottle of whisky somewhere. Take a seat.’ He gestured to a bench by the front door and went inside, returning a few minutes later with a bottle and two small glasses.

‘I could drink the lot.’ Lance tossed back the contents of his tumbler the moment it was in his hand.

‘Anything you want to talk about?’

‘Nothing new.’ Lance placed a hand on his forehead and squeezed. ‘Do you think there’s a way to make the baby come early?’

‘I’m not the person to ask. Have you spoken to a doctor?’

‘Several. They all tell me not to worry, but I can’t help it.’

‘I know.’ Arthur refilled his glass and put the bottle aside. There wasn’t anything else he could say, nothing but empty reassurances.

‘So let’s talk about something else.’ Lance rested his head back against the wall. ‘Seen the little sister again?’