The Viscount's Veiled Lady (Whitby Weddings 3)

‘There was no point. She wasn’t

the woman I’d thought she was, perfect or otherwise. If my heart broke, it wasn’t over her. It was over a figment of my imagination.’

‘Oh.’ There was a strange look on her face. ‘But then I don’t understand. Why didn’t you go home again? If you realised all that, why did you still run away to sea?’

Chapter Twelve

Arthur lifted both of their hands and looked at the interlaced fingers. He’d told Lance and Violet what had happened to him that day, but was he really going to tell Frances, too? Did he trust her so much?

‘That morning...’ he forced himself to speak ‘...something inside me just seemed to snap. I was afraid that if I went back to my father then I’d never be able to break free from him again. I’d be under his control for years, possibly decades. I found myself at the harbour even before I realised where I was going. I’d always loved sailing so I climbed into our boat and took it out by myself. It was a clear day. There were gannets and puffins and cormorants on the cliff tops, screeching loudly enough to drown out all thought. I remember sitting on the prow, looking out at the water and feeling a strange sense of peace, as if all of my worries, all of the strain I’d been under didn’t matter any more. Lance was gone, my father had renounced me and Lydia had found someone else. I’d done my best, but it was over. I’d failed, but I didn’t owe anything to any of them any more. So I stopped thinking and just felt...peaceful. And then, somehow, I was in the water. It felt soft and comforting, as if I were being embraced by the waves.’

She leaned sideways, rubbing her shoulder against his as if to comfort him. ‘Did you want to drown?’

‘No. I can see why you might think so, but, no. I wanted to be free, but I never wanted to die. I was just moving by instinct, swimming and swimming further away from the shore. I had this strange idea that it would all be all right, that somebody would find me, which luckily they did.’

‘The fishing boat?’

‘Yes, on its way back to Scotland. I was half-conscious by then and they probably thought I was either mad or a criminal on the run, but they let me work on the deck anyway. It was hard labour, but I enjoyed it. Bizarre as it sounds, it felt like a kind of rebirth. I was a man without a past, without a name, but it was who I wanted to be.’

‘Because you were free?’

‘Yes. For nine months, it was as though the rest of the world didn’t exist. Then one day, we made port in Newcastle and I decided to join the others for a drink in the harbour. We sat outside a tavern and listened through the open window to the owner telling a story about a family near Whitby, a viscount and his twin sons.’ He ran a hand over his head at the memory. ‘I heard the truth by chance, all about my father’s death and Lance being shot in Canada.’

‘Oh, Arthur...’ there were tears in her eyes now ‘...that must have been terrible.’

‘It was. I felt as if I’d been living in a dream and I finally woke up to find all the things I’d put out of my head for months crashing down on me like a wave. That time, I really did feel as if I were drowning.’

‘But you came back.’

‘Yes...’ He cleared his throat as his voice cracked. ‘I didn’t want to, but I had to find out whether Lance was still alive. I hurried back as quickly as I could and broke into Amberton Castle in the middle of the night. It scared him and Violet half to death. They thought I was a ghost at first—understandably, I might add. It wasn’t easy, explaining that I’d gone mad for almost a year.’

‘You weren’t mad. That’s not the right word.’ She tipped her head, laying her cheek against his shoulder.

‘That’s what Lance says.’ He turned his own head slightly, breathing in the scent of her hair. ‘But most people would say I belong in an institution.’

‘Most people don’t understand what it’s like to go through something like that, to feel as if your whole world has been turned upside down.’

‘So they’re all wrong?’

‘They’re all judgemental. Anybody might have snapped.’

‘Not anybody.’

‘How do you know?’ She lifted her head again indignantly, narrowly avoiding head-butting him in the chin. ‘How does anybody know how they’ll react in any situation? None of us do, no matter what we might say or think about ourselves. The main thing is that you came back. That proves that your mother was right about you.’

He smiled half-sadly, half-affectionately. ‘Frances, how can it be strong to lose your senses?’

‘Because you regained them! And when you did, you came back and faced what you’d done. Listen to me!’ She glared at him as he started to shake his head. ‘You were the one who just said that beauty isn’t real beauty until it’s been tested. Well, maybe strength and courage have to be tested as well. Some people would have given up completely. Some would have kept on running and never come back. Maybe you’re stronger now because of what happened.’

‘At the cost of my father.’

‘Your father was as much to blame for the situation as you were! Yes, you gave him a terrible shock, but you never intended to hurt him. Whereas he must have known the pressure he was putting on you. He was the one who refused to let you live your own life!’

‘You sound like Lance and Violet.’

‘Well, doesn’t that tell you something? We can’t all be wrong. You should listen to at least one of us.’

‘I know. Rationally, I know it, but if I could go back...’