The Viscount's Veiled Lady (Whitby Weddings 3)

‘No more than becoming a recluse to punish yourself for something you couldn’t help.’

He let one side of his mouth curve upwards, acknowledging the hit. She made a good point. ‘Then shall we both make an exception?’

‘You mean go to the party?’ She turned her face sharply towards the sea. ‘I think that my family will be shocked if I do.’

‘So will mine. And the rest of Whitby won’t know which of us to talk about first. Only I wonder if it’s time for us both to face the world again.’

‘Why?’ She kept her gaze averted. ‘Why should we? We don’t need to prove anything.’

‘No, we don’t need to, but I suppose I want to.’ He gazed at her profile in the sunshine, resisting the urge to draw closer. ‘You’ve made me want to join the world again, Frances.’

‘Oh.’ If he wasn’t mistaken, her cheeks darkened again.

‘You can wear your veil if you want to, but...’

‘I don’t want to.’

‘Good. Then we can go and support each other and if anyone stares, they’ll have me to deal with, not to mention Violet.’

‘What about Lydia? My parents won’t let her attend parties yet, but if anyone tells her that we’re friends...’

‘I’ll speak to her. Soon, I promise. Only let’s go to the garden party first.’ Despite his own better judgement, he felt suddenly determined to persuade her. ‘Will you meet me there, Frances? Will you face the world with me?’

‘Yes.’ She turned towards him again at last, smiling so widely it took his breath away. ‘Yes, I will.’

Chapter Thirteen

‘I’d like to come to the Ambertons’ garden party with you.’ Frances broached the subject with her mother as they walked through Pannett Park the next morning.

‘Pardon, dear?’ Her mother could hardly have sounded more startled if she’d just announced her intention of running away to London and becoming an actress. ‘Did you say that you wanted to come?’

‘Yes. The invitation was for all of us, wasn’t it?’ After one swift glance sideways, Frances kept her gaze fixed firmly on the pavement ahead. Her mother’s cheeks were a luminous shade of pink, as if she were already embarrassed by the idea of being seen with her. Fortunately, the closest pedestrians were a good ten feet ahead and, as far as she could tell, those approaching from the opposite direction weren’t acquaintances. Hopefully that would give her mother sufficient time to recover from the shock, or at least appear to, before she bumped into anyone she knew.

‘Of course.’ Her mother’s voice sounded conspicuously high-pitched. ‘I just didn’t think you cared for parties any more.’

‘I don’t, but since Captain Amberton rescued me the other week, I thought it might be churlish to refuse.’

‘Oh, I’m sure he wouldn’t think so, but if you’d really like to come...’ There was a telling pause. ‘Well, then, I’ll write and accept.’

‘Thank you.’ Frances took a couple of deep breaths. That was item one out of the way. As for item two, she had a feeling that wasn’t going to be quite so easy. After four years of not talking about her scar, it was hard to know where to start.

‘There’s something else.’ She found herself blurting the words out. ‘I’ve decided to stop wearing my veil.’

This time her mother’s response was less verbal than a high-pitched squeak of alarm.

‘My cheek is much better than it was,’ Frances pressed on determinedly. ‘And once people get used to it, they’ll stop looking, don’t you think? Hiding it away only makes it more mysterious.’

‘Perhaps, but...are you certain, dear?’ Her mother looked visibly distressed. ‘People can be so cruel. They might say things...’

‘I know and, yes, it might be upsetting at first, but I don’t want to spend the rest of my life hiding away.’ She stopped walking to pull the lace back from her face. ‘It’s time I faced the world again, Mama.’

‘Yes...’ her mother’s expression softened as she reached up and pressed a hand tenderly against her cheek ‘...perhaps it is.’

‘I don’t want—’ Frances started to argue and then stopped, the unexpected words of acceptance sinking slowly into her consciousness. ‘You mean...you don’t mind?’

‘Not if it’s what you want. I’ll support whatever decision you make, darling.’

‘But what about Papa? What will he say?’