e either. This last year has been exhausting, like trying to hold back the tide. Just a little longer and then your sister can visit whoever, whenever she likes.’
Chapter Fourteen
‘There. Will she approve, do you think?’
Arthur looked at Meg’s reflection in the mirror just in time to see the dog tip her head to one side and yawn.
‘Well, that serves me right for asking a dog. I appreciate the support.’
He bent down to ruffle the sheepdog’s ears and then straightened up again, adjusting his cravat for the fifth—or was it sixth?—time as he tried to judge his appearance for himself. The suit Lance had lent him fitted perfectly and he’d let his hair grow longer over the past few weeks so that he actually resembled the old version of himself today, even if he still refused to grow a fashionable set of whiskers. Loathe though he was to admit it, if it wasn’t for that one omission, he might actually pass muster as a gentleman.
‘Come on.’ He whistled to Meg and started purposefully down the stairs. He’d got out of bed even earlier than usual to see to his chores and he had a boy from the village coming to keep an eye on the animals, but if he didn’t hurry then he was still going to be late. It was the first time he’d taken an entire afternoon off in years and he wasn’t sure that he wasn’t making a huge mistake.
But it wouldn’t be so bad, he reassured himself. Most of the guests would be family and close friends of Lance and Violet, though it was inevitable that there’d be a few members of Whitby society as well. Doubtless it wouldn’t take them long to report back on a sighting of the reclusive Viscount Scorborough, which meant that he’d have to get used to being an object of gossip again. If he had any sense, he’d turn around, go back upstairs and take a well-deserved nap instead. Damn it all, what the hell had he been thinking, accepting the invitation? And not just for himself, but encouraging Frances to attend, too...
Frances. The thought of her made his heart flip over in an utterly uncharacteristic fashion. She’d agreed to go to the garden party and unveiled, too. Whatever irritations he had to contend with, they paled into insignificance besides that. He wouldn’t let her down by backing out now. Being stared at, gawked at and generally speculated upon as if he were some kind of rare zoological exhibit would be irritating, but he could walk away from those. What he couldn’t walk away from was Frances, his friend, his good friend, his good friend who he found increasingly attractive and whose company he found himself craving more and more.
It wasn’t an ideal situation. In fact, given the identity of her sister, it was a very long way from ideal, but the need to see her again was becoming an ache, one that he knew he ought to ignore, but couldn’t. Over the five days since he’d last seen her, hardly a minute had passed when he hadn’t thought about her—and had it really just been five days? It felt like an eternity. He wanted to meet her in public formally, to show her around Amberton Castle, to speak with her parents...
The latter thought drew him up short. Why did he want to speak with her parents? Surely only a proper suitor would do that and he wasn’t one of those...was he?
He sat down on the bench at the front door to pull on his boots. Over the past few days, on those few occasions when he hadn’t been thinking about Frances, that was, he’d let himself consider what Lance had said about his ‘accident’ and the other similar cases he’d seen in the army. He’d started seriously to consider the possibility that it might have been an isolated occasion after all, one brought on by an unbearable situation.
Painful though it had been, he’d even allowed himself to think about what had happened to his father. Lance and Frances were both right about that. Yes, he might have contributed to his collapse, but it hadn’t been intentional. He’d always feel guilty about it, but he hadn’t known what he’d been doing. And if everyone else thought he was punishing himself too much, then why shouldn’t he put the past behind him and move on? He didn’t feel in danger of another episode again now. On the contrary, he felt happier than he had in a long time. So why shouldn’t he banish his fears and lead a normal life? Why shouldn’t he pay court to Frances?
He wasn’t quite sure when he’d started to change his mind about himself and his future, only he sensed that it had been happening for a while, starting around the time when she’d first shown him her scar in his kitchen. He’d thought that his heart was untouchable, but now he realised it had only lain dormant. In any case, now that he’d opened his mind to the idea of being a suitor, he seemed unable to stop thinking about it. At the very least, he needed to speak with Frances since there was the strong possibility that she only thought of him as a friend. The way that she’d rested her head on his shoulder when he’d been telling her his story had felt intimate, but perhaps she’d only meant to comfort him. There was only one way to find out...
He closed his front door and strode across the yard, aware of a tingling sensation in his chest that felt, annoyingly, like excitement. As if he were a youth in the throes of first love and not a jaded farmer who was ten years older than the object of his affections... Then he stopped abruptly, caught off guard by a high-pitched squealing sound followed by a commotion coming from the direction of the stable. What the...? He spun quickly towards it, noticing as he did so the open gate of the pigsty, and broke into a run. He must have been so distracted earlier that he’d left the sty open after filling the trough and now the location of his two sows and their twelve piglets was becoming increasingly, and loudly, obvious.
He burst into the stable just in time for five of the piglets to rush past him, leaving his horses jumping and kicking their hind legs in outrage.
‘Whoa.’ He put a hand on the nearest horse’s neck and looked around. The rest of the piglets were already fleeing, leaving a trail of commotion as they trotted back to the yard.
He muttered a string of epithets, pulling his jacket off and draping it over the stable door as he closed it firmly behind him. Then he rolled his sleeves up, surveying the scene with dismay. The piglets were spread out all over, their little pink bodies covered with varying amounts of muck and other substances he preferred not to think about. His suit would never survive the chase, let alone be in a fit state to be seen afterwards, but there was no time for him to go and change or who knew what fresh turmoil he might find. Meg was barking at the top of her lungs, the usually somnolent cats were scattering in all directions, the chickens seemed to be in fear for their lives and the boy from the village still hadn’t arrived yet. There was chaos and uproar everywhere he looked. Which meant that he had no choice but to catch them himself. More than that, he had to hurry.
He muttered one last imprecation and charged in.
* * *
Frances stood beside a bed of purple-blue hydrangeas at Amberton Castle, feeling as self-conscious as if she were naked. She’d deliberately not brought a veil with her so that she couldn’t change her mind and now she felt as though every eye in the garden was upon her.
It wasn’t true, of course. The rational part of her brain knew that. On the contrary, most people were busy playing games amid the flower beds, exploring the strange, rose-shaped maze or drinking chilled wine under a canopy that appeared to have been specially erected for the occasion. Her parents, meanwhile, were standing on either side of her like a pair of sentinels ready to do battle so that, although a few people had looked at her face a little longer than was strictly polite, no one had reacted in horror or outrage. Some of her old friends had even smiled as if they were actually pleased to see her out in society again.
Despite that, every introduction had been painful. She’d felt every look, felt them as though she were being pummelled by hundreds of tiny, invisible fists. When she undressed for bed that night, she had the vague suspicion that her body would be covered with a patchwork of purple bruises.
Worst of all was the fact that Arthur hadn’t come. After the way he’d encouraged her, the way that he’d promised to support her, he’d failed to keep his end of the bargain—a bargain he’d initiated! She’d been a fool to think he might actually care about seeing her, to think that he was any more reliable or had any more depth than Leo either. So much for friendship. The next time she saw him, she’d find the biggest stone on the beach and hurl it straight at his head.
‘Mr and Mrs Webster?’ Violet Amberton approached them with a good-natured smile. ‘Would you mind if I borrowed your daughter for a while? My husband keeps insisting I sit down, but I’m afraid that if I do then I won’t be able to get up again. A gentle stroll would be just the thing and I’d like a companion. If you don’t mind, of course, Miss Webster?’
‘Why, I’m sure she’d be delighted.’ Her mother looked both startled and pleased at the same time. ‘Wouldn’t you, darling?’
‘Yes, thank you, I’d like a walk very much.’ Frances inclined her head politely, temporarily suspending all thoughts of violence against Arthur. His sister-in-law was a far better actress than she would have expected. Nobody witnessing her behaviour would have had any idea that they’d met before.
‘There now.’ Violet led her towards a gravelled path that meandered its way through the centre of the garden. ‘Now that we’ve officially met and become friends, you’ll be able to visit whenever you want, if you want to, of course.’
‘Of course. You know I wanted to come before, only under the circumstances...’
‘Oh, yes, Arthur explained the difficulty.’ Violet squeezed her arm. ‘But I’m happy you’re here now.’