The Viscount's Veiled Lady (Whitby Weddings 3)

‘Not for the first hour, but after that...’ She shrugged. ‘Well, what was I supposed to think?’

‘So you ran away and hid?’

‘I wasn’t hiding! I was taking a break and plotting revenge.’

‘Indeed?’ His eyes glittered with amusement. ‘And what particular form of vengeance did you come up with? I doubt it could be worse than chasing piglets.’

‘I was going to put sand in your next cake.’

‘Is that so?’

‘And throw a few rocks at you.’

‘That’s more like it. Then it’s a good job I did come to find you. Now, shall we get back to the house before I collapse from dehydration?’

He offered an arm and she looked at it in surprise for a few seconds before finally threading her hand through the crook of his elbow and letting him lead her back to the path, all the while trying to maintain an outward appearance of composure. It felt strange to be touching him. Strange and decidedly unsettling. They weren’t doing anything wrong. On the contrary, they were simply walking side by side like any other respectable lady and gentleman. Except that in all the weeks they’d been meeting on the beach, they’d never linked arms before, had barely even touched except by accident. Now she felt acutely aware of her body, of the thump of her heartbeat against her ribcage and the too-fast sound of her breathing, not to mention the thrilling sensation in her side as his muscular arm pressed against it.

‘I hope none of the piglets were injured.’ She felt a sudden need to keep talking.

‘Mmm?’ He sounded distracted. ‘Oh, no. The only injuries were to my pride and Lance’s suit. I was actually managing quite well until one of the sows got into the house. Apparently she wanted to take up residence in the parlour.’

‘Oh, dear. What’s her name?’

‘Whose?’

‘The sow’s?’

He looked amused. ‘I’ve called her a variety of names today, though none of them would bear repeating in public. Nuisance is probably the politest word.’

‘Well, you can’t call her that. She needs a name.’

‘I believe I mentioned that she’s a pig?’

‘Even pigs deserve names. Maybe she wouldn’t want to escape if you were nicer to her.’ She gave him an arch look. ‘What was the name of the heroine in the last book you read?’

‘I have no idea. I don’t get much time for reading any more.’

‘The last play you saw?’

‘Same answer.’

‘I suppose poetry’s out of the question then?’

‘I know a few sailor’s shanties, but I probably shouldn’t repeat them to a lady either. Mostly about a girl called...’ his lips twitched ‘...never mind. You’ll have to answer the question for me. What was the last book you read?’

‘Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland by Lewis Carroll. I bought it as a bedtime story for Georgie, but then ended up reading it myself.’

‘What’s it about?’

‘Well, there’s a girl called Alice who follows a white rabbit down a hole and ends up in a strange hall filled with lots of different-sized doors. Then there’s a magical potion and some cake and she grows and then shrinks and there’s a dodo and a talking caterpillar and the Queen of Hearts who wants to chop everyone’s head off...’ She saw his expression and stopped. ‘It’s hard to explain, but Alice is a pretty name. Or Dinah. That’s her cat.’

‘Dinah.’ He nodded decisively. ‘My grandmother’s name was Alice. I can’t in all conscience name a pig after her.’

‘Why not? Pigs are lovely. I’d be flattered to have one named after me.’

‘You wouldn’t have said so if you’d seen them earlier, but I can’t allow that either. It would be too confusing if the two of you ever met.’

‘Are we likely to?’ The question was out before she could think better of it.