The Viscount's Veiled Lady (Whitby Weddings 3)

‘Shall I call for some tea?’

‘I think that would be a wonderful idea.’

‘I’ll just be a couple of minutes.’ Frances smiled at her mother’s contented expression. She hadn’t seen her looking so happy in years. ‘Only I’ll just take these boxes upstairs fi—’

She didn’t get any further as the door to her father’s study opened and he stepped out, accompanied by another man, a gentleman judging by his appearance, starkly and yet elegantly dressed in a black superfine suit and grey-silk waistcoat. Both he and her father were smiling, though it wasn’t so much that as his identity that made her jaw drop in amazement.

‘Arthur?’

She forced her mouth shut again with a snap, though she still couldn’t stop herself from staring. How many more versions of one man could there be? This one looked like a blend of the old and new Arthurs, well groomed, fashionable and yet still somehow ruggedly handsome. He’d been growing his hair over the past month so that he looked less severe and his new clothes—at least she presumed they were new—fitted him perfectly. Almost too perfectly, she thought, forcibly dragging her eyes away, enhancing his broad frame and drawing attention to the muscular body beneath.

‘Frances.’ He reached for her hand when she made no move to lift it, raising it to his mouth and pressing his lips against the backs of her fingers, holding her gaze with the same intensity she’d seen on his face just before he’d kissed her at Amberton Castle.

‘Yes.’ She wasn’t sure what else to say, struck dumb by the change in him. Yes, she was Frances... But it hadn’t really been a question, had it? It was more of a greeting, not requiring an answer...unless she ought to say his name, too... She took a deep breath, trying to collect her scattered thoughts, which wasn’t easy when he showed no sign of releasing her hand...

‘I thought you might like to join me for a walk on the promenade?’

‘I...’ She glanced nervously towards her father. ‘I thought...’

‘I believe Lord Scorborough and I have come to an understanding.’ To her surprise, her father’s expression bordered on approval. ‘Under the circumstances, I think a walk is perfectly acceptable.’

‘You can wear your new bonnet, dear.’ Her mother was already enthusiastically opening up a hatbox. ‘The cream lining looked so pretty with your hair.’

Frances made a face. After being poked at and prodded for hours, she had a feeling she looked even more ragged than she had that morning. All the new bonnets in the world were never going to disguise that.

‘There’s no need, Mama. I’m still dressed for outdoors, as you see.’ She relented at her mother’s crestfallen expression. ‘But of course if you think I ought to freshen up first... I’ll just be a moment, A—Lord Scorborough.’

She grabbed an armful of boxes and fled upstairs to her bedroom, quickly removing her old bonnet and replacing it with the new. To her surprise, the wide brim and cream-coloured lining really did make her look better, so much so that it seemed a shame to wear it with her old grey cloak.

Carefully, she opened up another box and drew out a new, navy-blue paletot. It was one of the few items that she’d chosen herself, a three-quarter-length velvet jacket with gold buttons that she’d fallen in love with at first sight. She caressed the fabric and then pulled it on over her shoulders, smoothing out the sleeves and adding a new pair of navy gloves to complete the ensemble. There. She regarded herself in the mirror approvingly. At least now she wouldn’t look so out of place beside her handsome fiancé.

Fiancé. The very word made her heart stall, as did the prospect of the conversation she now had to have with him. Now that the opportunity had presented itself, she almost wished she could find a way to escape it. Somehow she had to find a way to explain the events of the day before and offer to release him from their engagement. No matter what understanding he’d come to with her father, she had to offer him that. If she could just keep a clear head...

She made her way down the staircase again, surprised to find him deep in conversation with her very animated-looking mother.

‘Ah, here she is.’ Even her father was smiling by the time she reached them. ‘You look very nic

e, my dear.’

‘Shall we?’ Arthur offered his arm and she looped her hand through it, wondering just how exactly she expected to keep her mind clear when even that light touch sent a ripple of excitement racing through her. She shifted her body sideways, trying to keep as far away from him as possible without actually leaning.

‘Very good.’ Her father nodded approvingly. ‘Now, tea, I think.’

Chapter Nineteen

‘What was all that about?’ Frances asked the moment they were out in the street.

‘All what?’ Arthur gave a small tug, drawing her closer.

‘You and my mother.’ Her heart skipped a beat as their shoulders bumped together. ‘You seemed engrossed.’

‘Oh, that. We were discussing the price of lace. I’m given to understand that it’s gone up recently.’

‘You were talking about lace?’

‘Yes. Lace is made from yarn. Yarn is a crop. I’m interested in crops. Ergo...’ He shrugged. ‘Is it so hard to believe I can make polite conversation?’

‘No-o, but what about my father? How did you convince him to let us go for a walk? He said that I wasn’t allowed out of his sight until we were married.’