The Viscount's Veiled Lady (Whitby Weddings 3)

Arthur rubbed his sleeve over his face. He’d been elated for the first few days after his engagement, but now Lance’s words made him feel mildly discomforted. I suppose Frances knows what she’s getting herself into... But she didn’t, did she? He might have told her all about his past, but he hadn’t mentioned anything about his fears for the future. He’d hinted at them perhaps, but he’d never actually told her just how concerned he was about the possibility of losing his mind again. Over the past month he’d managed to convince himself that he’d put the past behind him, but what if he was wrong? What if there was still a chance of another episode? Shouldn’t he warn her? At least give her a chance to change her mind about marrying him?

He grimaced at the thought of how that conversation might go. Dear Frances, as much as I’d like you to marry me, you ought to know that there’s a good chance my mind is unstable and I might run away again. Only try not to worry. It only happened once before for nine months. Hardly any time at all really... What bride wouldn’t want to hear such sweet words?

He slammed a hand down on the workbench. At least the artist’s studio he was preparing for her was starting to take shape. Contrary to what she’d assumed, he had no intention of stopping her from making jewellery and hopefully this would prove it to her. There was a new stove and lamp, as well as a rug he’d taken from the parlour to make it more cosy. Of course, they’d need a new one for the parlour at some point, but he’d let Frances choose that. She’d probably want to redecorate the whole house according to her own tastes. That was if she wanted to live there at all. Maybe she assumed that they’d move into Amberton Castle. Everything had happened so quickly there hadn’t been a chance to discuss it. Maybe there were more things he ought to discuss with her?

He ran a hand over his head. The more he thought of it, the more telling her the truth, all of it, seemed unavoidable. It would be difficult, painful even, but his conscience wouldn’t let him marry her until he had. If she was the woman he thought she was, then she’d understand and at least it would give him an excuse to visit her again, something he hadn’t done for the past four days and which he was finding increasingly difficult to bear.

There was a sound of hooves and he went outside to see a horse and rider galloping into the yard. One glimpse of red hair and he recognised Lance’s young protégé, a youth he’d taken into his service five years before and was now training as a steward.

‘Daniel?’ He caught at the horse’s reins. ‘What’s the matter?’

‘It’s Mrs Amberton, sir. The baby’s coming. She wants...’

‘The baby?’ Lance was already standing on the farmhouse doorstep, his face ashen. ‘Now?’

‘Yes, sir. It came on very sudden. I got here as quickly as I could.’

‘You’ve done well.’ Arthur was already throwing a saddle over his own horse. ‘What about a doctor?’

‘Mrs Gargrave’s sent for one, sir.’

‘Good... Lance!’ Arthur bellowed as his brother showed no sign of moving. ‘Come on!’

‘It shouldn’t be happening yet.’ Lance still didn’t move. With his grey pallor he looked almost like a statue.

‘That doesn’t mean it’s a bad thing. You said so yourself. You wanted the babe to come early, remember?’

‘Yes, but not this early!’ Lance shook his head. ‘I should never have said that. This is all my fault.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous.’ Arthur practically hurled his horse’s reins at him. ‘It doesn’t work that way. Now get on your horse. Violet needs you. Now!’

‘Violet!’

La