The Viscount's Veiled Lady (Whitby Weddings 3)

‘I still think...’ she stopped and swallowed, as if she were having trouble forming words ‘...that you ought to go and speak with her.’

‘If you want me to, but—’

‘Our engagement was a mistake,’ she interrupted, speaking in a sudden rush.

‘What?’ The words seemed to hit him with the force of a physical blow. ‘What do you mean, a mistake?’

‘We were both forced into it, but there’s no need for the charade to continue any longer. I’ll deal with my father and I don’t care about gossip.’

‘Frances...’ This time he did move towards her, seized with an acute sense of panic. He ought to be glad, he told himself, or at least relieved that she was ending things and saving him from doing it, but all he could feel was dread and an intense sense of loss. That and an incongruous desire to win her back.

‘You don’t mean that.’

‘Yes, I do.’ She put a hand up, backing away from him at the same time as he advanced towards her. ‘I’ve made up my mind.’

‘Well, I haven’t! We weren’t just forced into it. That’s not all there was between us, you know that.’

‘That was a mistake, too.’ Her cheeks darkened, though her determined expression didn’t falter. ‘If you’re referring to the night when Violet had her twins, we were both exhausted and emotional. People do strange things in those kinds of situations. You know that better than anyone.’

He jerked his chin up as if she’d just struck him. Yes, he knew that, of course he did. It was what he was afraid of. But if he was certain of anything, it was that he hadn’t imagined his feelings for her, or his desire either. He’d never felt more certain of anything in his whole life. But then he’d been certain that she cared for him, too...

‘You wish to end our engagement, then?’

‘Yes—’ she nodded firmly ‘—but I’ll make it clear that it was my decision. No one will blame you.’

‘I don’t give a damn if anyone blames me!’

‘None the less, I’ll make it clear. Since I’m the one who made the mistake...’ She looked past him towards the sea, as if her thoughts were already moving on. ‘I hope that we can still be friends.’

‘Friends.’ He couldn’t stop his lip from curling. ‘If that’s what you want.’

‘It is.’ She gave another decisive nod. ‘Just don’t forget to visit Lydia. I know she’ll be glad to see you.’

Chapter Twenty-Five

Arthur slammed his axe down hard on to a log, splitting it down the middle and sending pieces splintering off in different directions. He had a big enough pile of firewood already, probably enough for the whole winter if he didn’t stop chopping soon, but he didn’t want to stop. He’d finally found a way to vent his feelings, the combination of loss, frustration and regret that only seemed to have grown in intensity every day for the past month. His broken engagement was now public knowledge, a feat that had been accomplished without any effort from him, and he was a free man. Alone again, just as he’d wanted. Alone and damned miserable.

‘What did that log ever do to you?’

He glowered at the sound of hoofbeats, accompanied by his brother’s carefree voice.

‘What do you want, Lance?’

‘Oh, nothing much. I just wanted to remind you that we’re leaving at the end of this week, that’s all.’

He dropped the axe with a sigh. ‘Not this again, Lance.’

‘Yes, this again. You might not want it to happen, but it is. Our new house is ready and Violet tells me the nursery is a thing of beauty. She can’t wait to move in.’

‘What about all the money you’ve spent on Amberton Castle?’

‘Considering that the iron mine is on your land and earns me a pretty decent return, I’d say we’re even, especially since Francis and Sophoria are the heirs.’

‘Which is exactly why you should stay and look after the house for them. How can you just abandon our family home?’

Lance made a face. ‘I don’t think people in glass houses should be quite so sanctimonious.’

‘My situation’s different.’