The Viscount's Veiled Lady (Whitby Weddings 3)

‘I would never hurt Frances!’

‘But you are. This is failing her! So go and tell her what a damned fool you’ve been. Go and demand to know why she ended your engagement and then propose to her again.’ Lance kicked away the log from the block. ‘Do whatever the hell it takes to win her back.’

Arthur drew in a deep breath and then let it out again. ‘All right, let’s just say for a moment that you’re right, what do I do? What do I say to her?’

Lance threaded his fingers together, flexed them and then grinned. ‘I was afraid you’d never ask...’

* * *

Frances climbed up beside Lydia and Georgie on the trap. She’d been vaguely surprised when her sister had suggested a ride out, even more so when their mother hadn’t objected, though Frances had eventually agreed to accompany her on condition they didn’t go far. She had work to finish, a pair of matching brooches in a pre-Raphaelite design that she personally thought were the best pieces she’d ever produced. Mr Horsham had already offered to take them, as well as anything else she made. Her jewellery was selling so quickly that she could barely keep up with demand. Which was just as well since working distracted her.

‘Are you sure that you ought to be doing this so soon?’ She glanced nervously at Lydia as her sister took up the reins.

‘Perfectly sure and it’s not so soon. It’s been a month and you know what they say about getting back on the horse.’

‘The doctor still says...’

‘That I’m lucky I wasn’t more badly hurt and that I shouldn’t overdo things?’

‘Yes, so maybe you should listen.’

‘I am, but it’s such a beautiful day. I doubt we’ll get many more like it before winter and Georgie and I want a picnic up on the Moors, don’t we, darling?’

‘The Moors?’ Frances stiffened, belatedly noticing that they were taking the road towards Sleights. ‘But I thought you didn’t like the Moors?’

‘I didn’t used to, but I’ve changed my mind about a lot of things since the accident.’

‘Can’t we go somewhere else?’

‘No, and don’t even think about jumping down and abandoning us. I could faint at any moment.’

‘You just said you felt fine.’

‘For now. Only my head feels dizzy already.’

‘Oh, all right.’ Frances folded her arms in chagrin. ‘Then I hope you’ve brought cake.’

‘Naturally. Some lemon buns from Mrs Botham’s. Georgie told me how much you like them.’

‘Did he?’ She looked askance at her sister.

‘Yes. In fact, he’s told me a lot of interesting things recently, all about cakes and picnics and building sandcastles on the beach.’

‘Mmmm.’ Frances twisted her face to one side, making a pretence of looking at the landscape as they branched off from the main road and on to a smaller track over the moors.

‘Speaking of castles...’ Lydia carried on blithely. ‘I thought it was high time I visited Amberton Castle again.’

‘What?’ Frances swung round again so quickly that she felt a searing pain in the back of her skull. ‘Why?’

‘Partly because I missed the garden party and partly because we’ve been invited. The grounds there should be lovely for a picnic.’

‘No!’ She felt her stomach lurch almost painfully. ‘Not there, Lydia, please. I mean, I want to see Violet and the babies again, but...’

‘Oh, she isn’t the one who invited us.’

‘You mean Lance?’

‘Guess again.’ Lydia threw her a smile. ‘Though it shouldn’t be too hard. There’s only one other answer.’