The Viscount's Veiled Lady (Whitby Weddings 3)

‘I know.’ He squeezed her hand tighter, his gaze darkening. ‘I know that I hurt you, but it won’t happen again, Frances, I promise.’

She held her breath, looking down at their joined hands and resisting the urge to believe him. Part of her wanted to keep sinking, to fall to the very depths of the ocean and hide, but somehow his words buoyed her up again. He hadn’t rejected her because he didn’t want her, but because in some strange way he’d been trying to protect her. He’d been afraid of himself and his own inner demons... If she turned away from him and left now, wouldn’t she be making the same mistake, letting her own fear of rejection control her? Would she spend the rest of her life in a prison, jumping at shadows, too?

‘How do I know you won’t hurt me?’ She asked the question hesitantly.

‘Because from now on, I’ll be as strong as you need me to be. I can’t control the future, but I can stop being afraid of the past. When I left six years ago, it was because I thought my future held only misery and heartache. So I ran and I kept on running until a week ago. It took Lance to make me realise that. Now I know who I am and what I want and I want to be here. I won’t hide away any more. I intend to face up to my mistakes and be a better man. Because of you.’ He closed what was left of the space between them, lifting both of their hands and holding them over his heart. ‘I love you, Frances. I might still make mistakes, but I promise that I’ll always be here for you. I’ll never run away or make you feel rejected ever again, I swear it.’

‘Never?’ She could see the sunlight sparkling above the surface of the water now as he nodded, his eyes lighting up with a glimmer of hope.

‘Just give me a chance to prove myself. You don’t have to agree to marry me. Just give me a chance to win you back again.’

‘No.’

‘No?’ The light in his eyes faded, the muscles in his jaw all bunching at once.

‘No.’ She heaved in a deep breath as she burst through the waves and into the air again. ‘You don’t need to prove yourself because I already believe you. Whatever challenges we face in the future, we’ll face them together. I don’t want to hide away any more either. I want to be your wife.’ She swayed forward into his arms. ‘I love you, too, Arthur Amberton. I always have.’

* * *

‘No veils.’ Frances stood in the middle of her bedroom floor, hands on her hips.

‘But it’s traditional, dear. Brides wear veils, even ones who only give their family a few days to prepare.’ Her mother sounded faintly recriminatory. ‘Now do be careful where you put your arms. You’ll crush the silk.’

‘It’s no good arguing, Mama.’ Lydia perched on a window seat, swinging her legs in a distinctly girlish fashion. ‘You know she never backs down.’

‘Well, I don’t know how I ended up with two such stubborn daughters. It’s bad enough you deciding to wear black again just when we said you could go into half-mourning, but now this.’

‘I’m wearing black for John out of respect. Since I haven’t been particularly respectful this past year, I’m making up for it now. We might not have been the greatest love story, but he was my husband and he deserved better from me. Anyway, it’s not as if I’m going into seclusion again. If I’ve learnt anything from all this, it’s that we should all live our lives while we have the chance.’

‘Yes, but couldn’t you just for today...?’

‘And as for my wearing a veil,’ Frances interjected. ‘Arthur wouldn’t like it. He says that he never wants to see me covering my scar up again, so I can’t very well do it on our wedding day.’

‘Oh, very well.’ Their mother threw her arms up in defeat. ‘When you put it like that, I suppose not, but at least let me tie some white ribbon in your hair.’

‘You can do whatever you like with my hair, Mama.’

‘Well, I think you look perfect already.’ Lydia jumped down from the window and kissed her sister’s cheek. ‘I hope Arthur knows how lucky he is.’

Frances looked into the floor-length mirror and smiled at her own reflection. Her scar was still there, of course, but it wasn’t the first thing her eyes went to any more. It wasn’t all she saw either. Instead, she saw a happy, excited-looking woman on the morning of her wedding day.

‘You’re sure you don’t mind?’ She caught her sister’s eye in the mirror.

‘Not even the teeniest bit. Why would I, when I have my own ge

ntleman escort?’ Lydia gestured towards Georgie, playing on the floor with a toy train, and Frances smiled affectionately.

‘And such a handsome one, too. Although I hope you’ll meet someone else one day.’

‘One day perhaps.’ Lydia lifted her shoulders and then dropped them again nonchalantly. ‘But I’m in no rush. I have nothing to prove any more and I’m determined that I won’t be anyone’s trophy ever again. If I do meet someone then I want him to like me for me, whoever she is.’

‘She’s my sister...’ Frances squeezed her hand warmly ‘...and I love her.’

‘Oh, do stop it.’ Their mother was dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief. ‘You’ll make me blotchy and swollen even before the ceremony.’

‘Well, we can’t have that.’ Lydia skipped across the room to give their mother a swift hug. ‘Now forget about those ribbons. I have a much better idea.’

Arthur paced nervously up and down the pavement outside the church, fiddling with his cravat and lifting his head at every stray noise.