The Convenient Felstone Marriage (Whitby Weddings 1)

She took his arm again, trying to lighten the mood as they headed towards the eighty-foot lighthouse at the far end of the pier. ‘Why stay here, then? If what people say bothers you, why not start again somewhere else?’

‘Because I’m not ashamed of my mother. If I left it would be like admitting everyone was right about her. And because the truth has a way of catching up with people. When I was a boy we were always moving, running from town to town, trying to escape the rumours. They always found us. Eventually my mother got tired of running. She was from Whitby and wanted to come back. Once we arrived, she told me she’d never run away again, no matter what.’ Pale eyes flashed defiantly. ‘I won’t run away either, Ianthe, but I will prove everyone wrong. They said I wouldn’t amount to anything and I have. They said I’d never be respectable...’

‘So you married me.’

She stared out to sea, clasping the metal railings that ran along the edge of the pier for support. The truth has a way of catching up with people. But that wasn’t always true...was it?

‘Besides...’ he leaned over the railing beside her, looking out to where Matthew was playing on the sand ‘...this is my home. I wouldn’t want to live anywhere else.’

‘I can see why. It’s beautiful.’

‘Even more so at sunset. You know the harbour mouth faces north. This is one of the few places in England where you can see the sun rise and set directly over the sea.’

‘I’d like to see that. It seems to have been raining ever since I got here.’

‘The sun’s shining now.’

‘Yes.’ She smiled wistfully. ‘Maybe tonight then.’

He looked at her seriously. ‘Not feeling homesick, then?’

‘No.’ She felt oddly touched by the question. ‘I don’t have a home in London any more. It was never the same after my parents died and at least here I’m close to my aunt.’

‘You should invite her to stay.’

‘Aunt Sophoria?’ She tilted her head in surprise.

‘Why not?’

‘Because...’ She hesitated, wondering how to be tactful. ‘She’s a little eccentric.’

‘So I’ve noticed.’ A black eyebrow quirked upwards ironically. ‘I might not want her to dress you again, Ianthe, but I enjoy her company.’

She felt the corners of her mouth twitch before bursting into a peal of laughter. ‘I did look ridiculous that first morning, didn’t I?’

‘And yet I still proposed.’ He laughed too. ‘Speaking of clothes, didn’t you buy any new gowns? I see that you’re still wearing grey.’

‘I thought you liked me in grey.’ She glanced down self-consciously.

‘You can wear whatever colour you like, but it would make me happy to buy you a few new dresses. Perhaps something a bit cooler for the summer.’

‘But I thought this was...’

‘If you say respectable one more time, I’ll throw that cloak into the harbour myself.’

‘All right.’ She put her hands on her hips. ‘Then I thought you wanted me to dress a certain way?’

‘I do, but I’d prefer you not to collapse from heatstroke while doing it. I don’t think respectable means wearing wool on a hot day.’ He looked at her indignant stance and grinned. ‘Half an hour at the harbour and she turns into a fishwife. Here.’

He caught hold of the corners of her cloak suddenly, tugging her towards him as he unwrapped it gently from around her shoulders.

‘How’s that?’

‘Better,’ she admitted, voice quavering slightly. When he’d pulled her towards him, she’d had the brief, startling impression that he’d been about to kiss her again. ‘But what if one of your acquaintances sees me?’

‘You’re wearing a morning gown, Ianthe, not a petticoat.’ He tugged at the bow beneath her chin, letting the ribbon unravel before lifting her bonnet carefully away from her head.

‘Besides...’ he leant down, bringing his lips close to her ear ‘...if I see anyone coming, I can always stand in front of you.’