The Convenient Felstone Marriage (Whitby Weddings 1)

She threw him a scathing look and turned her face towards the sea, letting the air cool her cheeks. That was better, even if she felt more confused now than ever. He was the one who’d said he wanted her to be respectable and yet now he seemed to find the whole idea amusing, half-undressing her in broad daylight! He seemed a tangle of contradictions. A man who craved respectability and yet stayed in the one place he could never achieve it—who gave his name and a home to a boy he refused to acknowledge as his son! She couldn’t make sense of him at all, but at least the tension between them seemed to have passed. He seemed altogether mellower now, the way he’d been at the ball. She felt as though she were getting to know him again.

‘So...friends?’ His shoulder brushed against hers as he stood beside her.

She took a deep breath and exhaled. In his company, her fear of the outdoors seemed to have receded somewhat, at least for the moment. For the first time since the ball, she was aware of her old self again; that buried self she’d almost forgotten—happy, relaxed and carefree. That wasn’t the Ianthe Robert wanted, but she didn’t want him to push her away again, not just yet. She wanted to enjoy the view, the moment, the start of her new life...

She tilted her face up towards him, unable to hide a sudden burst of happiness.

‘Friends.’

>

* * *

Robert regarded his wife in amazement. He’d returned to Whitby that morning with a heavy heart, braced for another argument, and yet now arguing was the very last thing on his mind.

What was on his mind was something he ought not to think about, but it was impossible not to. The way she was looking at him—smiling as if she were genuinely happy—made him wish that theirs wasn’t such a straightforward business arrangement after all. The urge to kiss her was almost overpowering.

Clearly, he must be losing his senses along with his sanity, he decided. He’d just invited her aunt to visit and offered to take her shopping! If he wasn’t careful he’d be propositioning her next.

‘Which one is yours?’

‘Hmm?’ He cleared his throat huskily.

‘Which one is your shipyard?’ She leaned back against the railings, facing into the harbour. ‘Can we see it from here?’

‘No.’ He brought his face alongside hers, checking the angle. ‘See where the River Esk curves out of sight? It’s just around the bend, on the west bank next to the mudflats.’

‘Oh.’ Her voice sounded breathless suddenly. ‘How many yards are there altogether?’

‘Now? Only about a dozen, though there used to be a lot more. A hundred years ago, we were the second-biggest shipbuilding town in the country. Two of Captain Cook’s ships, the Endeavour and the Resolution, were built here. Back then we made twenty full-size ships a years. Now we’re lucky if we make half that number.’

‘What happened?’

‘London and Newcastle expanded, started building in iron, too. That’s what we need to do. In a few years, no one will be building wooden ships any more, but some of my colleagues don’t want to accept that.’

‘Including Mr Harper?’

‘He’s the worst of all. Deep down, he knows that if he doesn’t adapt then he’ll go bankrupt, but he refuses to admit it. He’s an old man, he’s not well and he doesn’t like change, but he can’t stand still any longer.’

‘Is he ailing?’

‘He’s been ailing for a few years, but I’m not taking advantage of a sick old man if that’s what you’re thinking. He’s a cantankerous, judgemental old bigot who’d rather run his business into the ground than sell to a low-born bastard like me.’ He made a face. ‘Excuse me, but the only reason he’s considering it is because of you.’

‘You must really want his yard.’

‘I do. The biggest and the best, remember?’ He smiled at the thought. ‘I’m offering him a better price than he deserves and easing his scruples about me into the bargain. He can’t ask for much more than that.’

‘So it all comes down to whether or not he approves of me?’

‘Essentially, yes. He was pleased to hear we were married. Now we just need to show him how eminently respectable you are.’

She dropped her gaze abruptly. ‘So what next? Should I call on him?’

‘I’ve already arranged it. We’re visiting him and his daughter next week.’

‘His daughter?’ Her eyes flew back to his. ‘You never said he had a daughter.’

‘I didn’t think it mattered. Her name’s Violet.’