The Viscount's Veiled Lady (Whitby Weddings 3)

‘Arthur?’ Mercifully, Frances’s head appeared around the doorway again after only a few minutes. ‘You can come in now.’

He moved gingerly towards the room, taking minute steps to avoid tripping, feeling slightly awkward and out of place. Violet was sitting upright in bed, Lance at her side, looking like an even tinier shadow of her former self, with sunken, shadowy eyes and hair that looked as if it had been pasted to her head. He didn’t think he’d ever seen a person look more exhausted and yet her smile was breathtaking as she gazed down at the babe in her arms.

‘I never pegged you for a nursemaid.’ Lance stood up to greet him. He looked almost as bad as Violet, as if he’d aged ten years in one night, but his smile was just as wide.

‘Neither did I.’ Arthur passed him his daughter. ‘This one’s a troublemaker.’

‘Just like her father.’ Violet tore her eyes away from her son to smile at first him and then Frances. ‘Thank you, both of you. I’ll never forget it.’

‘We’re just glad you’re all right.’ Frances leaned over and pressed a kiss to Violet’s cheek. ‘But now you need to rest.’

‘So do you.’

‘Soon.’

‘Now. You’ve done more than enough. I’m sure Mrs Gargrave’s already on her way to take charge again now the messy part’s over.’ Violet smiled sleepily. ‘Arthur, take Frances and look after her.’

They were the words he’d been waiting for. ‘You heard the woman, Frances. Come on.’

He took hold of her arm, leading her silently out of the room and down a floor to the guest quarters. The location of her bedroom was made obvious by the candle left flickering on a chest outside, though he waited until they were standing next to the door before grasping her shoulders and looking deep into her eyes.

‘Are you all right?’

‘Yes.’ She swallowed. ‘At least, I am now. An hour ago... I was so frightened, Arthur.’

‘I know. So was I.’

‘You were?’ Her eyes widened. ‘But you seemed so calm.’

‘As did you.’ He couldn’t resist any longer, enveloping her in his arms. ‘You were magnificent.’

‘We must both be good actors then.’ She made a sound that was half-sob, half-laugh and then pulled her head back, lifting her hands and wiping the palms over her cheeks. ‘The doctor said it was a difficult birth, one of the worst he’s ever seen. He doesn’t think she’ll be able to have any more children.’

‘Thank goodness. Lance will be relieved.’

‘Your poor brother was beside himself. He was trying not to show it, but you could see the fear in his eyes... He really does love her, doesn’t he?’

‘More than anyone else in the world.’

‘It must be wonderful to be loved so much.’ Her face took on a dreamy expression. ‘It’s what marriage ought to be, isn’t it?’

‘I suppose so. That and supporting and respecting and—’ his tongue almost tripped over the words ‘—being honest with each other. Those things are important, too. Here.’ He reached for the door handle, afraid that the conversation was getting out of his depth after such a long night, and led her into the bedroom Mrs Gargrave had prepared.

‘Oh.’ She took one look at the four-poster bed and exclaimed in delight. ‘That looks wonderful. I think I could sleep for a week.’

‘Then you’re welcome to. I think Lance and Violet would be more than happy for you to stay. They’d probably let you move in if you wanted.’ He picked up a poker and stirred the coals in the hearth. ‘Now, are you hungry? You ought to have something.’

‘No.’ She sat down on the side of the bed and shook her head. ‘I’m too tired to eat, but I’d love a cup of tea.’

‘Good. I’ll be back in a few minutes. Don’t fall asleep in the meantime.’

He gave her a warning look and then hurried down to the kitchen himself. Most of the staff were still awake, sitting around a large wooden table and toasting the arrival of the new babies with a bottle of champagne.

‘Lord Scorborough!’ One of the maids leapt up at the sight of him. ‘The master told us to celebrate. He sent the bottle.’

‘I’m sure he did.’ Arthur chuckled. ‘Best drink up, then.’

‘Can I help you with anything, sir?’