The Viscount's Veiled Lady (Whitby Weddings 3)

‘I hope not. In any case, I’m grateful.’

‘Lord Scorborough?’ the doctor interrupted them, lowering his voice discreetly. He’d packed his bag as if he were ready to depart, only there was a sombre look on his face that suggested some unfinished business. ‘Might I have a word?’

‘With me?’ Arthur exchanged a surprised look with Lance before following him out into the corridor. ‘Of course. Is something the matter?’

‘I’m afraid... That is to say, yes. I was surprised to see Miss Webster still here this morning.’

‘Indeed?’ Arthur raised his chin, giving the doctor a look that he hoped told him to mind his own business. Surely he hadn’t just drawn him aside to deliver an etiquette lesson? ‘We are engaged, sir, and my brother and sister-in-law were both under the same roof. Not to mention that these are somewhat exceptional circumstances.’

‘What?’ The doctor looked faintly irritated. ‘Oh, no, I wasn’t talking about that. Only I take it that Miss Webster hasn’t received any messages from Whitby this morning?’

‘No. Why?’

‘As I thought.’ The doctor made a harrumphing sound. ‘I wouldn’t usually share information like this, but since you’re engaged, you should know that I met my colleague, Dr Muggridge, on my way here this morning. It seems that he had a long night, too, only at the Websters’ house. Apparently their eldest daughter was involved in some kind of riding accident yesterday afternoon.’

‘Lydia Baird?’

‘Yes. I understand that it’s quite serious. No broken bones, fortunately, but she had a severe knock on the head. From what I gather, she hasn’t regained consciousness.’ He paused significantly. ‘Somebody ought to inform Miss Webster.’

‘Of course...’ Arthur frowned, already wondering what to say. ‘I’ll take her back to her parents’ house at once.’

‘Good.’ The doctor nodded, as if he considered his duty discharged. ‘In that case, I’ll be on my way, too. I believe everything here is as it should be.’ He glanced back into the room and shook his head. ‘Sometimes my patients amaze even me.’

‘Yes. Thank you, Doctor.’

Arthur walked slowly back into the bedchamber. Frances was holding one of the babies, rocking him or her gently back and forth in her arms with a smile that faded the moment she saw his face.

‘Arthur?’

‘We should be getting you home.’ He tried to muster an encouraging expression.

‘Oh, but you must come back soon.’ Violet beamed as Frances handed the baby back to her. ‘And thank you again. I don’t know how I would have coped without you.’

‘You’re more than welcome—’ Frances gave her a look that made his chest ache ‘—and I’ll be back very soon. I have to keep an eye on my little namesake, after all.’

They made their way downstairs in silence, Arthur keeping a few steps ahead so that she couldn’t see his expression. He could feel her curious glances, but he still had no idea what to say. Anything apart from the truth would feel like a lie, but he dared not tell her the truth just yet. He didn’t want to panic her into making a mad dash across the Moors. He had to get her back to Whitby first and then tell her what had happened—why their wedding would have to be postponed...

‘I’ll fetch the horses.’

He left her in the hallway, still avoiding her eyes, and hurried off to the stables, returning a few minutes later to find her already waiting on the doorstep, bundled up in her coat and bonnet, looking out into the distance.

‘Red sky.’ She pointed eastwards. ‘I suppose that means there’s another storm coming.’

‘Probably...’ he helped her up into the saddle ‘...but we’ll get you back home before it hits.’

‘Arthur?’ She reached an arm out as he mounted his own horse. ‘Is everything all right?’

‘Why do you ask?’ He picked up his reins, pretending not to notice her outstretched hand.

‘You just seem different. Is it about our wedding?’

‘No.’ He risked a glance towards her and regretted it instantly. The anxious look on her face tore at his heart strings. ‘I just don’t want your parents worrying about you, that’s all.’

He set a steady pace over the hilltops, stifling a feeling of guilt mixed with something else, the same discomforting emotion that seemed to have taken hold of him during his conversation with Lance that morning, undermining his earlier happiness. It was intangible but insistent, like an idea hovering at the edge of his consciousness that he didn’t want to confront, but couldn’t ignore either. What was it Lance had said? That he understood him better, that he’d been pushed to a similar level of desperation... But if that was what marriage entailed, then surely he of all people would do better to avoid it altogether. What if his relationship with Frances pushed him to the edge again somehow? He already loved her, there was no way back from that, but perhaps he could turn back before he loved her too much...

He berated himself for the thought, especially at such a time, slowing to a brisk trot as they joined the main road that led into the outskirts of Whitby, though the change of pace did nothing to ease the growing tension between them.

‘Frances...’ He couldn’t put off the news about Lydia any longer.