‘So...’ Ianthe twirled around in the doorway. ‘What do you think?’
‘You look fine.’ Robert barely glanced up from the game of chess he was playing with Matthew.
‘’S all right.’ His ward sounded even less impressed.
Ianthe gave an underwhelmed sigh. Fine and all right weren’t quite the responses she’d been hoping for. Given that Robert had helped to choose her new wardrobe, she’d expected him to be slightly more enthusiastic about the results. The gown she’d selected for their visit to Mr Harper was, in her opinion, both beautiful and respectable, a pale cerulean blue with a high-buttoned neck, long sleeves and medium-sized skirts that extended backwards in the new fashion.
‘I thought we were going to learn about Romans today.’ Matthew pouted.
‘We still will. Your guardian and I just need to make a call first.’
She smiled, secretly pleased by his petulant expression. Since their trip to the harbour, he’d become a whole different boy, positively eager for her time and attention. In striking contrast to his guardian. The atmosphere between them had been strained ever since.
So far Robert hadn’t said anything directly about her behaviour at the harbour, though she’d caught him watching her occasionally with a speculative expression, as if trying to work something out. Even during their trip to the dressmaker’s, she’d had the uneasy feeling that she’d been under surveillance. She’d done her best to avoid being alone with him, trying to avoid questions, not that she could have given him any answers anyway. The sudden, vivid sensation of panic when he’d suggested that she stay at the harbour had surprised even her. In that moment, even his presence by her side hadn’t helped. All she’d wanted was to get back to the house as quickly as possible.
Once there, she’d pleaded a headache and retreated to her room, aware of how bizarre her behaviour must seem, but unable to do anything about it. Ever since, she’d done her best not to give him any further cause for suspicion, though she still hadn’t been able to bring herself to go outside.
‘Will you be long?’
‘A couple of hours, maybe.’ Robert answered for them. ‘Now run along. We’ll finish the game later.’
He stood up, adopting a stern expression as Matthew bolted away to the kitchens. ‘You don’t have to make up for his lesson later. You can have a day off when you want one.’
‘I know, but I enjoy teaching him. He seems to like history.’
‘The kind with blood and battles, I presume?’
‘Ye-es. But I think he’s coming along.’ She pulled on her bonnet, arranging the veil neatly. ‘Ready?’
He gave her an intense look and she forced herself to smile, resting a hand on his arm and trying not to grip too tightly as they walked down the front steps and on to the street.
‘I thought that we’d walk.’ He sounded suspiciously nonchalant. ‘It’s not far and the weather’s fine.’
She gave a murmur of assent, not trusting herself to speak as they walked along a succession of side streets, keeping her head up and trying to concentrate on the loveliness of her surroundings and not the sudden feeling of exposure. Truly, it was a beautiful town, the Georgian architecture perfectly in keeping with the cliff face below, as if the town itself had somehow grown out of the rock.
She liked it here, she reminded herself. This was her new home. She was safe. And Robert was right beside her. Surely no one would hurt her when he was there.
‘Here we are.’ They were at Harper’s in a matter of minutes.
‘Here?’ She gulped, shuddering at the sight of at least twenty gargoyles peering down at them from the red-stone turrets and crenellations of a large Gothic villa.
‘It suits its owner, I’m afraid.’ Robert pressed her hand reassuringly. ‘But don’t worry. This is just a formality. The last piece of the puzzle, that’s all.’
‘The last piece...’ she murmured, adopting her most respectable demeanour. ‘All right, I’m ready.’
‘There’s no need to scowl.’
‘I didn’t know I was.’ She felt vaguely offended. ‘I’m just trying to do what you want.’
‘Just be yourself.’
Herself? She lifted her eyebrows incredulously. That wasn’t what they’d agreed. They’d agreed that she be sensible and respectable. He’d never said anything about being herself before. Though of course, she realised with a sinking feeling, that was who he thought she really was...
And it was who she was! She gave a start, alarmed to have drifted so far from the new, respectable Ianthe. Ever since their walk on the pier and that moment when she’d allowed her old self to escape for a few moments, she’d found it harder and harder to put her back in her cage. Now she felt as if her old and new identities were at war with each other, each struggling for dominance. She wasn’t sure who she was any more, but she knew who she was supposed to be.
She straightened her shoulders, pursing her lips as she put the respectable mask back on again. Now she wished that she’d worn one of her old grey dresses instead. They would have reminded her how the new Ianthe ought to behave...
A maid opened the door, and she felt her stomach lurch as they stepped inside. The gloomy interior seemed the perfect accompaniment to her anxiety. This was it, the real test, the whole reason that Robert had married her. She felt sick.
‘Mrs Felstone?’ A young woman with white-blonde hair emerged from a side door almost at once, smiling a welcome. ‘I’m so pleased to meet you finally. I’m Violet Harper.’
‘Miss Harper.’ Ianthe held out a hand, starting to relax slightly. The woman was unusually small, almost tiny, with striking blue eyes that gave her an almost waif-like appearance, but she seemed friendly. ‘Please call me Ianthe.’
‘What a beautiful name.’ The woman’s voice was soft and breathless-sounding. ‘It’s from a poem by Shelley, isn’t it? Did your parents admire the Romantics?’
‘Why, yes.’ She smiled appreciatively. ‘Do you like poetry, too?’
‘I adore it.’ Violet threw a surreptitious glance over her shoulder. ‘Father says it’s all foolishness, but I just love the Romantics, especially Byron.’
‘Have you read Don Juan?’ Ianthe bit her tongue instantly. That was definitely the old her talking. A truly respectable woman wouldn’t talk about anything so frivolous as poetry, especially not Byron or Don Juan, and absolutely not with young, unmarried daughters. Fortunately Violet didn’t seem to find anything untoward about it.
‘I’m afraid not.’ Violet sighed wistfully. ‘Father likes to check everything I read and there are some subjects he doesn’t approve of. He only allowed Byron at first because he was a baron.’
‘Oh.’ Ianthe struggled to keep a straight face. ‘You know they call him the wicked lord.’
‘I know.’ Violet giggled. ‘Father was quite upset when he found out. But to have lived as much as Byron did, to have seen Italy and Greece...’ She sighed again. ‘How I’d love to visit them. But you’re from London, Mr Felstone tells us. I’d like to go there, too.’
‘You haven’t been?’
‘I haven’t been anywhere.’ Violet looked almost apologetic. ‘Except in my imagination, of course. Father worries about me. It’s partly due to my size, I think.’ She gave a self-deprecating smile. ‘He’s afraid I might get stepped on. But it would be nice to see a little of the world outside Whitby for a change.’
‘Then perhaps we’ll make a trip one day.’
‘Truly?’ Violet clasped her hand with a look of sheer delight. ‘Oh, I should love to. Father doesn’t approve of many women, but I feel sure he’ll like you. It would be so nice to have a friend of my own age to talk to.’
‘I’d like that, too.’ Ianthe felt her spirits lift. If the father were anything at all like his daughter then Robert was worrying unnecessarily. Violet already felt like a kindred spirit.
‘Then I’m so glad we’ve met.’ The other woman blushed suddenly. ‘But you must forgive me for talking so much. I know you’re here to see my father. Please do come this way.’
She led them into a dark, oak-panelled parlour hung with a series of increasingly severe-looking portraits, before gesturing towards a large armchair set beside a blazing fireplace.
‘Mr and Mrs Felstone are here to see you, Papa.’
‘How do you do, Mr Harper?’ Ianthe took a step forward, bowing her head modestly.
‘So he’s brought you to see me at last then, has he?’
She looked up into a pair of unblinking, cold eyes, regarding her dispassionately from the depths of the armchair. ‘I’m glad to be here, Mr Harper.’
‘Take a seat, then.’
‘Thank you.’ She sat down opposite, perching on the edge of a particularly uncomfortable-looking chair as Violet moved to stand beside him. ‘You have a very interesting house, sir.’
‘Do I?’ The old man’s brows twitched in what might have been a frown, though his face was so craggy it was impossible to tell. The furrows were so deeply set it was impossible to imagine him ever smiling.
‘Yes, it’s ve—’
‘What do you want from me, madam?’
She blinked at the interruption. ‘Nothing from you, sir. I simply wanted to meet you and your daughter. I’ve no acquaintances in Whitby and my husband’s told me so much about you.’
‘About my shipyard, you mean?’ The old man gave a snort of derision. ‘You’re here to persuade me to sell up, I suppose?’
‘Not at all. It’s yours to do with as you wish.’
‘I’m glad to hear it. I make up my own mind, don’t I, Violet?’
‘Yes, Fa—’
‘Are you a sensible woman?’ He didn’t wait for his daughter to finish. ‘This one fills her head with stories and other such nonsense. I hope you’re not so foolish.’
Ianthe pursed her lips, torn between the impulse to take Violet’s side and the need to impress her father. ‘I have a high regard for education, sir.’
‘For women, too?’
She faltered, glancing at Robert for support. He was standing a small distance away, looking out of the window as if he weren’t part of the conversation at all. How was she supposed to answer such a question? He might offer her some clue... Did he expect her to betray her real opinions and lie?
‘I believe that everyone has the right to an education, sir.’ She tried to keep her tone as respectful as possible.
‘Ha! Now you do sound like my daughter. She wants to start a school for the children who work in my yard.’
‘But that sounds like an excellent idea!’
‘Not a proper school,’ Violet explained hastily. ‘Just a room where they can come for an hour every day to learn how to read and write.’
‘Don’t let Felstone hear you say so!’ Harper gave a rasping laugh. ‘If he buys the yard those are his workers you’ll be taking away from their duties.’
‘Oh...I’m sorry, Mr Felstone.’ Violet seemed to diminish visibly.
‘Not at all, Miss Harper.’ Robert turned towards them at last, though his expression was unreadable. ‘It sounds like a laudable idea.’
‘Laudable?’ Harper barked. ‘So you wouldn’t mind losing a third of your workforce every day?’
‘I’d mind very much, but there are ways that it could be done. I’ve no objection in principle.’
‘No, I suppose you wouldn’t.’
Ianthe bristled indignantly, answering back without thinking. ‘I think that my husband’s done very well to achieve what he has without a formal education.’
‘Indeed he has.’ Harper regarded her sternly. ‘Though there are some things a man can’t learn by himself. Birth and breeding will out, Mrs Felstone.’
‘Of course.’ She swallowed a further retort. ‘And believe me, Mr Harper, I know how much my husband values good breeding. He was very keen to impress that upon me when we first met.’
‘Mmm.’ Harper looked slightly mollified. ‘And of course, marriage is a reforming influence. Just as long as it’s to the right woman. Who were your parents?’
‘My mother was a gentleman’s daughter from Pickering and my father was a gentleman himself.’ She had a feeling that describing him as an artist wasn’t going to raise the old man’s opinion. ‘Though he painted a little, too.’
‘Indeed? I thought he must have been in business. How else did you two meet?’
‘How?’ She baulked at the question. Robert had mentioned something about saying they’d had a long-distance courtship, though she hadn’t thought to discuss the details. Now she wasn’t sure what to say, but she had to say something!
‘We met through my brother,’ she ventured at last. ‘I lived with him after my parents died. He works as a clerk in an insurance company and, as you know, my husband does a great deal of business in London.’
There. She felt a rush of satisfaction. That was true, sort of. They had met through Percy, even if not in the way she implied.
‘You’re an orphan, then?’ The old man reached out a hand suddenly, grasping his daughter’s in a surprisingly firm-looking grip. ‘My Violet lost her mother when she was born. That’s why there’s only the two of us. Now she takes care of me.’
Ianthe smiled politely, feeling a spontaneous rush of sympathy for the other woman. Somehow she doubted that Violet had ever been given a choice about that.
‘Very well then, Mrs Felstone.’ Mr Harper gave an approving nod. ‘You may stay for tea. See to it, Violet.’
* * *
‘I know how much my husband values good breeding?’ Robert grabbed Ianthe’s waist, swinging her up and around in a circle the moment they were out of sight of the house. ‘It was all I could do to keep a straight face.’
‘Really?’ Ianthe looked surprised. ‘I’d never have known. I wasn’t even sure you were listening.’
‘Do you blame me?’ He lowered her back down to the ground, marvelling at how light she felt in his arms. ‘If I hadn’t kept out of it then I might have told him what I really thought of his breeding.’
‘So I was respectable enough for you?’
‘Above and beyond. You’re full of surprises, Mrs Felstone.’ He let go of her reluctantly, moving away as a man in a strangely familiar brown jacket rounded the corner of the street. ‘Now shall we take a walk down to the shore? I’d like to blow the cobwebs away. That house always makes me think of a graveyard.’
‘All right.’ She peeped up at him from under her lashes, her doe eyes alarmingly enticing. ‘As long as you don’t tell Matthew. He’ll be furious if he finds out we’ve been to the beach without him.’
‘That boy’s starting to behave like your lapdog.’
She laughed gleefully as they made their way towards the promenade. ‘He even wants to be walked. He’s always trying to persuade me to hold our lessons outside.’
‘And have you?’
‘Not yet.’
He threw a quick glance towards her, trying to keep his tone casual as he tested a theory. ‘I’ve heard that some people are scared of the sea.’
‘I’m not.’ Her expression became wary at once.
‘Good. Though if there was something that did frighten you, I hope that you’d tell me. I might be able to help.’
She looked pensive, pursing her lips in that familiar way of hers as they started down the winding path that led to the west beach. ‘I’m not sure I can explain it. It’s not something I understand myself. Sometimes I just...panic.’
‘Have you always done so?’
‘No.’ She spoke hesitantly, as if choosing her words with care. ‘Something happened a little while ago. Something that upset me. It’s over and done with, but I haven’t wanted to go outside ever since. All the space...it just feels overwhelming.’
‘Do you feel overwhelmed now?’
‘No.’ She shook her head. ‘Now I feel normal.’
He clenched his jaw, head whirling with possibilities. ‘The thing that happened...was it on the day after the ball?’
She was silent long enough to confirm it.
‘And was that what convinced you to marry me?’
‘Yes.’ Her voice sounded small and unsteady.
‘Will you tell me what happened?’
‘No.’
‘Were you hurt?’
‘No.’
He let out a breath of relief. ‘Then will you tell me if there’s anything I can do about it?’
‘Yes, but it won’t happen again.’ She glanced towards him nervously. ‘Does it bother you?’
‘It bothers me that something happened and that you’re still scared because of it. But I’m glad that you told me.’ They reached the deserted sea wall, and he jumped down, reaching his hands up to help her. ‘Here.’
‘I can’t go down there.’ She gestured at her new dress. ‘I’ll get all sandy.’
‘We’re done being respectable today, Ianthe.’
‘We’re done?’
‘Yes.’ He grinned, trying to put her at ease again. ‘There’s only so much a man without breeding can take.’
She gave him an arch look as she put her hands on his shoulders and jumped.
‘There.’ He kept his hands on her waist, holding her tight in the circle of his arms. ‘Now it’s your turn.’
‘To do what?’
‘To ask me a question. I know that telling me that can’t have been easy for you, Ianthe. It only seems fair that you get to ask me something in return.’
‘No.’
‘No?’
‘We’re having a pleasant afternoon.’ She pulled away from him gently. ‘I don’t want to spoil it.’
‘Am I that moody?’ He felt mildly aggrieved. ‘What if I promise that it won’t?’
‘No.’ She tilted her chin up stubbornly. ‘I don’t want to pry. Why don’t you just tell me something I don’t know?’
‘All right.’ He wandered down towards the water’s edge. ‘Most people want to know about my father.’ He bent down and picked up a stone, turning it over in his hand. ‘You know who he was?’
‘Yes, my aunt told me.’
‘Ah. I always knew who he was. Even as a boy, I was used to the gossip, but my mother never spoke of him, not once in twenty-one years.’
‘Didn’t you ever ask her about him?’
‘No. I thought the stories about my father upset her. Whenever she spoke of the past she looked so unhappy. I didn’t want to make her look like that so I never asked.’ He flung his hand back and then quickly forward again, flicking the stone across the water, watching as it bounced five, six, seven times. ‘Then after she died I got a letter from him saying he wanted to meet. I thought that perhaps he cared for me after all, that he’d been watching and waiting all those years, keeping away out of respect for her. I thought that I must have proved myself—that he wanted to acknowledge me.’
He stooped to pick up another stone and then changed his mind, sitting down on the sand instead. Why was he telling her all this—bringing up the pain of the past as if it would change anything? And yet, oddly enough, it did change things. Even if he didn’t feel better, he felt strangely relieved. After only a few days in her company, he’d told her more than he’d ever told anyone else, as if he’d known her for years.
He turned in surprise as she sat down beside him.
‘What about your dress?’
‘It’s just a bit of sand.’
‘People will wonder what we’ve been doing.’
He gave a sly smile, but she ignored the comment. ‘Will you tell me what happened with your father?’
‘I thought you weren’t going to ask any questions?’
‘I changed my mind.’
He shook his head ruefully. ‘It’s a common enough story. You can probably guess the rest. He wanted money.’
‘Money?’ She gave an audible gasp.
‘He was a gambler and he had debts. He thought it might be convenient to have a businessman in the family. He thought that I’d pay just for the honour of calling him my father.’
‘Did you?’
‘I gave him a choice between me or the money. Guess which he chose.’
‘Oh, Robert.’ She let out a soft sigh. ‘I’m so sorry.’
‘So am I. A year later he contacted me again, though this time he didn’t bother with the pretence of a reconciliation. I tore his letter up.’
‘I don’t blame you.’
‘I do. If it had been a business decision then I could have lived with it, but it wasn’t. I made the decision in anger. He died a few months later.’
‘I still don’t blame you.’ She sounded defiant, and he leaned back on his elbows to look at her.
‘Are you defending me?’
‘Yes. He treated you badly.’
‘I ought to be glad of it really. If he’d been clever enough to pretend then he could have had me and the money, but it probably never occurred to him that I might actually want him to care for me. I doubt he was capable of love. He only wanted a business arrangement.’ He winced at the irony. ‘I must get it from somewhere.’
Ianthe’s voice turned sombre. ‘If you really weren’t capable of love, then you wouldn’t have cared how he felt about you.’
‘Defending me again?’ He lifted an eyebrow sardonically. ‘Maybe it was just hurt pride.’
‘You loved your mother, didn’t you?’
‘I suppose so.’ He swallowed against the sudden lump in his throat. ‘But she wasn’t what you would call a warm-hearted woman. She tried her best, I think, but part of her always resented me for ruining her life. In her mind, if she hadn’t fallen pregnant then she’d never have lost her position, never been separated from my father.’ He clenched his jaw. ‘She loved him, you see. Worthless as he was, she loved him to the end.’
‘How do you know?’
‘Because she told me. When she was dying, she looked up at me and said the words. It was the only time in her life she ever told me she loved me and she thought I was him.’ He twisted towards her, unable to keep the anguish out of his eyes. ‘She wasted her life on a man who forgot her a long time before. I told you, I’ve seen what love does to people. Love is for artists and fools.’
‘You might be right.’
He blinked, surprised by the bitterness in her voice. ‘I thought you were close to your parents?’
‘I was, but they were artists. They raised me to believe in love, to expect everyone else to believe in it, too... It’s not like that in the real world.’
He frowned. It was one thing for him to be cynical. When she said something similar, he felt a strange urge to contradict her. Never mind that the wistful note in her voice made it sound as if she were speaking from experience. Had she had love affairs in the past, then? The very idea made his chest constrict with jealousy.
‘What’s the matter?’ She gave him a quizzical look.
‘Nothing.’ He stretched himself out in the sand, throwing one arm casually behind his head. ‘It just seems we’ve more in common than we first thought.’
‘What are you doing?’ She sounded scandalised.
‘Lying down.’
‘Well, you shouldn’t. What will people say if they see you?’
‘They’ll say they always knew I wasn’t a gentleman.’
‘I’m serious!’
‘So am I. Lying on a beach in broad daylight next to my own wife. Tsk-tsk. It’s just the kind of reprehensible behaviour they would expect.’
‘I don’t understand you.’ She sounded exasperated.
‘What don’t you understand?’
He raised a hand, shielding his eyes from the sun to study her. She was shaking her head reprovingly, though the twinkle in her eyes gave her away.
‘I can’t decide if you really care about what people think of you or not.’
‘Sometimes I do. Other times I want to tell everyone to mind their own damned business.’
‘Then make up your mind.’ She laughed and lay down on the sand beside him, propping her head up on her hand. ‘You can’t be a respectable gentleman and a rebel, so which is it? What do you really want?’
He moved so fast he hardly knew what he intended to do until he did it. Only the answer to her question was so clearly, blindingly obvious that he wasn’t able to stop himself, seizing her lips with a fervour that took them both by surprise.
For a moment, he kept completely still, waiting for her to push him away, but she didn’t. Instead, she gave a low murmur, opening her mouth slightly so he could taste the sweet tang of her lips. Slowly, he smoothed a hand over her waist, gathering her towards him as she put a hand on his chest to steady herself. Then there was nothing else, no other sight or sound, just the feeling of her in his arms and the warm, silky smoothness of her mouth against his.
He didn’t know how long he held her, only that she was the first to break the embrace. She pulled away with a gasp, glancing around nervously as if to make sure no one had seen them.
‘Robert...’ she sounded out of breath ‘...our agreement...’
The agreement. His blood cooled instantly at the reminder. For an intoxicating moment, he’d forgotten all about it—had thought she had, too. Apparently not. But after everything he’d just told her about his past, he didn’t feel up to discussing their arrangement just then. He certainly didn’t know how to explain what had just happened.
‘I’d like to swim.’
‘What?’
‘You asked me what I wanted. I want to swim.’
‘Now?’
He looked out to sea, trying to distract himself so that he wasn’t tempted to haul her back into his arms, agreement or not. They felt altogether too empty without her.
‘When I was a boy, I swam here all the time. Nobody cared. Then I got older, took on more responsibilities, became Robert Felstone Esquire, and people expected me to behave a certain way. But I still want to swim.’
She sat up, brushing the sand off her skirts. ‘I’d like to learn one day.’
He looked at her incredulously. ‘You can’t swim?’
‘I’ve never tried.’
‘You can’t live by the sea and not swim. It’s dangerous.’
‘Why?’ She sounded defensive. ‘It’s not as though I’m going to jump in.’
‘That’s not the point. I’m not taking you to the shipyard until you learn.’
‘But you promised!’
‘I didn’t know you’d be a liability.’
‘Then I wish I hadn’t told you.’ She scowled down at him. ‘Are you saying that everyone who works for you can swim?’
‘I make certain of it. Safety’s important.’
‘Oh.’ She was quiet for a moment. ‘So how would you go about teaching me?’
‘You can rent bathing huts further down the beach.’
‘It’s autumn!’
‘It’s the warmest October I can remember.’
‘Won’t people on the promenade be able to see?’
He shrugged. ‘A horse pulls the hut out into the water, but it’s perfectly respectable, I assure you. Ridiculous, but respectable.’
‘All right.’ She sounded circumspect. ‘I’ll let you teach me to swim, but only on one condition.’
‘Which is...?’
‘You have to recite a poem.’
‘What?’
‘Find one you like and recite it to Matthew.’
‘I thought we just agreed that poetry was for fools?’
‘No. We agreed that poetry wasn’t real life. It’s not poetry’s fault that people let it down.’
‘So you want me to learn a poem because...?’
‘Because Matthew looks up to you. If he hears you recite one, he might not be so closed-minded about it.’
Robert arched an eyebrow. ‘Is that your way of saying you think I’m closed-minded?’
She didn’t answer. ‘You might enjoy it.’
‘So you want another agreement...’ He took a deep breath, already regretting his next words. ‘Shall we shake on this one?’
He held out a hand and she took it tentatively. ‘You have a deal, Mr Felstone.’
‘Good.’ He closed his fingers around hers. ‘We’ll start tomorrow.’