‘Welcome to your new home, Mrs Amberton.’ Lance caught Violet’s waist as she stepped down from the carriage and twirled her around in mid-air. ‘I hope this is a better welcome than I gave you the first or second times. Shall we say third time lucky?’
‘I hope so.’ She felt breathless as he set her back on her feet. ‘It’s been a strange day.’
‘It has, but it went well, I think.’
‘Yes.’
It really had, she thought with some residual amazement. With just Robert, Ianthe, Mr Rowlinson and Martin in attendance, their wedding had felt intimate, personal and unexpectedly moving. Lance had been uncharacteristically serious, too, reciting his vows with a depth of feeling that had taken her by surprise. When he’d dipped his head to kiss her at the end of the ceremony she’d almost imagined that it was all real and not simply a marriage of convenience. For one fleeting moment, it had felt real.
He captured her hand in his as they entered the hall. To her dismay, she felt even more nervous now walking beside him, just as she’d felt uncomfortably aware of his close proximity in the carriage on the journey back. Not that she ought to feel any more uncomfortable, she reminded herself. Nothing between them had changed, not really. They’d agreed that nothing about their relationship would be any different, not for seven years anyway, and yet despite that, something was. They were married. Somehow that made a big difference.
What had she done?
‘Captain Amberton. Mrs Amberton.’ Mrs Gargrave greeted them with a look that bordered on approval. ‘I’ll have some tea brought to the drawing room.’
‘That won’t be—’
‘Thank you, Mrs Gargrave.’ Violet cut short Lance’s refusal. ‘Tea would be perfect.’
‘It would?’ He held open the drawing-room door, murmuring in her ear as she brushed past.
‘Yes.’ She accelerated quickly, alarmed by the tingling sensation that raced through her body as his breath tickled her neck. ‘We had enough champagne with Ianthe and Robert.’
‘True, though I’m afraid it didn’t make any difference. Your best friend still hates me.’
‘She doesn’t hate you.’
‘She doesn’t like me.’
‘No-oo.’ She felt compelled to be honest. ‘But she doesn’t know you, not yet. She only knows stories about the old you. You seemed to get on well enough with Robert though.’
He made a non-committal sound and she stopped in the middle of the room, spinning around in surprise. ‘What’s wrong with Robert?’
‘Nothing, annoyingly. I’d like to detest the man, but I can’t.’
‘Why would you want to do that?’
‘For all the wrong reasons.’ Lance dropped into his armchair with a thud. ‘Because he’s intelligent and successful and has a wife who gazes at him adoringly.’
She blinked in surprise. ‘Do you want me to gaze at you adoringly?’
‘I could hardly expect that.’ He slouched further down in his chair and stared broodingly into the fire. ‘Only you don’t have to look at him in the same way, too.’
‘I do not! He’s Ianthe’s husband!’
‘Yes, and a paragon of male virtue. The man has no right to set such high standards.’
Violet took a seat on the sofa opposite, amused by his petulant tone. He sounded almost jealous, though surely he couldn’t be...could he?
‘I never thought of it before, but I suppose he does set a high standard...’ she feigned a wistful-sounding sigh ‘...and he’s very handsome.’
‘I hadn’t noticed.’
‘A talented businessman, too.’
‘As I said.’
‘Quite perfect really.’
‘In your opinion.’ Lance’s tone was distinctly annoyed.
‘Not really.’ She relented at last. ‘He’s perfect in a lot of ways and definitely for Ianthe, but I’ve never thought of him like that.’ She tilted her head thoughtfully. ‘I wonder why not.’
‘Never?’
‘No. Not even when he used to visit my father to discuss buying the shipyard.’
‘Visit?’ His gaze seemed to sharpen. ‘You never told me about that. Was it often?’
‘I suppose so. Once a week maybe.’
‘Was he kind to you?’
‘Very. More than he needed to be.’
‘I suppose you never thought he was mocking you?’
‘Never, but then he never chased me across the moors or locked me in a tower either. It makes him seem quite boring now.’
‘Really?’
Lance looked faintly pleased and she couldn’t resist smiling back.
‘I suppose I like adventure more than I thought. Oh, thank you, Mrs Gargrave.’ She looked up as the housekeeper reappeared with a tea tray. ‘I can manage from here.’
‘Of course, Mrs Amberton, but just so you know, your new rooms are both ready.’
‘Our what?’
Lance’s tone hardened abruptly and the housekeeper’s spine stiffened like a ramrod. ‘I presumed that you’d want to move back into the family quarters now that you’re married. I’ve prepared both your parents’ old rooms.’ She pursed her lips primly. ‘I wasn’t sure which you’d be using tonight.’
‘Neither! And you presumed wrongly.’
‘That was very thoughtful of you.’ Violet interjected again. ‘We appreciate your efforts, Mrs Gargrave.’
‘Very good, Mrs Amberton. I’ve already moved your belongings.’
‘Then you can damned well m—’
‘Thank you, Mrs Gargrave. That will be all for now.’
‘Damned woman!’ Lance burst out of his chair as the housekeeper closed the door behind her.
‘She was only trying to help.’
‘Help?’ He snatched up a glass from the sideboard and then remembered himself, putting it down again without filling it. ‘She’s been trying to make me move rooms ever since I got back. Typical of her to use today as an excuse!’
‘Ye-es.’ Violet chose her words with care. Uncomfortable as she was with the subject of their sleeping arrangements, the strength of his reaction surprised her. ‘But I suppose it might look suspicious for us to be sleeping at opposite ends of the house.’
His eyes flashed accusingly. ‘Are you on her side now?’
‘No, but those are the family rooms. Maybe we ought to be using them.’
‘We should be allowed to sleep wherever we want. It’s our house!’
Despite his temper, she felt a warm glow at the words. Our house. Somehow she’d always thought of herself as a guest even in her father’s house, somebody who was tolerated under sufferance, and yet Lance seemed more than willing to share his home. All except for the family quarters.
‘Why don’t you want to use those rooms?’ She remembered his tense reaction that first day when she’d suggested looking at the maze from Arthur’s window. It had seemed strange at the time.
‘They’re family rooms. I’m not part of a family any more.’ His voice sounded strained.
‘You mean it’s too upsetting?’
He gave a small nod and then sighed. ‘I mean I don’t have the courage to face it.’
‘Then maybe it’s time.’ She made the suggestion as gently as she could. ‘We’ll go together, if you like. You came with me to my father’s house today.’
She reached out a hand before she could think to stop herself, but to her surprise, he took it.
‘As I recall, it only ruined your morning.’
‘Not completely.’ She swallowed, trying to keep her mind on the subject. She’d never touched his hand without gloves before and his fingers felt warm and strong, sending a vivid tingling sensation up her arm and all through her body before it pooled in her stomach. ‘I won’t deny that it was difficult at the time, but it helped me, too. I’d like to repay the favour.’
‘Very well. Since I made you do it...’ He tightened his grip slightly, his eyes darkening as he stared across at her. ‘You do realise that Mrs Gargrave expects us to share a bed tonight?’
‘Yes.’ She dropped her gaze, struck with the uncomfortable impression that he could see straight into her mind. Their hands were still joined, his fingers interlaced with hers, making her skin feel red-hot suddenly.
‘Then again, I don’t suppose she’ll be peering in at the keyhole. Now there’s an unpleasant thought.’ He gave an exaggerated shudder. ‘All right, I’ll let her win this time. Back to the family rooms it is, but don’t get used to it. You won’t have time.’
‘What do you mean?’ Violet looked up again in alarm, but he was smiling.
‘It means that I thought you might enjoy a honeymoon.’
‘We’re going on honeymoon?’
‘No. You are. I’m afraid I have work to do, and besides, I thought you might enjoy it more with your friend Mrs Felstone. I spoke to her perfect husband about it after the wedding.’
‘Is that what the two of you had your heads pressed together about? It all looked very secretive.’
‘It was. I thought I’d have more success speaking with him than his wife. Somehow I doubted she’d appreciate the offer coming from me. I suggested Scotland for six weeks, but he refused to be parted from her for so long. We compromised on a month, providing she agrees, of course. The weather’s positively summery now.’
‘Scotland? But that’s wonderful!’ Violet tore her fingers away from his to clasp her hands together. It was wonderful, even if she felt torn between excitement and disappointment that he wasn’t the one going with her. ‘When do we leave?’
‘Tomorrow morning.’
‘So soon?’ Her stomach plummeted. Less than a day after their marriage... She couldn’t help but feel a little hurt. Clearly he had no feelings for her at all if he was happy to send her away so soon.
He leaned forward suddenly, capturing both of her hands this time, just as he’d done on the promenade earlier. ‘I know you’re eager for a taste of freedom, Violet. I know what that feels like, too. I would have sent you off today except that it might have raised some questions over the legitimacy of our marriage.’
‘Oh.’ She felt her cheeks redden at the insinuation. ‘Yes, of course.’
‘But after I’ve had my wicked way with you tonight, theoretically of course, you’re free to run away wherever and whenever you choose. I believe that those were the terms we agreed on. My only condition is that Martin accompanies you.’
‘Martin?’ She narrowed her eyes suspiciously. ‘To keep an eye on me?’
‘To make sure you don’t run away with any Highlanders, naturally, but for your own safety as well. He’s a useful man to have around.’
‘All right, if he wishes to come.’
‘Good.’ He gave her a smile that appeared to be completely genuine. ‘Then I hope you enjoy your freedom, Mrs Amberton. You deserve it.’
* * *
Half an hour later, Lance stood in the doorway of his father’s old chamber, without even the faintest hint of a smile on his face, wondering if time had reversed itself and it was actually five years before. Nothing about the room seemed to have changed at all.
‘Are you all right?’ Violet’s voice was soft at his side.
‘Yes.’ He forced himself to take a step over the threshold. ‘It’s just strange.’
‘If it’s too upsetting...’
‘No. As much as I hate to admit it when Mrs Gargrave’s right, it’s about time I moved in. It’s what my father would have wanted.’
‘But if it reminds you of him too much?’
‘It does, but that’s not what bothers me most.’ He ran a hand through his hair with a sigh. ‘It’s Arthur. This was supposed to be his room, the heir’s room. It was never meant to be mine. It feels wrong to be here.’
‘You didn’t take his place on purpose.’
‘No, but he was just so much better than me. In every way. He should have been the one who...’
‘Don’t!’ She put a hand on his arm. ‘Don’t say that. We’ve both ended up in places we didn’t expect, but we have to make the most of it.’
He frowned at the understatement. Did she feel as confused as he did, then? Did the place she’d found herself feel wrong? He didn’t like that idea. Then again, it had been an emotional day for both of them. The ceremony had been more of a sombre experience than he’d expected, but then he’d taken it seriously. He’d never intended to marry, let alone to marry for money like his father. The least he could do to compensate for that fact was to behave properly.
And he would make her happy. He’d made that resolve on the promenade after their visit to her father’s house. He’d do whatever he could do to make up for the unhappiness of her upbringing, to compensate for his own earlier behaviour towards her, too. Somehow that purpose seemed almost as important to him now as saving the estate.
The honeymoon he’d arranged was a start. It would give her the freedom she craved—although she hadn’t seemed as happy with his gift as he’d hoped she would be. Ironic when he’d been trying his best to be happy for her. The idea of her leaving so soon made him feel strangely bereft, but it was what she wanted.
‘Speaking of your place...’ He led her across to a door in the far corner. ‘Your bedchamber’s through here. It’s known as the blue room for obvious reasons...’ he frowned as he turned the handle ‘...though it’s not so easy to tell in the dark.’
He tensed as she leaned past him, holding her candle up to peer into the unlit chamber. Judging by the lack of a fire, or indeed any lighting at all, it seemed that Mrs Gargrave had her own definite ideas about where his new bride ought to spend her first night as a married woman. So much for both their rooms being ready. The next time his housekeeper offered him tea, he’d tell her exactly what she could do with it.
He turned back into his own room and looked around apprehensively, noticing the little touches he’d missed at first glance. There was a bottle of champagne and two glasses set out on a table—even a faint scent of perfume in the air if he wasn’t mistaken. That definitely hadn’t been there in his father’s day. There was even a nightdress laid out on the bed, damn it! He supposed he ought to be grateful that there weren’t rose petals sprinkled over the floor as well.
He cleared his throat, trying to sound matter-of-fact. ‘It appears that we’ll be sharing a bed tonight after all. For the sake of appearances,’ he added quickly.
‘Yes.’ She turned around slowly to face him, though her expression didn’t waver. Instead she looked very much as if she were trying not to have any expression at all. ‘For appearances.’
‘It won’t happen again. I’ll speak to Mrs Gargrave in the morning.’
‘It’s all right. It was a reasonable assumption for her to make.’
‘Violet, you know I had nothing to do with this?’ He felt a powerful urge to defend himself. After promising her that they’d sleep in separate rooms, he was uncomfortably aware that he appeared to be breaking his word on the very first night.
‘I know that.’ Her expression flickered with a look that he couldn’t interpret. Suspicion? Fear? No, incongruously enough, it looked more like hurt, though surely it couldn’t be that.
‘If I could just have a few moments to get ready for bed?’ She lifted her chin up slightly.
‘Of course.’ He found himself clearing his throat again. ‘Should I call for Eliza?’
‘No, I can manage.’
‘Very well. In that case, I’ll wait outside.’
He stepped out into the corridor, feeling relieved and slightly ridiculous at the same time. The whole situation was ludicrous. He’d never been so formal with a woman in his life and this was his wedding night. He sounded as priggish as his father, for pity’s sake! Maybe the room was affecting him even more than he’d thought. The thought of sharing a bed with her made him as nervous as a youth with his first encounter and he wasn’t even intending to sleep with her!
She opened the door again after a few minutes, dressed in what appeared to be a small tent. It managed to conceal everything, from the point of her chin down to the tips of her toes, yet the effect was oddly enticing. Such a concerted attempt to conceal her body only made him ten times more curious about it. Oh, hell...
‘I’m ready.’ She seemed to be avoiding his eyes. ‘Shall I wait outside while you undress, too?’
‘No.’ He shook his head. She looked and sounded so sincere that he had to clench his jaw to stop himself from laughing. ‘Get into bed if you like. You must be tired.’
He watched as she fled across the room, uncertain about how to proceed. Usually he slept naked, but considering her somewhat excessive apparel, he supposed he ought to modify his habits tonight. Slowly, he untied his cravat and pulled off his shirt, undershirt and trousers, leaving only his drawers, before moving cautiously across to the bed, extinguishing all the candles so that the only remaining light came from the fireside.
‘May I?’ He felt even more ridiculous asking permission to get in, but she had the covers pulled up to her chin, as if she were afraid her voluminous nightgown wasn’t armour enough, and he didn’t want to alarm her. She gave a tiny nod and he climbed in, resisting the urge to spread out, as usual, in the centre.
‘Comfortable?’ He felt the need to say something, anything, to ease the tension he could feel emanating from her side.
‘Yes. It’s just...strange.’
‘Would you prefer me to sleep in the chair?’
‘No.’ She shook her head quickly. ‘It wouldn’t be good for your leg. And we are married.’
‘Yes.’ He hoisted the covers up over his chest. ‘So we are.’
They were silent for a few moments, both staring at the canopy as if there were something of intense interest above them.
‘I haven’t shared a bed with anyone for years.’ She broke the silence finally. ‘Not since my mother died. She used to sleep with me when I was frightened.’
‘My mother used to let Arthur and me sleep in her bed when we had bad dreams, too.’ He smiled at the memory. He hadn’t thought about that for years...
‘It was nice, having someone to curl up with.’ She stiffened suddenly. ‘Not that I mean...’
‘I know what you mean.’ Although he was inclined to agree in either case. The warmth radiating from her small body was already tempting him across the centre of the bed. It would be more than nice to curl up with her. It would be nice to do other things, too. More than nice, in fact... Damn it. Even the thought made his body react in a way that was definitely not in keeping with their agreement. He shifted on to his side and flicked at the covers, trying to hide the evidence.
‘Didn’t you have a nurse to sleep with?’ He tried to distract himself with the question.
‘Yes, for a while.’ She twisted her head towards him with a perplexed expression. ‘Are you too hot?’
‘No.’
‘We can take the covers off if you like?’
‘What? Oh, no, I was just rearranging. You said you had a nurse?’
‘Yes, but she never slept with me. She never touched me if she could help it. My father told her not to. He thought it was bad for me.’
‘To be touched?’
‘Or embraced. Or kissed. He said it was all sentimental nonsense.’
He propped himself up on one elbow to look down at her. Did she sound wistful or was he just imagining it?
‘Didn’t you have other relatives? Aunts? Uncles? Grandparents?’
‘My father didn’t have any family as far as I know, although some of my mother’s family came to her funeral. They said they’d visit me, but they never did.’
‘They never wrote to you? Never invited you to stay?’
‘If they did, my father never told me.’ Her eyes looked very bright in the firelight suddenly, as if there were tears glistening inside them. ‘But perhaps I’m blaming him unfairly. Perhaps they didn’t want me.’
He felt an ache in his chest, a combination of sympathy for her and anger towards her father. How lonely must she have been, growing up in that vast, empty prison of a house without any love or affection, just a miserly old man hoarding her all to himself for company? He had the sudden strong conviction that if he could wind the clock back five years, then not only would he call Jeremy Harper a few more choice words than liar, but he would rescue her, too. He would have refused to leave the ballroom without her. Then he would have gathered her into his arms the way he wanted to now.
That would definitely give the wrong impression.
‘I’m sure your mother’s family wanted you, Violet. They would have been mad not to. Do you know where they live?’
‘No.’
He drew his brows together thoughtfully. ‘Did your father have a study?’
‘Yes, but he always kept it locked. I think Mr Rowlinson has the key.’
‘Then it belongs to you now. We ought to take a look. There might be some clue as to where they live.’
‘No.’ She shook her head vehemently. ‘I know it sounds wicked, but I don’t want to go back there ever again.’
‘Then let me.’
She looked surprised. ‘You wouldn’t mind?’
‘Not at all, and if that doesn’t work then there are plenty of other ways we can find them.’
She pursed her lips together as if she were trying to control some emotion. ‘I’d like that.’
‘Good. Then I’ll look into it while you’re away.’
Impulsively, he reached out and brushed his knuckles across her cheek, surprised by a feeling of tenderness. Even now, she looked radiant, albeit swathed in enough material to make a pair of curtains. How was it possible for such a warm, vibrant woman to have emerged out of such a cold, lonely childhood? One in which she’d never been hugged, held or kissed...
His gaze dropped to her lips. No wonder she’d been so sensitive about the subject of suitors when they’d first met. She’d never been touched or caressed by any man. Even he hadn’t kissed her at their wedding, no more than a chaste peck anyway. Considering their agreement, it hadn’t seemed appropriate to do more at the time, but now he wished that he had. It seemed wrong now not to have kissed her, even if it was too late to do anything about it. If he tried to kiss her now, even chastely, then she might think he wanted more—which, given the strain in the lower part of his body, he did.
What the hell had he been thinking, suggesting seven years?
‘You ought to get some sleep.’ He dragged his hand away and rolled on to his other side, wishing he’d ordered a cold bath for the evening. ‘You have a big day ahead of you.’
‘Yes.’ He thought he heard a faint sigh before she spoke, her voice sounding oddly subdued. ‘Goodnight, Lance.’