‘Is that everyone, do you think?’
Violet peered around the edge of the front door hopefully. She’d been standing in the hallway greeting guests for so long that her feet were aching. So many new faces had paraded past her in the last hour that they’d all started to blur. Some had been vaguely familiar, though Ianthe, Robert and Mr Rowlinson’s were the only ones she’d recognised with any certainty. There was no way she was going to remember more than a dozen names.
‘I certainly hope so.’ Lance leaned against the doorjamb beside her. ‘If it’s not, then I think we should start refusing entry. Whitby must be deserted this evening. Did anyone refuse the invitation?’
‘No, though I’m starting to wish a few had.’
‘Then I’d say your ball is an unqualified success. Everyone’s come to catch a glimpse of the mysterious Violet Amberton, née Harper.’
‘I’d say that just as many have come to see the reclusive Captain Amberton.’
‘To see if he’s mended his wicked ways, do you mean? No, I refuse to believe that I have quite the same appeal. They were all looking at you, not that I can blame them. You look quite exquisite, by the way.’
‘I thought I looked enchanting.’ She gave him a teasing look. ‘That’s what you said earlier.’
‘Exquisite and enchanting and anything else beginning with e. Effervescent?’
‘I think I’ll stick with enchanting.’
He grinned and she felt the corners of her mouth tug upwards. Over the past month she’d come to realise that there was a vast difference between spiteful mocking and affectionate teasing. Lance was an expert at the latter. He was irrepressible really. She’d laughed more in the past few weeks than she had in the whole of her life before, had lost count of the number of times she’d ended up doubled over at something he’d said, or simply just at the way he’d said it. It was almost impossible to believe that he was the same stern, brooding man that she’d married.
Even if he hadn’t kissed her again.
That fact was the only thing spoiling her contentment. As much as she tried to convince herself that she didn’t care, she couldn’t repress a vague feeling of disappointment. She’d come to the conclusion that she must have read more into that first real kiss than was actually there, although she’d caught him looking at her on a number of occasions as if he wanted to do it again. As if he wanted to do more, in fact, though he’d never laid as much as a finger on her.
On the other hand, he definitely liked her appearance that evening. As vain as it sounded, he’d looked almost thunderstruck, though she’d put the effect down to her dress. She’d had it specially made for the occasion, selecting a silvery-blue satin fabric with a pattern of tiny white butterflies embroidered over the skirts. It had felt decadent buying something so gorgeous for herself, but she’d wanted to make a good impression at her second ball.
She’d wanted to match up to her husband, too, though surely that was impossible. He was looking quite breathtakingly handsome in his black formal evening suit, his chestnut hair swept back off his face, with his moustache neatly trimmed for once. She almost wished that he was dishevelled again so that he wouldn’t look quite so intimidating. She already felt a strong impulse to run her hands through his hair and ruffle him up.
‘I noticed quite a few disappointed bachelors among our guests, too.’ He gave her a faintly accusing look.
‘You did not!’
‘I assure you, I did. All those potential suitors you always denied having. Some of them were staring quite blatantly.’
‘They were probably thinking about how small I was.’
‘No.’ His tone shifted subtly. ‘They were thinking about how beautiful you are, Violet, and how I’m the luckiest man in the whole of Yorkshire, possibly all of England. You’re the only one still thinking about your size.’
She blushed at the compliment. Maybe he was right. Maybe she was the only one still preoccupied with her tiny size. She had detected a few looks of admiration, incredible as that still seemed.
‘I suppose I really can’t blame them for staring.’ His tone became teasing again. ‘I’m finding it hard to keep my eyes off you myself.’
‘Stop it!’ She laughed. ‘And don’t think I didn’t notice how some of the ladies were making eyes at you.’
‘Were they? If they were, then I certainly didn’t reciprocate.’
She gave a private smile. That was true. Engrossed as she’d been in greeting her guests, she’d still detected a few flirtatious advances towards her husband, all of which had been politely but firmly rebuffed.
‘I suppose we ought to go in?’ She glanced in the direction of the ballroom nervously.
‘Yes, but there’s no need to look so terrified. This is our ball in our house to celebrate our wedding. I’m on my best behaviour, you look elegant and enticing and...’ he waved a hand in the air ‘...ethereal. Why don’t we just go and enjoy ourselves?’
‘You’re right.’ She took a steadying breath. ‘It’s just...I want everything to be perfect.’
‘Which is why you’ve spent the last month making it so. You’ve spent so much time with Mrs Gargrave that I’ve become quite jealous. Though, of course, she adores you now, just like the rest of my staff.’ He heaved an exaggerated sigh. ‘I’m really quite aggrieved to have been replaced in her affections.’
She grasped hold of his arm and tugged him unceremoniously in the direction of the ballroom. ‘You’re incorrigible, but if you’re trying to make me relax then it’s working. Thank you.’
‘Good. Just remember that everyone’s come to have a good time. To appease their curiosity about us, too, but mostly to enjoy themselves. Now...’ he stopped in the doorway and made an exaggerated bow ‘...shall we give them something memorable to look at?’
‘What do you mean?’ She felt a moment of panic. Everyone in the room was turning to look at them, bringing all her anxieties back with a vengeance.
‘Will you start the dancing with me, Violet?’
‘But...dancing?’ She glanced down at his leg. ‘Can you?’
‘I can shuffle. It might not be the most edifying spectacle, but I should be able to manage a couple of turns around the room at least.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘I am. I’ve even been practising, mortifying as it was when Mrs Gargrave walked in on me.’
She had to stifle a laugh. ‘You should have asked her to partner you.’
‘I thought of it, but the poor woman looked horrified enough.’
‘Then you should have asked me.’
‘Ah, but I wanted to surprise you. Now, will you do me the honour?’
She nodded and let him lead her into the centre of the floor, vividly aware of the muscles of his arm bunching beneath her fingers as they walked. He must be nervous, too, she realised, although she guessed it was less due to the prospect of dancing than the room itself. She’d found him there that afternoon, sitting on the piano bench, looking around with such a sombre, almost mournful expression that she’d been half tempted to cancel the ball on the spot, but then he’d looked towards her and smiled, and the impulse had passed. This evening was as significant an event for him as it was for her, she’d realised, perhaps even more so since this was his family home, but it was also a necessary one. They were confronting their pasts together—and if her injured husband was brave enough to dance, then she could overcome her self-consciousness, too.
He made a gesture to the orchestra and then swung round to face her, placing one hand on the small of her back as the other clasped her gloved fingers. For a moment, her nerve failed her, as though she were back in this very ballroom five years before, dancing her first and only dance with this same man, feeling small and incredibly foolish. She was briefly tempted to run, but then her eyes met his and her spirits rallied again. He wasn’t the same man she’d danced with back then. He’d never been that man. She hadn’t known him at all five years ago, but she did now. Over the past month they’d spent living together, she’d come to know the real him—and she loved him.
She what?
She’d barely had a chance to acknowledge the thought before the music started and his grip on her hand tightened.
‘I requested a waltz...’ he leaned forward to whisper in her ear, so close that she could feel the warmth of his breath on her cheek ‘...but I’ll try not to lean on you too much. I’ve always said you make a handy walking stick.’
‘It’s all right.’ She forced her voice to remain calm despite the trembling sensation in her knees. ‘You can lean on me as much as you need.’
‘You might regret saying that.’
He grinned and then they were moving, swaying and swirling around the floor, somewhat stiffly perhaps, but still dancing. If he felt any discomfort in his leg, he gave no sign of it, gazing into her face with a smile that held no hint of mockery. She felt suddenly, unexpectedly, acutely happy. She loved him. Of course she did. And she wanted to dance—to truly enjoy a dance for the first time in her life. She was hardly aware of the crowd watching them any more. There was only him, sweeping her around the ballroom in his arms with a hundred candles blazing around them, as if they were the only two people in the world.
‘Do you know, ethereal might be the perfect word.’ His gaze clung to hers. ‘Did I mention how beautiful you look tonight?’
‘Once or twice.’
‘Well, it bears repeating a third time, possibly a fourth and fifth before the evening’s out. Alas, anyone would think I’m hoping for a compliment in return.’
‘Oh!’ She bit her lip guiltily. She hadn’t thought to offer him any compliments, but why on earth would a man as handsome as he was need to be told? ‘Do you want one?’
‘It would be nice to know what my wife thinks of my appearance. Martin’s made quite an effort with me.’
She laughed. ‘Then tell Martin you look very handsome. You always do. It’s quite unfair.’
‘Unfair?’ He looked puzzled. ‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean, how can I ever hope to match up?’
His eyes lost their look of merriment. ‘You exceed me, Violet, in every possible way. You’re beautiful inside and out, didn’t anyone ever tell you that?’
She gazed at him speechlessly as the waltz ended and other couples made their way on to the floor. No, no one had ever told her anything so poignant before. Any compliments she’d received had always been perfunctory at best. No one else had ever sounded as if they truly meant them, whereas he—he sounded as if he truly did. He made her feel it, his amber eyes glowing with an intensity that made her heart leap into her throat.
‘I suppose we ought to see to our guests.’ He pressed a kiss to the inside of her wrist and then winced.
‘What’s the matter? Is it your leg?’
‘Just a twinge.’ He made an apologetic face. ‘I’m afraid I might have been a tad overambitious with a waltz. Forgive me, Violet, but I think I’ve done enough dancing for tonight.’
‘Of course. You should sit down and rest.’
‘No, I ought to reintroduce myself to Whitby society. I’ve put it off long enough.’ He escorted her back to the edge of the floor. ‘You go and enjoy yourself. It’s about time you had some fun, only not too much without me. I’ll be watching.’
Violet stared after him as he limped stiffly away. I’ll be watching...as if he wanted to watch her. Was it possible that he might care for her after all, then? That he might not want to wait seven years? Everything about his behaviour seemed to suggest it...
‘Mrs Amberton?’
Her father’s old lawyer appeared in front of her and she inclined her head politely.
‘Mr Rowlinson, good evening. Are you enjoying the ball?’
‘Very much. It’s good to see Amberton Castle all lit up again. These balls have been sorely missed over the past few years.’
‘We thought it would be a good way to celebrate our wedding since the event itself was so small.’
‘Indeed.’ The lawyer lowered his voice confidentially. ‘And I’m glad to hear that your marriage is a cause for celebration. You must know I was most uncomfortable carrying out the terms of your father’s will.’
‘I do know it, but it’s all right. They were my father’s wishes, not yours.’
‘No, but as events have transpired...’ He faltered, as if unsure whether or not to go on.
‘What do you mean?’ She looked at him enquiringly. ‘Is something wrong?’
‘Not wrong exactly, only there’s something I ought perhaps to tell you.’ He threw a swift look over his shoulder, as if to make sure no one could hear them. ‘It relates to your father’s will.’
‘Yes?’
‘Well, the fact is that besides your own inheritance, there were a number of other small clauses in the document. Minor ones, mostly relating to the party who was to inherit the estate should your marriage to Captain Amberton not go ahead. Considering the somewhat unusual circumstances, I felt obliged to travel to Cumberland to explain matters to that gentleman in person.’
‘And?’ She felt a vague prickle of unease.
‘He disavowed the will.’
‘He what?’
Mr Rowlinson cleared his throat awkwardly. ‘It seems that, despite being a second cousin of your father’s, the pair of them were never close. In fact, the gentleman said a few choice phrases, quite unsuitable for a lady’s ears, that makes that quite an understatement.’
‘He didn’t want the money?’
‘No. He said he was well enough off, had no children of his own and wanted nothing to do with any of it. He also added that the will itself was just what he would have expected from your father. He was, if you’ll forgive my saying so, a great deal like him.’
‘I see.’ She blinked a few times, mind racing. ‘But how does this affect me?’
‘It doesn’t, at least not now. Two months ago, however...’
‘It would have made a difference?’
‘Yes. I’m afraid it probably means that your marriage was unnecessary after all. Your father had no other close relatives and, without any other claimants to challenge the will, I believe that the money would have reverted to you anyway.’
‘So you’re saying there was no need for me to marry Lance?’
‘I think not.’ Mr Rowlinson looked distinctly uncomfortable. ‘Which is why I’m delighted to see you both looking so happy tonight.’
‘Yes.’ She looked across the room at her husband, the lawyer’s words ringing in her ears. Lance was standing in a group of elderly gentlemen, wearing his most courteous, charming expression. There was no need for her to have married him...and yet she was married to him—and she loved him. Mr Rowlinson’s news didn’t change anything, yet it struck her suddenly that there was a way out of the marriage if she still wanted it. Lack of consummation would be grounds for an annulment.
‘Theoretically then, if there were a way to dissolve our marriage, would I keep my inheritance?’
Mr Rowlinson looked positively alarmed. ‘Yes, I believe so, although a divorce would be very costly. It would cause quite a scandal, too.’
She was seized by the desire to burst out laughing. Clearly the idea of a non-consummation hadn’t occurred to him, although given Lance’s reputation with women that was easy to understand. She would probably have a hard time convincing a court of her innocence in that regard, too. Funny how different they were now, the man and his reputation. A giggle escaped past her lips.
‘Mrs Amberton?’
‘Forgive me. It’s just, my poor father... His plans could hardly have gone any further awry.’
The lawyer inclined his head. ‘No, I do believe that you’re right.’
‘He would have been appalled. The funny thing is that I’m genuinely happy. Despite all his plans, I’m actually grateful to him for making that will. Isn’t it odd?’
‘I suppose so.’
He was looking at her as if she’d had too much to drink and she swallowed another giggle. ‘Have you told my husband any of this yet?’
‘No, I didn’t think it was necessary. Unless you think so?’
‘Not tonight. I’ll tell him later. As you say, it doesn’t make any difference now.’
Mr Rowlinson looked relieved. ‘There was just one other matter, Mrs Amberton. A few weeks ago, your husband asked me to look into your mother’s side of the family. It took me a while to go through your father’s papers, but I eventually found an old birth certificate and was able to trace them from there. I’m afraid that your grandparents are already deceased, but your mother also had a sister who’s still living. In York, as it happens.’
Violet caught her breath. ‘So close?’
‘Yes, your mother was from the city originally. I took the liberty of bringing your aunt’s address with me tonight.’ He reached into his pocket and fished out a piece of card.
‘So I have some family...’ She gazed at the card with something like wonder, then caught sight of Robert approaching. ‘Oh, Mr Felstone, you know Mr Rowlinson, of course?’
‘I do.’ He made a formal bow to both of them. ‘But I’ve come to request the honour of a dance. My wife tells me that she’s in no condition to polka.’
‘Then I’d be delighted.’ She slipped the card into her reticule and then reached up impulsively to press a kiss to the lawyer’s cheek. ‘Good evening, Mr Rowlinson, and thank you. You’re completely forgiven for everything.’
* * *
Lance looked across the ballroom and frowned. His wife was dancing with Robert Felstone. He ought not to be jealous. It was ridiculous to be jealous and not just because Robert was clearly besotted with his own wife, Violet’s best friend. Not because Violet was looking so happy in his company either. Not even because, damn it all, he actually liked the man. He was jealous simply because someone else was dancing with his wife while he stood on the sidelines watching. She looked vibrant and glowing and, as he seemed unable to stop repeating, beautiful, like a long-dormant rosebud blossoming in the sunshine. She’d faced up to her fears and triumphed. Beautiful was the only word for her.
He flexed his leg muscles tentatively and grimaced. Damn this injury. If it weren’t for his bullet wound, he would happily have danced with Violet all night, never mind the gossip. Damn his injury, damn the man who’d shot him and double damn the woman who’d caused it.
He gave a start of surprise. He’d never allowed himself to feel anger about the events or people connected with his injury before, only guilt and an intense sense of self-loathing. The feeling was strangely liberating, as if he’d taken some kind of step forward. Maybe Violet was right and he had finally punished himself enough to move on, to seize a second chance at happiness. Even if he didn’t deserve her, could he allow himself to be happy? Could they be happy together?
He wasn’t sure when exactly he’d fallen in love, though he suspected it was the moment he’d seen her standing on the station platform a month ago and the feeling had only got stronger every day since. Had it really only been a month? That meant only another six years and ten months before he could actually touch her, before he could...
He stopped the thought before he could finish it. No matter what he wanted, or how badly he wanted it, it wasn’t his place to suggest any change to their domestic arrangements. They’d made a bargain—at his suggestion. He couldn’t renege on it now, not unless she wanted to. Did she? He’d had the distinct impression on a couple of occasions over the past month that she might, but what if he was wrong?
If he was, then that kind of mistake could ruin everything between them. He’d likely scare her away for ever. Never mind the fact that if they were going to have a real marriage then he’d have to tell her the whole truth about himself and his injury—he owed her that much—and there was no way he wanted to do that. Better to be celibate for ever than have her despise him.
‘You know, my husband’s a good judge of character.’
Ianthe Felstone appeared at his shoulder and he twisted around in surprise. It was the first time she’d spoken to him since the wedding.
‘Is that so?’
‘Yes, and he likes you. It’s not easy to admit when we’ve been in the wrong, Captain Amberton, but in this case I’m pleased to do so. You make Violet happy.’
He felt a lurch in his chest. ‘I hope so.’
‘I know so. I was afraid that if she married you, she’d be just as trapped and unhappy as she was before. I expected the worst, but you’ve brought out the best in her.’
‘That wasn’t me. I just gave her the freedom to find out who she was.’
‘But you set her free. A lot of men wouldn’t have. I should have known better than to believe all the gossip about you. I’m sorry.’
She held out a hand and he bowed over it. ‘Don’t be sorry. You were protecting your friend. She deserves to be happy.’
‘And loved.’ She gave him a searching look. ‘It’s funny, but when I came over here you looked very much like a man in love with his wife. I’m lucky enough to know what that looks like. I want Violet to know it, too, but I’m afraid she might not recognise the emotion when she sees it. She hasn’t had a great deal of affection in her life. It’s entirely possible she might need you to tell her how you feel.’
He opened his mouth to deny it and then reconsidered. ‘It’s not so easy. We made an agreement.’
‘Ah.’ Ianthe took a small sip of lemonade. ‘You know, my marriage to Robert was complicated, too, at the start. I should have told him how I felt about him a long time before I did, but I had a secret and I didn’t want him to find out and regret marrying me. I was afraid.’ She gave him a smile that held more than a hint of challenge. ‘Of course, that’s where you’re fortunate, Captain Amberton. The one thing I never took you for was a coward.’