‘I know what you mean.’ She tilted her head back as he ran his fingers over her scalp. ‘I wonder where we’d both be if you hadn’t left and I hadn’t had my accident?’
‘I wouldn’t be washing your hair, that’s for certain. Where’s the soap, by the way?’
‘I dropped it.’ She rummaged in the tub and then passed it to him. ‘Here.’
‘Thank you.’ He rubbed his hands together to make a lather and then stroked them over her head. ‘How’s that?’
‘Perfect.’ She sighed. ‘Mrs Gargrave says that Violet’s feeling better.’
‘Yes, the doctor’s coming back later this morning, but I think the danger’s past. She and Lance are holed up in their room with the babies and the whole house is besotted.’
‘Including you?’
‘Maybe a little, especially with your little namesake.’
‘My what?’
‘Your namesake. Only I’m afraid that it’s Francis with an i, not an e. It seems that Lance already promised to name his daughter after somebody else.’
‘Who?’
‘Sophoria Gibbs. Apparently she was instrumental in bringing him and Violet together.’
‘So they’re Francis and Sophoria?’ She felt genuinely delighted. ‘I like that. Frank and Sophie.’
‘Your nephew and niece when we’re married.’ His voice sounded huskier again.
‘Yes, I suppose so...’ She tipped her head back again, giving him an upside-down smile before resting her shoulders on the back of the tub. She didn’t care how much of her he saw any more. She felt completely relaxed, as if the previous night’s experiences had drawn them even closer together. With his hands in her hair and the heat of the water surrounding her, she felt utterly and completely happy. Maybe today could be her wedding day after all, she decided impulsively.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Arthur had the strong suspicion that he was trying to drive himself mad. That was the only logical explanation for why he’d volunteered to wash her hair. That and the fact that he’d wanted an excuse to touch her. After tucking her into bed the previous night and then settling himself into one of the wicker chairs by the window, he’d woken up positively aching to hold her again. Some particularly vivid dreams hadn’t helped...
‘Did I smell so bad?’
‘Hmmm?’ He stilled his hands as they threaded through her hair, taken aback by the question.
‘Last night.’ She twisted her head, peering over her shoulder at him in such a way that he caught a glimpse of one perfectly formed breast. ‘Mrs Gargrave said that a bath was your idea. I wondered if it was because I smelled so terrible.’
‘I can’t say that I noticed, though if you had then it would have been perfectly understandable. I don’t care about things like that, Frances.’
‘I know.’ She turned her face away again, though from the tone of her voice he could tell she was smiling. ‘I’ve never known anyone like you before.’
‘Is that a good thing?’
‘Yes, you don’t judge people the way everyone else does. You don’t care what other people expect of you either.’
‘Because what other people expect of me isn’t important. Sometimes expectations can be a prison. I learnt that the hard way.’
‘Perhaps.’ The smile was gone from her voice now. ‘Although people having no expectations of you can be lonely, too. Being an outcast isn’t easy.’
‘Neither of us has to be lonely any more, Frances.’ He rubbed his hands tenderly over her neck and massaged her shoulder blades. Perhaps now was the time to tell her about his fears for the future, but it was hard to concentrate with the feeling of her skin beneath his fingertips and he was still distracted by his fleeting glimpse of cleavage. ‘Besides, you smell quite delectable now. What kind of a person would judge you by something so trivial?’
‘Leo would. He used to tell me if I had so much as a hair out of place.’
‘I believe you. His hair’s always perfect.’
‘You know, Lydia went out riding with him yesterday.’
‘With Fairfax?’ He was surprised enough to forget about her breasts for a moment.
‘Yes. I think it’s her way of getting back at me.’
‘I told you, you don’t have to feel guilty.’
‘I know. At least my head knows that, but it’s hard not to feel that way. I’ve tried talking to her, but it’s no use, she won’t listen. I think she’s really hurt.’ She heaved a sigh. ‘Poor Lydia.’
‘Poor Lydia who went riding with your former fiancé just to upset you?’
‘But it doesn’t upset me, not in the way that she thinks. She can do whatever she wants with Leo Fairfax. I don’t care.’
He dipped his head and pressed a kiss against the back of her neck. ‘Then let’s forget about them for today. Now dip your head under the water. You need a rinse.’
‘Are you going to look away again?’
‘Do you want me to?’
She was silent for a moment before spinning around suddenly, allowing him a full view of her bosom before sliding, mermaid-like, beneath the water.
‘There.’ She bobbed up again after a few moments, surrounded by a swirl of dripping black hair. ‘Clean enough for you?’
He cleared his throat, unable to answer as all coherent thought seemed to abandon him.
‘Today.’ She stood up, droplets of water cascading around her as she looked deep into his eyes and smiled.
‘Today?’ Somehow he croaked the word out.
‘For our wedding. I don’t want to wait any longer either. If you’ll still have me, we can get married today.’
‘If I’ll still have you...’ He didn’t bother to reach for a sheet, hauling her soaking-wet body straight into his arms instead. ‘Of course I will.’
* * *
‘What are you thinking about?’
Frances looked shyly across the breakfast table to where Arthur was leaning back in his chair, regarding her through half-closed eyelids with a lazy-looking smile on his face. It seemed ridiculous to feel self-conscious after she’d just stood completely naked in front of him, but she did. To be honest, it was hard to believe that she’d behaved in such an uncharacteristically forward fashion, although she didn’t regret it either. Arthur made her feel safe and accepted and loved. He made her feel brave, too—brave enough to show the whole of herself, just as she was—and he hadn’t exactly objected. On the contrary, his embrace had been positively bone-crushing, accompanied by a series of kisses so fierce that she’d felt vaguely disorientated, not to mention disappointed, when he’d pulled away again after a few moments, wrapping a sheet around her shoulders and then stepping aside like a gentleman. For the first time, she’d actually wished he was the callous brute she’d first taken him for.
Afterwards, he’d helped her to dress and even made an attempt to do her hair, with the result that it was now tied in some kind of knot at the nape of her neck, one that she wasn’t entirely sure she’d be able to unravel, not that it mattered. Of all men in the world, Arthur was the very last who would ever judge her on the way she, or her hair, looked. It was one of the things she loved most about him.
‘I’m not thinking,’ he answered at last, his smile widening. ‘I’m just feeling happy.’
‘Happy?’ She lowered her fork in surprise. It wasn’t a word she associated with him, but now that he mentioned it, he did look happy, as well as younger and handsomer, too. The look on his face implied it was all due to her and the idea made her feel warm and tingly inside.
‘Hard though it may be to believe, yes. Very happy.’ The smile was a grin now. ‘I ought to watch you take a bath more often.’
‘Arthur!’ She threw a quick look at the open door to the hallway.
‘Of course maybe next time I shouldn’t just watch. Maybe next time I should join you.’<
br />
She looked down at her plate, feeling warm and tingly on the outside now as well, embarrassed and excited in equal measure. It was certainly an interesting idea, even if he was just teasing her... But since she was feeling brave this morning...
She pushed her chair back and moved around the edge of the table, wrapping her arms around his neck before seating herself squarely on his lap.
‘It’s a pity I’m already so clean...’ she peeked up through her lashes, teasing him back ‘...but I’m afraid Mrs Gargrave might think it strange if I take two baths in one morning.’
His gaze darkened instantly. ‘Tonight, then.’
‘Tonight.’ She felt a tremor of anticipation ripple through her body as he slid his hands over her shoulder blades and down her back. ‘Isn’t it strange to think we’ll be married in a few hours?’
‘No second thoughts?’
‘None, although my mother won’t be happy about the lack of time to prepare. The clothes, the food, the...’ She paused mid-sentence. ‘Where will we even live? At the farm?’
‘That was my intention.’ His hands stilled on their journey downwards. ‘Unless you have any objections?’
‘No. I like it there.’ She leaned forward, rubbing her nose against his and then touching a kiss to both of his cheeks, trying to ease the look of tension that had appeared on his face suddenly. ‘Is it so difficult being here? Are the memories so painful?’
‘Not as much as they used to be—’ he frowned ‘—only I suppose I’m afraid of falling back into old ways.’ He looked on the verge of saying something else before the sound of a knock on the front door distracted him. ‘Besides, it’s Lance and Violet’s home now.’
‘And Francis and Sophie’s.’ She clambered off his knee reluctantly at the sound of voices in the hallway. ‘In that case, we’ll live at the farm, just as long as you don’t expect me to round up any stray piglets.’
‘Duly noted. You can take charge of the chickens.’
‘Or cats. I like cats.’ She grasped hold of his hand, pulling him up out of the chair after her. ‘Speaking of Francis and Sophie, I’d like to see them again before I leave.’
‘Good, because I doubt you’d be allowed to leave without seeing them again, although it sounds as if the doctor’s just arrived. Care to join me for a quiet stroll around the garden until everyone’s ready?’ He raised his eyebrows. ‘There’s a maze with some particularly secluded corners.’
She feigned a look of shock and then giggled, skipping happily towards the door. ‘I suppose if it passes the time...’
* * *
Arthur propped a shoulder against the door jamb, watching as Frances sat down on the bed next to Violet. Even Mrs Gargrave’s grey gown couldn’t dampen his desire for her, nor block out his memory of the body beneath. Not that he wanted to block it out. On the contrary, he wanted to think about it, to remember and savour every last curve and detail of how she’d looked and felt, but now wasn’t the time or the place. That would be tonight. Still, he couldn’t help but feel a tightening sensation in his chest every time he looked in her direction, which was all the time since he appeared unable to drag his eyes away.
He’d told her that he was happy and meant it. It was a strange feeling, like the echo of some emotion he remembered from a long time ago. Except that echo wasn’t a strong enough word. There was nothing quiet or restrained about this feeling. It was all-engulfing, a deep-seated sense of contentment and joy. He felt like a new man, a man whose past didn’t matter, as if the presence of new life in the house had given him a new sense of optimism. The easy way in which she’d accepted where they would live had made him happier still. If she could be so calm about that, then maybe he could tell her the rest of his worries, too. Soon. Very soon. Perhaps on the journey back to Whitby...
‘You slept here, then?’ Lance came up to him, clasping his hand in a firm grip. ‘I wondered about that.’
‘What about you? Have you had any rest yet?’
‘No.’ His brother shook his head ruefully. ‘I’ve just been looking at them, all three of them. I can’t tell you, when I think of what might have happened...’
His voice broke and Arthur put a hand on his shoulder. ‘It’s all right. They’re all right.’
‘I know and I need to thank you for what you said last night. If I’d started drinking, then you’d have probably found me out roaming around the moors this morning.’
‘I don’t think so.’
‘Then maybe you think better of me than I deserve.’ Lance dashed a hand across his face. ‘I think I understand how you felt now.’
Arthur lifted an eyebrow quizzically. ‘What do you mean?’
‘When you ran away. You were desperate, weren’t you?’ Lance put a hand through his hair. ‘I’ve never felt as desperate as I did last night, not even when I was shot. I’m only thankful you were here to stop me from doing something stupid.’
‘The situations are different.’ Arthur frowned, struck with a vague sense of disquiet. Somehow the parallel disturbed him. ‘You would never have abandoned Violet.’
‘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...
The Viscount's Veiled Lady Page 20