She’d removed his greatcoat, he noticed, though not that ridiculously flimsy cloak. She hadn’t even pulled the hood back from her head. Was she ever going to take the damned thing off? He’d barely caught a glimpse of her face and what he had seen had been cast deep in shadow, as if she were trying to hide from him on top of everything else. The thought, aggravated by brandy, made him suddenly furious.
‘Come with me.’ He seized her hand as he limped past.
‘Where?’ She almost tripped over her skirts as she spun after him. ‘Your housekeeper said...’
‘My housekeeper had no business saying anything.’
He tightened his grip on her fingers as he mounted the staircase. There was no carpet here either, so that the hard tread of his footsteps echoed loudly around the cavernous hallway. Generally, he preferred to climb stairs on his own, or at least without an audience, but he was too angry now to care what she thought of him or his leg. If she was offended by his infirmity, then the sooner she got used to it, the better.
‘Where are we going?’
She tugged against him as they reached the half landing, but he held tight, hauling her up the right-hand branch of the staircase and down a wood-panelled corridor.
‘You can’t hold me here against my will!’
She sounded more defiant than frightened and he felt an unwonted flicker of admiration. He would have expected most women to burst into tears by now.
‘I’m offering you hospitality in a snowstorm, Miss Harper. Or would you prefer to be out on the moors by yourself?’
‘Better than being trapped here with a beast like you!’
He gritted his teeth. Was that how she thought of him, then, as a beast? Admittedly he wasn’t behaving much like a gentleman, but if that were the case then he’d show her just how much of a beast he could be!
‘Then let’s say I’m protecting you from yourself.’
He hauled her towards the furthermost door at the end of the corridor and took a rusty iron key from a hook on the wall, pushing it into the lock and twisting it around with a loud scraping sound. He doubted that the door had been opened more than a handful of times in the past ten years. The octagonal tower had been his mother’s sitting room, though after her death his father had covered the furniture in dust sheets and never set foot inside again. No one had found any use for it since, but for some reason it seemed particularly suited to Miss Harper. Hadn’t he once thought she belonged in a fairy-tale tower?
The lock clicked at last and he turned the handle, ramming one shoulder up against the door as an icy draught whistled past them.
‘Make yourself at home.’ He released her hand finally and gestured inside. ‘I’m sure you’d like a rest after your busy morning.’
‘In here?’ She sounded shocked and he felt a moment of misgiving. In truth, the place looked even more cold and cheerless than he’d expected.
‘In here.’ He hardened his heart mercilessly. ‘I think you’ll still find it preferable to the mines at Rosedale.’
‘But...’ She took a tentative step forward and then twisted her head sharply, sniffing the air as she did so.
‘You’re drunk!’
He caught a flash of sapphire from beneath her hood and let his temper get the better of him, lifting a hand and wrenching it back to reveal a pair of enormous blue eyes in a small, outraged-looking face. He stiffened in surprise. It was the same face, even the same expression she’d been wearing when they’d argued five years ago, as if time had stopped and she hadn’t aged a day. He’d thought of her first as a kitten, then as an ice maiden, and yet he seemed to have remembered every detail of her face perfectly, as if they’d been imprinted on his memory. There’d been enough women, too many women, in his life before and since, and yet hers was the face he remembered... How was it possible for her to have changed so little, while he felt as though he’d aged decades?
‘I’ve been drinking,’ he corrected her. ‘That doesn’t make me drunk.’
‘Really?’ She gave him a look that would have made Mrs Gargrave proud.
‘I take it that your father never drank in the daytime?’
‘He never drank at all.’
‘Of course.’ He adopted what he hoped was a suitably scathing expression. ‘I forgot what a paragon of virtue he was, but I’m afraid you’ll need to lower your standards here. I drink every day. Sometimes for breakfast.’
Her chin jutted upwards. ‘It’s not something to boast about.’
‘I’m simply stating a fact. You’ll need to get used to it when we’re married.’
‘I won’t marry you! It doesn’t matter how long you keep me here, I won’t change my mind. I don’t want to marry anyone, especially not a man like you!’
‘And what kind of man would that be exactly?’ He advanced a step towards her, expecting her to retreat, but she only lifted her chin higher.
‘You have to ask?’
‘Indulge me, Miss Harper. Educate me, if you will.’ He lowered his face down to hers, so close that they were almost touching, daring her to answer. ‘Tell me just what it is that you find so very repellent?’
‘Everything! You’re a drunk and a gambler and...’ her cheeks flushed slightly ‘...a libertine!’
He drew back in surprise, a retort fading on his lips. That hadn’t been what he’d expected, not at all.
‘Are you saying that it’s my character you object to?’
‘Of course!’ She blinked. ‘What else would it be?’
He glanced pointedly down at his leg. What else indeed? He’d been so wrapped up in his resentment of her character that he’d never stopped to wonder what she thought of his. He’d simply assumed that she found his injury distasteful. In which case...
‘Then I’m curious to know why you have such a low opinion of me. Because of what happened at the ball? I believe that both of our fathers called me a reprobate.’
‘Partly.’ Her eyelashes fluttered perceptibly when he mentioned the ball. ‘And I’ve heard rumours.’
‘Gossip, Miss Harper? I wouldn’t have thought you one to indulge in that particular vice.’
‘I don’t, but I’ve still heard stories. Or are you saying they aren’t true?’
‘On the contrary, I’m sure they’re all true and worse besides. I doubt the whole truth would bear repeating in polite circles, especially to young ladies.’
‘Are you proud of your reputation, then?’
‘No, but I have so few other distinctions.’
Her eyes widened with a look of consternation. ‘I’ll never marry you!’
‘Then I admire your resolve, but you might think differently when you’ve had a little time to reconsider.’ He moved away from her, pulling the door shut behind him. ‘I trust you’ll be comfortable here.’
‘Wait!’ She caught at the edge of the door before it closed. ‘I have a friend. I need to send word that I’m all right or she’ll be worried.’
‘An accomplice?’ He half opened the door again, still blocking the way out with his body. ‘Was that why you were going to Helmsley, to meet her?’
‘No. That is...not her.’
He narrowed his gaze suspiciously. Did she have two accomplices, then? Her evasiveness suggested that one of them was a man—a lover? That was the most likely answer, though the idea of her having another suitor hadn’t crossed his mind until now. He didn’t like it.
‘If I could just send a message...please?’
He gave an unsympathetic snort. If she’d been going to meet a lover, then he had absolutely no intention of setting the man’s mind at rest so easily. If whoever it was wanted to marry her, then he ought to have come and confronted him man to man, not plotted an elopement behind his back.
‘No.’
‘But...’
‘No!’ His voice sounded even fiercer than he’d in
tended. ‘If you think that I’m going to send anyone out in this weather, then you’re even more of a little fool than I thought!’
She drew in a sharp breath at the insult, though she still didn’t flinch, staring back at him instead with an expression of intense loathing.
‘Then I’ll wait here until the storm clears. After that, you’ve no right to keep me.’
‘You’re absolutely right, I don’t. Though I doubt the storm will clear by tonight and unless you want to leave in the dark then I’m afraid you’re stuck here with me, a renowned libertine, and without, as my housekeeper so delicately pointed out, a chaperon. Whatever your plans for the future, I hope they don’t depend on your keeping a good reputation.’
Her defiant expression crumpled into one of horror. ‘But that’s monstrous! No one would ever employ me if they knew. You wouldn’t be so cruel!’
‘Didn’t you pay any attention to all that gossip? If you had, then you’d know very well that I would.’ He smiled mirthlessly. ‘Welcome to Amberton Castle, Miss Harper. I hope that you have a good night.’
Chapter Three
‘Miss Harper?’
Violet frowned in her sleep. The voice in her dream seemed to be coming from a distance, but she had no idea what it was doing there. It was a woman’s voice, though she didn’t recognise it, repeating her name over and over, though that made no sense either. In her dream, she was out alone on the moors, desperately trying to find shelter as towers of snow piled up higher and deeper around her, imprisoning her behind their thick, white, impenetrable walls. She was lost and afraid, without any hope of rescue...
‘Miss Harper?’
A hand touched her shoulder this time and she jolted awake with a start.
‘Where am I?’ She looked around, but whoever had woken her was holding their candle directly in front of her face and all she could see was a bright orange glow.
‘Amberton Castle.’ It was the voice from her dream, though it sounded distinctly less than welcoming. ‘I’m Mrs Gargrave, the housekeeper.’
‘Oh...yes, of course. I remember.’
She sat up, squinting into the candlelight. Had she really fallen asleep? After pacing the room for what seemed like an eternity, she’d eventually curled up beneath a dustsheet on one of the old armchairs, though she hadn’t expected to sleep. Between the encroaching cold and the fading light, she hadn’t thought it possible to sleep in such an eerie-looking icebox of a room, but clearly she had. After all the anticipation and tension of the past few days, she must have been more tired than she’d realised. Judging by the darkness, not to mention the ache in her neck, she must have been there for a few hours, too.
‘We spoke in the hall earlier, I think? You said you’d arranged luncheon.’
‘I had.’ There was an indignant-sounding sniff. ‘Cook prepared a special meal to celebrate your marriage. Against master’s orders, I might add, but we wanted to welcome you properly. It’s all ruined now, though.’
‘Oh.’ She wasn’t sure what to say. It wasn’t as if she’d intended to get herself locked in a tower. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean...’
‘In any case, your room’s almost ready.’
‘My room?’ She scrambled quickly to her feet, dimly making out the features of a gaunt-looking woman in late middle age. ‘I thought Captain Amberton said this was my room.’
‘He’s had a change of heart.’
Heart? Somehow she doubted that. He’d have to grow a heart before he could change it and it was hard to imagine the brute who’d locked her up having any kind of conscience. Still, whatever the reason for her release, she wasn’t going to dispute it.
‘I’m relieved to hear that. I was afraid I was going to be trapped here all night.’
‘It’s a disgrace!’ The housekeeper gave another loud sniff. ‘There was a time when this house was renowned for its hospitality. When his mother was alive things were done properly, but it’s been nothing but decline ever since. I don’t know why I stay sometimes...’
‘But I’m sure my new room will be very comfortable.’ Violet gestured towards the door encouragingly. Mrs Gargrave seemed to be warming to her subject and if she was going to listen, then she preferred to do it some place warmer. ‘Shall we?’
‘Aye. Very well.’ The housekeeper looked disappointed to be interrupted mid-flow. ‘This way.’
Violet followed her gratefully out of the tower, relieved to find herself back in the wood-panelled corridor. It seemed to stretch the full length of the house, with at least ten doors on one side and a long banister and yet more stairs on the other. Mrs Gargrave led her towards them and then up to another landing, almost identical to the one below.
‘I see they didn’t exaggerate, then.’ The housekeeper threw a quick glance over her shoulder as they approached one of the doors.
‘I’m sorry?’
‘About your height. You’re even smaller than they said.’
Violet faltered mid-step. Just for once she wished she could meet someone who didn’t feel the need to either stare or make some comment about her height when they met her, as if she were somehow unaware of it, like a child to be critiqued and belittled, not a woman with feelings. There was only one person who’d ever treated her as if he hadn’t noticed and she was in no mood to think charitably of him. As for everyone else, she’d had enough. She’d spent her whole life being judged for her height and she wasn’t going to tolerate it any longer. It wasn’t as if she could do anything about it.
‘I may be small, Mrs Gargrave, but at least I have the manners not to comment on somebody else’s appearance. If I didn’t, I might say you look like you’ve swallowed a lemon.’
The shoulders in front of her stiffened perceptibly. ‘Well, I’m sure I didn’t mean any offence, but you can’t pretend it’s not noticeable.’
‘I wouldn’t try to pretend. Neither can I grow any more.’
‘Aye, well.’ There was a third sniff. ‘Here’s your room, then.’
Violet approached the door with a new and invigorating feeling of triumph. There! At least she’d stood up for herself that time, just as she’d tried to stand up for herself earlier. She wasn’t going to be criticised by Mrs Gargrave any more than she was going to be intimidated by Captain Amberton, though she didn’t exactly feel as if she’d bested him. On the contrary, she’d got herself locked in a tower. For all his talk of protecting her, deep down he was no better than her father, assuming that she’d simply do what she was told.
At least he’d finally relented and let her out again. That was one small victory. Now she just had to stand firm and keep on refusing to marry him. Her capture was a setback, not the end to her hopes of freedom. Even if her reputation was ruined, she could still find her own way in the world. Once he realised that she wasn’t going to give in then he’d have to let her go. Either that or the month would expire. Not that she’d be there for so long, surely. Once Ianthe found out where she was then she and her husband Robert would come to her rescue for certain... She only hoped it wouldn’t take them too long.
She was so engrossed in her thoughts that it took her a moment to realise that she was inside a new room, a cosy, candlelit chamber decorated in tones of cream and pale yellow, with a few solitary sticks of furniture and a large bay window overlooking what she presumed was the back of the house. A fire was already roaring in the grate, illuminating a curtained and canopied four-poster bed, where a maid was busily turning down the covers.
‘This is my bedroom?’ Violet looked around in amazement, half suspecting it to be some kind of trick. It was hard to imagine a greater contrast to the room she’d just left. Or to her old bedroom in Whitby for that matter. ‘It’s lovely.’
‘I won’t have it said that we don’t know how to look after guests.’ The housekeeper folded her arms emphatically. ‘No matter how badly the master behaves. Or anyone else, for tha
t matter.’
‘It’s all ready, Mrs Gargrave.’ The maid, a curly-haired girl in her teens, bobbed a curtsy in front of them.
‘Very good, Eliza. Now I expect that Miss Harper would like some tea. Isn’t that so, Miss Harper?’
‘Very much, thank you, but might I ask, where is Captain Amberton?’
‘In the drawing room, though I doubt he’s in any fit state to be seen. He usually isn’t in the evenings. Martin, that’s his manservant, looks after him.’
‘Is that the man who was with him earlier?’
‘Aye. He came back from Canada with him. Some kind of retainer from the army, apparently, though he keeps pretty much to himself. He deals with the worst of the captain’s behaviour, though he won’t have a word said against him.’
‘Why not?’
‘You’d have to ask him. Or the master, though I wouldn’t advise it, not tonight. You’d do best to keep to your room, miss.’
‘You mean he’s been drinking?’ Violet wrinkled her brow in distaste. ‘I thought he had earlier.’
‘Aye, well.’ The housekeeper’s expression wavered slightly, as if she were about to say something and then changed her mind. ‘As to that, I couldn’t say. He’s the master and an Amberton, whatever else he is. I won’t be accused of disloyalty, no matter how much he deserves it. Now, as you can see, I’ve unpacked your bag.’
‘Thank you...’ Violet glanced across to the dresser ‘...but I’ve no intention of staying here beyond tonight.’
The older woman drew herself upright, sucking in a long breath as if she were trying to lift her ribcage as high as possible. ‘I was told the wedding was still going ahead.’
‘Then I’m afraid you’ve been misinformed. I’ve no intention of marrying anyone, especially not Captain Amberton. I intend to return to Whitby as soon as possible.’
‘Without a chaperon again, I suppose?’
Violet regarded the housekeeper steadily. Judging by her tone, Mrs Gargrave held her at least partially responsible for her own situation. Well, the old Violet might have accepted that, might have shrunk inside herself at the implied accusation. The new Violet wasn’t going to shrink from anything any more.
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