‘Why do I get the feeling you don’t approve of me, Mrs Gargrave?’
‘It’s not my place to have an opinion.’
‘Really?’ She lifted an eyebrow sceptically. She had the distinct impression that the housekeeper had a great deal of opinions, most of them negative. ‘But if I wanted to know? If I asked you what you thought of me?’
‘Very well, then, since you asked, I don’t approve of any woman who flouts her father’s wishes and runs away from home on her own. It’s a disgrace! In my day, girls did as they were told.’
‘I see. Then it might interest you to know that I’ve spent twenty-three years doing almost everything I was told.’
‘That’s as may be...’
‘I went out once a week in my father’s company. I had no other family, very few acquaintance and even fewer friends. I was told what to do, where to go, what to wear and even what to eat. Now I believe I’ve earned the right to make a few decisions of my own, including who I do or don’t want to marry.’
‘It’s still not right for an unmarried woman to stay in a house with an unmarried man on her own.’
‘Maybe not, but that was hardly by choice. I was brought here against my will by a man who insists that I marry him despite my repeated refusals. I would have thought you’d be more shocked by that than my so-called disobedience.’
‘Well.’ Mrs Gargrave pulled her shoulders back. ‘Like I said, it’s none of my business. I’ve told him what I think of his behaviour, for all the good it’ll do, and now I’ve told you what I think of yours. In my book you’re as bad as each other. I’ve done my part to make you comfortable and I won’t have it said that I didn’t. The rest is between the two of you. I shan’t be dragged into anything sordid.’
‘How charitable of you, Mrs Gargrave.’ Violet felt seized with the unlikely desire to laugh. The housekeeper’s flinty expression clearly suggested that she thought her some kind of harlot. It was the first time in her life she’d been criticised for loose morals and the feeling was strangely liberating. ‘As long as your conscience is clear.’
They were prevented from saying anything more as the door opened again and Eliza came back into the room bearing a tray laden with tea and sandwiches.
‘There now.’ The housekeeper gave one last resounding sniff as the maid deposited the tray on a table. ‘If there’s anything else you need, ring the bell. Eliza here will see to you. Goodnight, Miss Harper.’
‘Goodnight, Mrs Gargrave.’ Violet inclined her head with exaggerated politeness. ‘I’m very grateful. To you, too, Eliza.’
She stood, smiling and motionless until the door closed behind them, then scurried across to the tea tray, tucking into the sandwiches and gulping the tea down with relish. She hadn’t eaten anything all day and her empty stomach had been making gurgling sounds all the way upstairs.
Satiated at last, she made her way to the nightstand, poured some water into a basin and scrubbed her face and neck vigorously. That felt better. Strangely enough, she didn’t feel the least bit tired any more. Quite the opposite, she felt restored and reinvigorated, and now she was free she had absolutely no intention of staying where she was told, no matter what Mrs Gargrave suggested. As long as she avoided the drawing room, what better time to explore the house than when everyone else was in bed? It might be useful to work out an escape route.
Before she did anything, however, it was best to be prepared. Quickly, she rummaged in the dresser for her shawl and wrapped it around her shoulders on top of her other clothes. She still hadn’t removed her cloak and she didn’t intend to just yet. She wouldn’t put it past Captain Amberton to lock her up again if he found her and this time she intended to stay warm, even if it meant wearing all her clothes at once. Finally she picked up a candle and opened the door, listening at the crack for a few seconds before stealing out into the corridor.
The house seemed to echo with silence as she crept along the landing, down the first flight of stairs and back to the main staircase. Heart beating erratically, she waited at the top of the banisters for a few moments, straining her ears, but there were no sounds, not as much as a faint murmur of voices in the background.
A tingle of apprehension ran down her spine. If she hadn’t know better, she would have thought the entire place abandoned. In the near darkness, it looked full of mysterious shapes and shadows that made her want to rush headlong back to the safety of her room, but that was what the old, timid Violet would do. The new Violet steeled her nerve instead and made her way determinedly down the staircase to the front door. As she’d expected, it was locked.
She turned around, resting the back of her head against the wood as she surveyed the great hall. The fire in the grate was low, so that only half of the room was illuminated, the rest of it shrouded in an eerie, uncanny gloom.
Or was it? She took a few steps forward, screwing her eyes up to be certain. There was one other source of light, a thin orange glow emanating from beneath one of the doors that led off from the hall. It was the room Captain Amberton had stormed out of earlier, just before he’d dragged her upstairs. Was that the drawing room? She put her candle down on the central table and tiptoed towards it, pressing her ear against the wood. Silence. Was he inside? Mrs Gargrave had said so, but then it was possible that he’d gone to bed in the meantime. Failing that, he might have fallen asleep. She felt a sudden overpowering urge to find out, to see the inside of the monster’s lair, if not the monster himself.
Cautiously she wrapped her fingers around the door handle and twisted, ignoring the voice of common sense that told her to walk, if not run, away as she opened the door and peered nervously around the edge, letting out a breath of relief as she did so. The room appeared to be empty, though it was nothing at all like she would have expected, far more inviting than a monster’s lair, albeit with a distinctly masculine feel, with walls of gleaming mahogany wood, half-a-dozen burgundy leather armchairs, two green-velvet sofas and deep crimson-coloured rugs and curtains.
Intrigued, she took a few steps inside. The fashion for trinkets seemed to have completely passed the room by. There were no extraneous ornaments, nor as much as a lace doily in sight, just two large sideboards on which stood an impressive selection of bottles, empty glasses and books. The only decorations were a few paintings dotted around the walls, mostly of horses, and one landscape, a view of Whitby Bay, hanging over the still furiously roaring fire.
That was when she caught sight of him, sprawled in an armchair by the fireside, one booted foot propped up on a stool with the other stretched out in front of him, his chiselled features half-obscured by the sweeping locks of his unkempt dark hair. She froze instantly, afraid that he might have heard her, though by the regular rise and fall of his chest, he was fast asleep.
She waited a few moments to be sure before moving closer, slowly and steadily, hardly able to believe her own daring. For some reason, she wanted a closer look. Now that his anger had dissipated, temporarily at least, he looked strikingly handsome again, although the effect was somewhat spoiled by the pungent aroma of cigar smoke and whisky that filled the air around him.
Her foot bumped against an empty decanter lying beside his chair and she frowned down into his face. It was still recognisably that of the charming young officer she’d met five years before, only slightly more weatherbeaten, with lines etched into his forehead and between his thick brows that she didn’t remember—too many, as if his burdens had increased tenfold since then. But then, a lot had happened in the meantime. His banishment, the loss of his father and brother, his injury... Were they lines of dissipation or of grief?
‘Ah, Miss Harper.’ His voice was so low it was almost a growl. ‘My reluctant fiancée. Taking a good look?’
Chapter Four
Violet leapt backwards, stifling a cry of surprise as a pair of bloodshot, golden-brown eyes sprang open.
‘I thought you were aslee
p.’ She pressed a hand to her chest, trying to calm her frantically pounding heartbeat.
‘Sleeping lightly is one of the first things you learn in the army. That, and to know when you’re being watched. Or hunted.’
‘Hunting would imply that I wanted to capture you.’ She tossed her head resentfully. ‘And I’ve already told you that I don’t.’
‘It might also suggest a desire for revenge. There’s a suit of armour around here somewhere. I thought you might have borrowed a weapon.’
‘Unfortunately I didn’t notice. Maybe next time.’
There was a brooding silence while they regarded each other, the wood in the fireplace crackling and spitting as if it were trying to break the tension between them. She tensed one leg, ready to flee if he made a lunge, but he didn’t look as if he had the energy to move, let alone manhandle her again. His posture looked indolent, almost as if he were about to go back to sleep, although she had the unnerving impression that he was of aware of everything she was thinking.
Then he grinned, revealing a row of gleaming white teeth, and she let herself relax slightly. At least his temper seemed to be under control, even if his smile looked even more dangerous somehow...
‘Did you come to thank me for letting you out?’
‘To thank you?’ From the tone of his voice she could tell he was taunting her, though she still couldn’t help spluttering with outrage. ‘You were the one who locked me in!’
‘For your own good.’
‘What part of dragging me upstairs and locking me in a freezing cold tower was for my own good?’
He shrugged. ‘The dragging part and the cold I apologise for. The rest was to stop you acting like a child.’
‘I am not a child!’
‘You ran away across the moors without any thought or long-term plan for the future. I’d call that pretty childish.’
‘I had a plan.’ She hoped he couldn’t tell she was lying. ‘I’ve just no intention of sharing it with you.’
‘If you want me to let you go, then I’d suggest that you do.’
She gritted her teeth, trying to control her own temper this time. She almost wished he were angry again. His smilingly indifferent tone was doubly infuriating. ‘You’ve no right to make any demands. Or do you think that locking me up is some sign of maturity?’
‘No, it’s a sign of too much brandy. Though in my defence, I was acting under intense provocation. I’d had a particularly trying morning.’
‘You did?’
He laughed, tossing his hair back to reveal almost ludicrously sculpted cheekbones. ‘I trust that you prefer your new quarters?’
She glared back at him. ‘I do, though I believe the credit belongs to Mrs Gargrave.’
‘My fearsome housekeeper, yes. Has she warned you to barricade your door tonight?’
‘No.’ She hesitated, then couldn’t resist asking, ‘Why would she?’
‘Why?’ There was a distinctly wicked glint in his eye as he answered. ‘Because I doubt there’s any depravity she thinks I wouldn’t stoop to, molesting virgins in their sleep among them. I’d be quite curious to know what she imagines actually, but I assure you you’re perfectly safe in this house. As I explained earlier, my intentions are entirely honourable.’
She swallowed nervously, trying to hide her shock at his casual tone. How could he talk about molesting virgins so brazenly?
‘Honourable or not, I’ve already given you my answer. And if you think that letting me out of a locked room is enough to persuade me to marry you, then you’re very much mistaken.’
‘I don’t. It only occurred to me that it might prove difficult to marry a block of ice. It’s a strange kind of wooing, I know, but the whole idea of marriage is new to me. How is a man supposed to propose?’
‘I’ve no idea. All I can tell you is that however you do it, my answer will be the same.’
He gave another infuriating laugh. ‘Do you know, I always suspected you had claws, Miss Harper. I just didn’t realise they were quite so sharp.’
She blinked in surprise. What did that mean? Since when had anyone suspected her of being anything other than a timid and obedient daughter? Not that it was relevant now, but still it seemed—felt—like a compliment, as if he’d seen something in her that no one else had.
She pushed the thought away and pulled her shoulders back, trying to look as resolute as possible.
‘I won’t marry you, Captain Amberton, no matter what the cost to my reputation. You might as well let me go.’
‘You’re absolutely right. And since you asked so nicely, you’re free to leave.’
‘Really?’ She gave a small start. ‘Do you mean it?’
‘By all means. You can leave this very moment with no hard feelings.’
‘Just like that?’
‘Just like that. Though, of course, I can’t provide any kind of transport in this weather and it’s five miles to Whitby, but feel free.’ He leaned back in his chair with a sleepy expression. ‘By the by, have you looked outside this evening?’
‘No.’ She walked quickly to one of the windows and wrenched back the curtains, heart sinking as she looked out.
‘It’s a full moon, I believe.’ He gave an exaggerated yawn. ‘That should be enough to see by.’
Violet tightened her knuckles over the edge of the windowsill. The storm had passed, but the moon was bright enough for her to see the good four feet of snow heaped up on the terrace outside, all but obscuring her view of the garden. She couldn’t have been imprisoned any more effectively if she’d still been locked in the tower.
‘I hope you packed some sturdier boots than the ones you were wearing this morning.’ His voice was a languid drawl. ‘If you still want to leave, that is?’
‘More than ever!’ She swung around furiously. ‘Just as soon as it’s light.’
‘As you wish. In which case...’ he reached down and scooped the empty decanter up off the floor ‘...why don’t we get to know each other in the meantime? There’s a bottle of whisky on the sideboard. Care to join me?’
‘No, thank you.’
‘Ah...’ He heaved his foot off the stool with a sigh. ‘I forgot that you disapprove.’
‘I do.’ She put out a hand to stall him. ‘But since it’s impossible for me to disapprove of you any more, I’ll fetch you a drink.’
‘Taking pity on an injured man?’
She didn’t answer as she stalked across to the sideboard and poured some dark amber liquid into a fresh glass, holding it out at arm’s length so that he had to lean forward to reach it.
‘Thank you, Miss Harper.’ His fingers brushed lightly against hers for a second before she snatched them away. ‘I suppose it’s best that you keep a clear head. You’ve a long walk ahead of you in the morning.’
She narrowed her eyes resentfully. ‘Don’t think that I won’t.’
‘I wouldn’t dream of naysaying you, but why don’t you sit down for a while first? I won’t bite, no matter what Mrs Gargrave says. I feel like I’m being interrogated with you standing there.’
‘I prefer to stand.’
He let out a long sigh. ‘Forgive my manners, Miss Harper, but would you please be so kind as to sit down?’
She hesitated for another moment and then perched warily on the edge of the velvet sofa opposite. It felt wonderfully soft and inviting, not to mention so cosy in front of the fire that she was almost tempted to relax her guard and curl her legs up beneath her. Almost. But he seemed to be watching her, eyes aglow with a look of such strange and sudden intensity that she felt her temperature start to rise.
‘That’s better.’ He dropped his gaze after a few seconds and nodded. ‘I’m glad we understand each other at last, Miss Harper.’
‘Do we?’
‘A little, I think. This morning I acted on the presumptio
n that there was a certain...aspect about me that you found objectionable. Immodest as it sounds, the thought of it being my character never occurred to me.’
‘I don’t understand. What did you think my objection was?’
‘Honestly? I assumed that some women might resent shackling themselves to a man with only one working leg.’
‘But that’s horrible!’ She shot to her feet again in outrage. ‘I would never think such a thing!’
‘You called me a beast.’
‘I meant you, not your leg!’
There was a momentary silence before he threw back his head and roared with laughter.
‘What is it?’ She stared at him in bewilderment. She’d never been so deliberately, unpardonably rude to anyone in her whole life and he was laughing? ‘What’s so funny?’
‘Just that you find my character so objectionable. I applaud your good judgement.’ He rubbed a hand across his face as if he were trying to control his own mirth. ‘Although it might reassure you to know that we’ve something in common. I wouldn’t want to marry me either.’
‘So you don’t mind what I said?’
‘Not at all. I perfectly agree with your estimation, though I’m curious to know what exactly you’ve heard about me? It must have been perfectly scandalous.’
She folded her hands primly. ‘I told you before.’
‘Gambling and women again?’
‘They aren’t things I care to repeat.’
‘Then I’ll take that as a yes. Although, with all due respect, that gossip refers to the past. A man can change, can’t he?’
‘He can, though I find it hard to believe from a beast who locked me up in a tower.’
‘Good point.’ He took a mouthful of whisky and then peered dolefully into the cup. ‘I had hoped for a full measure.’
‘I’ll get you another if you answer a question.’
‘Just one?’ His eyes glittered with amusement. ‘I suppose that’s fair. What would you like to know? Ask anything you like.’
Captain Amberton's Inherited Bride Page 7