A business arrangement, Ianthe thought silently, not that she disagreed with her aunt’s assessment. She could hardly remember what Robert looked like. She’d expected to see him at least once before the wedding, but according to his letters he’d been travelling, first to London, then Liverpool and Glasgow, then busy negotiating with Mr Harper. That had been almost all he’d written about. She’d learned nothing of importance from his letters, nothing about the man she intended to marry—no more than he’d learnt from her staid, largely weather-based replies.
Not that she had anything else to tell him. Except for a few shopping excursions with Kitty, she’d barely left her aunt’s house over the past three months, waiting in a state of heightened nervous tension for something—she wasn’t sure what—to happen, but expecting it none the less. The day after he’d left she’d spent practically glued to her aunt’s side, afraid of a visit from Sir Charles, though he hadn’t come that day or the next.
After a week, relief had turned to a new kind of anxiety, unnerving enough that she’d finally asked Percy where the Baronet was, though he’d been uncharacteristically reticent on the subject. She’d sent him word of her engagement almost straight away, but he hadn’t shown his face for another two days, finally showing up with a large black-and-purple bruise over his left eye—another subject he’d refused point-blank to discuss.
When she’d finally summoned up the nerve to ask about Sir Charles, his response had been near venomous.
‘But where is he?’ she’d persisted in asking anyway, needing to know.
‘He said he was going back to London for a while, not that it’s any of your business.’
‘What do you mean a while?’
‘I don’t know!’ Percy’s ill temper had hardly diminished since the ball. ‘And you’ve no right to ask. You’ve hurt him enough.’
‘I’ve hurt him?’ She felt stung by the injustice of it.
‘Yes. He said he expected more of you. So did I for that matter. You’ve made my life difficult enough as it is.’
‘What do you mean?’
But Percy had only shaken his head and pouted. ‘Nothing, but he blames me for this whole mess, too, you know. I as good as told him you were willing. You might have thought about that!’
‘You had no right to tell him any such thing.’
‘In any case, he doesn’t approve of your choice either. You know if it were anyone else he might have stayed to fight for you, but Mr Felstone has quite a disreputable reputation. Typical of you to prefer a jumped-up merchant to a baronet! It’s no wonder Charles is angry. I’d be offended, too.’
‘Good. If he’s offended, then I’m glad!’
‘In any case, he says he’s not ready to see you again yet.’
The words had chilled her to the bone. ‘Yet?’
Percy had refused to discuss the subject any more, returning to London without so much as a by-your-leave and leaving her to wonder and worry on her own, anxiously reliving the events at the castle, both Sir Charles’s attack and what he’d said about her parents. Thinking back over her childhood, she’d found nothing to suggest that her mother had been unhappy, let alone pining for another man, and yet he’d spoken with such conviction.
The words had haunted her, waking her up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat, along with memories of the way he’d looked at her, the way he’d dragged at her skirts as he’d forced his tongue inside her mouth. She’d wanted to tell her aunt, but then she’d had a feeling that the old woman wouldn’t take such news lightly, and now that she knew what the Baronet was capable of, that he was violent as well as obsessed...
No, it was her secret, she’d decided, no matter how much she wanted a shoulder to cry on. She didn’t want to involve her aunt any more than she wanted her new fiancé defending her honour. Despite rescuing her at the ball, Robert had made it clear that he wanted a business partner, not a damsel in distress, and he certainly wouldn’t want to become embroiled in her family’s sordid affairs. Besides, she was the one who’d gone to the castle alone and unchaperoned, something a sensible, respectable woman ought never to have dreamt of doing. As angry as he’d be at Sir Charles, he might not approve of her behaviour either, might use it as an excuse to call off the wedding.
Overall, she’d concluded, it was better for everyone that she stayed silent. Once she was married, she could put the whole nightmare behind her. Sir Charles would never dare to attack Mrs Felstone and then her dreams would finally stop. She could go back to being herself again—the new, respectable version of herself anyway... Just as long as Robert hadn’t changed his mind.
It had felt like the longest three months of her life.
‘You look troubled, dear.’ Aunt Sophoria patted her knee sympathetically. ‘Is there anything you’d like to ask me about?’
‘No!’ Ianthe answered hastily. Her aunt had already provided an embarrassing amount of detail about what to expect on her wedding night, making her doubly glad that it was only a business arrangement. She’d no desire to sit through that conversation again, though she was curious to know how her spinster aunt had come across quite so much detailed information.
‘I keep telling you, Aunt, it’s not like that.’
‘If you say so, dear.’
‘It’s not! It’s a business arrangement.’
‘And I’m not supposed to tell anyone. Yes, dear, I remember.’
Ianthe rolled her eyes in frustration. No matter how many times she told her aunt that it wasn’t a love match, she simply refused to believe it. Even Robert’s lengthy absence hadn’t dented her rose-tinted perspective. On the contrary, she’d taken the fact of their short engagement as evidence that he was eager to do more than just see her...
She glanced out of the window, relieved to find that they were already rolling into the station. At least that ought to stop her aunt from offering any more advice.
‘So we’re going straight to the ceremony?’ Aunt Sophoria reached into her reticule, pulling out a large frilly handkerchief.
‘Yes, Robert said he’d meet us under the clock with Kitty and Giles.’
‘Is that everyone?’
‘Yes, Aunt.’ They’d been over this before as well. ‘We wanted to keep it small. He doesn’t have any family and I’ve only got you.’
‘What about his business associates?’
‘This is the way we want it. It would look strange if he had lots of guests on his side.’
‘I suppose so.’ Her aunt sighed dramatically. ‘Though it’s such a shame Percy couldn’t be here.’
‘He said he couldn’t take any more time off work, but it’s all right, Giles is going to give me away.’
‘Well, in that case...’ Aunt Sophoria waved her handkerchief in the air. ‘I’d better keep this ready. Just the thought of a wedding makes me cry.’
‘There’s nothing to cry about! Honestly, Aunt, I just wish it were over.’
‘I wouldn’t let Mr Felstone hear you say that. What would he think?’
Ianthe grimaced. She’d no idea what her fiancé would think. Three months before, when they’d discussed terms in the ballroom, she’d thought that she had a reasonable sense of the man behind the stern, business-driven exterior. Now she felt as though she were on her way to marry a stranger.
‘I don’t care what he thinks.’ She pushed the carriage door open angrily, looking back over her shoulder for one final outburst. ‘And love has nothing to do with it!’
‘I’m pleased to see you again, too, Ianthe.’
She froze, turning her head slowly towards the sound of Robert’s deep, irony-laced voice. He was standing in the open doorway, regarding her with an impenetrable expression.
‘I didn’t mean...’ She felt her cheeks turn a vivid shade of scarlet. ‘That is... Good morning.’
‘G
ood morning.’ He lifted an eyebrow along with his top hat. ‘Are you ready?’
‘I... Yes.’ She caught her breath unsteadily. So much for pleasantries. He looked both heart-stoppingly handsome and sternly forbidding at the same time, dressed impeccably in a suit of black superfine cloth with a quilted silk waistcoat beneath.
‘Well, then.’ He reached past her, helping her aunt down on to the platform first before offering a hand to her. ‘Shall we?’
Ianthe swallowed, trying to maintain some sense of composure. He didn’t look particularly pleased to see her—though given what she’d just said she could hardly blame him—his all-black outfit giving him the look of a man attending a funeral rather than his own wedding. Was he angry with her, then? He’d no right to be. She hadn’t said anything he wouldn’t agree with.
‘Is there a problem?’ His eyes narrowed slightly when she didn’t move.
‘Not at all. I’m perfectly happy to proceed.’ She gave him a meaningful look. ‘If you are.’
‘I am.’
‘Oh...’ His swift answer made her feel foolish even for asking. ‘Because I thought we should talk first. It’s been a while and—’
‘We’ll be late, Ianthe.’ He sounded impatient. ‘I prefer not to miss appointments. So if this is your way of telling me that you’ve changed your mind, I’d prefer it if you got straight to the point.’
‘It’s not!’ She bristled indignantly. ‘I just...’
‘Then we’re wasting time and my time is valuable. I have other things to do today besides this.’
This...? This...? She didn’t know whether to feel relieved or furious at his response. He was talking about this as if it were simply a minor event, an irksome interruption in his busy workload. Clearly she’d overestimated his motives for not visiting her. Here she’d driven herself half-crazy with worry and self-recrimination when all he’d been thinking about was business! He hadn’t been ignoring her because he’d changed his mind about marriage. He simply hadn’t thought about her—or their kiss—at all!
She wasn’t sure which was worse.
She pushed past him, ignoring his outstretched hand as she climbed out of the carriage. He responded by grasping her fingers instead, practically hauling her along the platform to where Aunt Sophoria was already waiting with Kitty and Giles.
She took a sharp intake of breath, almost running to keep up as a torrent of conflicting emotions raced through her body. On the one hand, she was still furious. On the other, it was impossible to ignore the heated, spine-tingling sensation that seemed to pass from his fingers into hers, making her stomach quiver with excitement. After three months, she’d hoped that the feeling, whatever it was, might have passed, but it was still there, as potent and unnerving as ever.
‘Ianthe!’ Kitty rushed forward to greet her, resplendent in a bright emerald-green gown that almost disguised a growing baby bump. ‘You look lovely.’
‘Thank you.’ She glanced down self-consciously. Her home-made efforts had seemed perfectly suitable that morning, though next to her smartly dressed fiancé they felt decidedly shabby.
‘We can talk about fashion later.’ Robert’s step didn’t falter. ‘I want to get this settled this morning.’
This! She threw Kitty an apologetic look as he swept her onwards, out of the station and into a waiting carriage, walking so fast that Aunt Sophoria finally had to beg him to slow down.
It wasn’t long before she realised why. Robert seemed to have organised everything to the exact minute, so that by the time she found herself on Giles’s arm, waiting for the ceremony to start, it was too late to turn back. There was no opportunity to speak in private, no chance hardly to catch her breath. The arrangement was sealed with a ruthless, businesslike efficiency.
* * *
The rest of the morning seemed to pass in a haze. They moved from the ceremony to a wedding luncheon at the Royal Hotel, not that she felt very hungry. More than anything, she realised with surprise, she wanted to sleep. Funny how she’d dreaded going to bed of late, afraid of the dreams that might wake her again, but now she felt as though she could sleep for a week, as if all the tension of the past few months had finally caught up with her. Thankfully, with Kitty and Aunt Sophoria present there was no shortage of conversation, though after a while she stopped listening, too tired to offer anything more than monosyllabic replies.
What was her husband’s excuse, then? she wondered. He was barely talking either, seeming to become sterner and more taciturn every time he glanced in her direction, which was often, though contrary to his earlier statement, he seemed in no rush to hasten the meal, ordering three courses as well as champagne.
As a result, it was the middle of the afternoon before all the toasts had been said and they were able to leave their guests at the station, sitting alone in their carriage in a silence that seemed to grow heavier and stonier with each passing moment. Ianthe found herself holding her breath, uncomfortably aware of her new husband’s proximity, beset by a combination of anxiety and unwanted excitement. Since saying ‘I do’ she doubted he’d spoken more than ten words to her directly. Was he displeased? Disappointed? Or was this just what he meant by a practical arrangement—one in which he could simply ignore her?
She opened her eyes as wide as she could, desperately trying to keep them open as a wave of exhaustion swept over her, though the effort seemed futile. Despite the cobblestone streets, the sway of the cab was actually lulling her to sleep. She could feel her head tipping to one side, searching for somewhere to rest...
* * *
‘We’re here.’
The soft tone of Robert’s voice, strikingly at odds with his earlier manner of speaking, drew her gently back to consciousness. With a wide yawn she opened her eyes, dismayed to find her face pressed up against a smooth, black jacket.
‘How long have I been asleep?’ She jolted upright at once.
‘Just a few minutes.’
‘Oh.’ She stifled another yawn. ‘Sorry.’
‘Still tired?’ He sounded vaguely concerned, but his eyes were full of shadows, their expression unreadable in the dark carriage.
‘A little.’ She gave a dismissive shrug. Little was an understatement. She’d never felt so exhausted in her life.
‘Then let’s get you to bed, Mrs Felstone.’
She gave a small start. It wasn’t the first time that she’d been called by her married name, but it sounded different coming from his lips, with a hint of possession that she found strangely exciting. On the other hand, the mention of bed was more than a little alarming. What did he mean, get her to bed? That definitely wasn’t part of their agreement, especially after his earlier behaviour! Or did he think that their kiss had altered the terms somehow?
‘On your own, of course.’ His lips curled sardonically as if he’d just guessed what she was thinking. ‘Love has nothing to do with it, remember?’ He jumped down from the carriage before she could answer. ‘In any case, I still have plenty of work to do today. You can get some rest as soon as I’ve introduced you to the staff.’
‘Staff?’ She followed him out on to the pavement and then stopped short, tilting her head up. And up. And up. ‘This is your house?’
‘Our house, yes.’
Ianthe opened her mouth and then closed it again. The rain had finally stopped and the afternoon sun was glinting off the slate roof, five storeys above. She’d never thought to ask him where he lived, but she’d expected it to be near the shipyard, somewhere down in the harbour itself. Instead he’d brought her up to the Royal Crescent, a sweep of large terrace houses set high above the north cliff, their gleaming white frontages facing straight out to sea.
‘Not what you expected?’
She shook her head, rendered speechless with amazement. Each house looked to be at least four times the size of the one where she’d grown
up, even bigger and grander than her employer’s in Bournemouth had been.
‘Did you believe the gossipmongers, then?’
‘What gossipmongers?’ She glanced at him warily, but he looked amused rather than angry.
‘The ones who say a man like me doesn’t belong in a place like this.’
‘Of course not! It’s just more than I expected, that’s all.’
‘Then welcome home, Ianthe.’
She smiled hesitantly, following him up the steps and through the front door into a vast, tiled hall. There was so much to take in, but at least the hard part of the day was over. Their wedding might not have been a great success, but at least it was over and done with. Now perhaps she could finally lie down, have a long sleep and... She exclaimed in surprise, the sight of a dozen people standing in a reception line almost making her turn around again.
‘This is Mrs Felstone.’ As if sensing her reticence, Robert took hold of her elbow, propelling her forward. ‘I hope you’ll all help her to feel at home here.’
For a moment, Ianthe’s heart misgave her. In her wildest imaginings she’d never pictured anything quite so intimidating. Kitty had said that Robert was rich, but she’d been too wrapped up in her worries to pay much attention to the other woman’s chatter. This was grander than anything she’d ever seen before. Her parents had kept a cook and one housemaid. She’d no experience of running a household this size. Quite the contrary—a few months before she’d been one of the staff herself, standing in line to greet Albert when he’d come home from university. And now here she was, mistress of an even greater house in her own right. Her head was already fuzzy with exhaustion. Now the change in her circumstances made her feel dizzy, too.
‘This is my housekeeper, Mrs Baxter.’ Robert was all business again, ushering her along the line briskly. ‘And my cook, Mrs Lughton.’
‘How do you do, Mrs Baxter?’ She resisted the tug of his arm, refusing to be moved on so quickly. No matter how overwhelmed she felt, she had to think of something to say.
The Convenient Felstone Marriage Page 12
