‘Did he know that you blamed him?’
He grimaced. ‘Subtlety was never my strong suit. Not that we saw each other very often. He just shut himself up in his study and we never spoke of it. We rarely spoke at all, and when we did, we argued. It’s strange, but in some ways, I suppose I behaved just like your father.’
Her face froze. ‘What do you mean?’
‘He blamed you for your mother’s death. I blamed my father.’
‘You were just a boy.’
‘I still took my grief out on someone who didn’t deserve it.’
‘True, but you loved him. You said so when you gave me my first tour of the house.’
‘So I did.’ Though the fact that she remembered took him by surprise.
‘Then maybe love and hate aren’t so far apart after all.’ Her brow creased thoughtfully. ‘If you could love him despite blaming him, then maybe my father loved me, too. I’ve always assumed that he didn’t, that love and resentment couldn’t go hand in hand, but maybe I was wrong. In which case, maybe he really did think he was protecting me from the world.’
‘Maybe he was frightened of losing you as well as your mother.’
‘So many maybes...’ She smiled sadly. ‘I never spoke to him about any of them either. Maybe I ought to have tried arguing back once in a while.’
‘Maybe I should have tried doing what I was told.’
‘Maybe again.’ She sat up straighter. ‘I know that my father resented me, but now I’d prefer to believe that he loved me as well. It would make it all seem less of a waste.’
‘Can you forgive him for blaming you?’
‘Yes.’ She didn’t hesitate. ‘I think that his heart was genuinely broken by my mother’s death. I don’t agree with what he did, but I can understand why he did it. Can you forgive your father?’
‘What is there to forgive? He didn’t love my mother, but he didn’t kill her.’
‘He could have reached out to you.’
‘I don’t think he was capable of that. I was the one who caused the rift between us.’
‘Is that why you were so wild, to get back at him?’
‘That would be the easy answer, though I suppose it was a kind of revenge. The family name meant a lot to my father so I set out to sully it. It was selfish and adolescent of me, but I wanted to embarrass him. I was always the wildest of my friends, the risk-taker. Poor Arthur was left to be the good one, the dutiful son, the one who bore all the pressure while I simply enjoyed myself. It was no wonder he snapped eventually. It took me a long time to understand that my behaviour was hurting more people than just my father. I was hurting everyone around me, but by the time I realised, it was too late. I acted like an immature boy for too long. I only really grew up eight months ago, just when it was too late to put anything right. I failed Arthur when he needed me. Everything that went wrong in my family was my fault.’ He met her gaze across the table. ‘You’re still finding out who you are, Violet, but I already know who I am—a worthless reprobate, just like my father said.’
‘No.’ Her voice sounded surprisingly firm. ‘What happened to your father and brother was tragic, but they were responsible for their own lives. You can’t blame yourself for everything that happened.’
He arched an eyebrow. If only it were so easy... If only there were some way to redeem himself... If only that was all there was to forgive...
‘You have to move on, Lance.’
He smiled at her optimism. ‘And how do you propose I do that?’
‘I have an idea.’ She tucked into the last of her salad. ‘Although you might not like it.’
‘I’m all ears.’
‘We’ll throw a ball.’
‘A ball?’ He felt as shocked as if he’d just been shot again.
‘Yes. I’ve only been to one and it didn’t go so well, if you recall?’
‘How could I forget?’
‘Then let’s go back to the start, as if we were meeting all over again.’
Back to the start... A fresh start... The idea was certainly tempting. The thought of the ballroom and all its memories appalled him, but perhaps she was right and it was time for them both to move on. Could he put the past behind him? He wanted to, and she seemed to want to do it with him, almost as if she wanted a real marriage, too. Having her at his side made it seem easier and at least this meant she wouldn’t be leaving again straight away...
‘So you’re not in a rush to go travelling again?’
‘No. I have a few other things I want to do first, like prove to the world I’m not a timid mouse any more.’
He lifted an eyebrow. ‘You’re not timid at all. In fact, I’m starting to think you might be more than I can handle. Very well, Mrs Amberton, if you want a ball, let’s throw a ball.’
Chapter Fifteen
‘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 walt
z. 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.’
Captain Amberton's Inherited Bride Page 19
