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She looked up at him imploringly, and he felt his resolve weaken. Both reasons were convincing, though he still had the feeling that she was holding something back. The edge of desperation in her voice made him uneasy. As much as he wanted to be convinced, surely it was better to wait and be certain...
‘Three months, then. I’m afraid that I’ve too much work at the moment to make it any sooner.’
‘Can’t you reschedule?’
He frowned. ‘I have a lot of people depending on me, Ianthe. A lot of families.’
‘Oh.’ She looked contrite at once. ‘Of course. Forgive me, I was being selfish. Three months is perfectly acceptable.’
‘Then we’re agreed.’ He heaved a sigh of relief. As thin as she was, a pregnancy would surely be obvious in that time. And if he was being overly suspicious then so much the better. After all, the sooner they were married, the sooner he could buy Harper’s yard.
She nodded and a lock of fair hair tumbled forward, falling loosely over one eye. He reached out impulsively, intending to brush it aside and found himself cupping her cheek instead. To his surprise, she didn’t move away. Instead, she tilted her head, half-closing her eyes as she pressed her cheek against his fingers.
‘Three months then, Ianthe.’ Her skin felt so smooth he had to fight the urge to raise his other hand to join it. ‘I consider myself honour bound, but you should not.’
Her eyes fluttered open again. ‘I gave you my word. I won’t go back on it now.’
‘None the less, if you reconsider, a note to my business address in Whitby will be enough. I don’t know how often I’ll be able to visit, but with your permission, I’ll inform Giles of our engagement. Once he tells Kitty it should be announcement enough.’
‘I’m sure.’ She gave a knowing smile, drifting away from him gently as she opened the door. ‘Won’t you come inside? I know that my aunt will be pleased at the news.’
He hesitated, his fingers feeling strangely bereft. The idea of joining her inside was alarmingly tempting. Once they were inside, the door would shield them from view of the street, they’d be alone...
He scowled deliberately. What was the matter with him? He was acting more like a real suitor than a man of business. This was a business arrangement—he had to remember that—no matter how much he wanted to be alone with her.
‘I ought to get back to my meeting.’
Her face fell, and he found himself taking her hand, lifting it to his lips as he tried to make up for his brusque tone.
‘I’ll write to you, Ianthe.’
‘Will you?’ Her voice sounded faintly husky. ‘Then so will I.’
‘I’d like that.’ He looked down at her hand, knowing that he should drop it and walk away, yet leaning forward instead. What was he doing? He felt as though his mind were watching from a distance, a dispassionate observer as the rest of him moved closer, lured by those captivating doe eyes, a rich shade of toffee brown swirling with coffee-coloured depths...
Their lips touched and he felt a white-hot, tingling sensation, a rush of heat like quicksilver coursing through his veins. Instinctively, his arms swept around her, gathering her into an embrace as her lips moulded to his, even softer and sweeter than he’d imagined, sharing the kiss with equal enthusiasm, as if she shared the sensation, too.
He pulled back abruptly, senses reeling, shocked by the force of his desire.
‘Oh.’ She staggered against him, pressing a hand to her mouth with a suddenly stricken expression.
‘I’d better get back.’ He cleared his throat and made a formal bow, trying to make it seem as if their kiss had been a mere formality. As if he hadn’t just broken every rule of respectable behaviour. As if he didn’t want to do it again...
‘Goodbye then, Ianthe.’ He didn’t know what else to say.
‘Yes... Goodbye.’ She whirled on her heel, closing the door quickly behind her as if she were afraid he might follow.
Robert looked up and down the street, checking that no one else was around before swearing violently under his breath. That was that, then. He was an engaged man, engaged to a woman he hardly knew, who was definitely hiding something and who’d agreed to marry him for reasons he didn’t understand.
And he had absolutely no idea how he felt about any of it.
Chapter Nine
October 1865
Ianthe lowered the sash on the train window and peered out, letting out a long, deeply held sigh of relief as the port of Whitby finally appeared on the horizon, a cluster of red-and-white houses on either side of a wide cliff-walled harbour. Her new home, where her husband-to-be was waiting.
Finally.
