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‘You wouldn’t!’
He laughed pitilessly. ‘Of course I would.’
She dragged in a breath, glancing anxiously towards the door. She could hear voices out in the hall now, Mr Harper’s and Violet’s. She ought to go out and greet them. The lack of a proper reception would look bad enough already. But if she went now, then Sir Charles would surely follow. He’d tell them everything... And that was the only way that she could think of to stop him.
‘I promise I’ll leave with you tomorrow. Just give me a chance to persuade Mr Harper to sign the papers tonight. Then I’ll tell Robert everything. He’ll cast me off, you’re right, but there’ll be no risk of him stopping us. He won’t care where I go.’
‘You outwitted me once before, Ianthe.’ The Baronet looked contemptuous. ‘Why would I give you the chance to do it again?’
‘Because if you insist on me leaving tonight then I’ll never forgive you. I’ll fight you every moment we’re together and then I’ll run away. I’ll never be yours.’
‘And if I let you wait until tomorrow?’
‘Then I won’t fight. I’ll come willingly.’ Somehow she forced the words past her lips. ‘I’ll do whatever you say.’
Sir Charles studied her in silence for a few moments. ‘Do you know, I think you really mean it.’
‘I do mean it. Just let me go now.’
‘All right, I’ll send my carriage at dawn. You have until then. Otherwise I’ll make sure that everyone in Whitby knows the truth about you by breakfast.’
‘I’ll be ready.’
‘Good. Then we understand each other. You won’t get away from me this time, Ianthe.’ His face seemed to sharpen suddenly, becoming pointed and falcon-like, before smoothing out again just as quickly. ‘Now you’d better go and see to your guests. You don’t want to keep them waiting.’
Chapter Eighteen
Robert staggered out of the tavern, clutching the door frame and wincing as the evening light assaulted his eyeballs. Perhaps that last cup of ale had been a mistake after all, he conceded. Not that he was completely drunk, not yet. He was still lucid enough to feel pain whenever he thought of his wife, which was still far too often, no matter how much he tried to drown her out of his thoughts.
Even now, he had the fanciful impression that one of the men walking along the quayside towards him had the same face as her, the same large doe eyes and dark blond hair. Even more strangely, the man was looking at him with recognition, too, as if they were already acquainted. He screwed up his eyes, trying to make sense of it. Was he imagining things now?
‘Percy?’ The answer hit him at the last moment.
‘Felstone?’ From the startled look on the youth’s face, it was hard to tell which of them was the most surprised. ‘Is that you?’
Robert felt a flash of annoyance. Of course it was him. Though he supposed he could understand the lad’s confusion. He was still wearing his dishevelled clothes from the rescue, and as for his behaviour...well, he wasn’t exactly his usual self-contained, respectable self. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been drunk in public—drunk at all, for that matter.
‘What are you doing here, Percy?’
The youth’s expression altered at once. ‘I need to speak with Ianthe. Is she at home?’
‘I expect so.’ Robert heaved a sigh. ‘We’re having a dinner party tonight.’
‘You are?’
He ignored the youth’s sceptical expression. ‘Some time around now, I should imagine. Come on, I’ll walk with you.’ He took a step forward and lost his footing, catching hold of the wall as the ground started to sway beneath him. For a fleeting moment he thought he was back on the lifeboat again. Before his world had really collapsed.
‘I say, I think you might want to wait a bit.’
‘You might be right.’ Robert leaned back against the tavern wall, half-closing his eyes. ‘So what’s so important that you had to come in person? You didn’t even come to our wedding.’
‘No, sorry about that. Work, you know. As for now...’ Percy’s expression turned shifty. ‘There’s just something I need to tell her.’
‘Such as?’
‘It’s private, I’m afraid... Ow!’
He yelped as Robert grabbed him fiercely by the collar and pushed him up against the wall.
