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‘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?’
