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‘It won’t be.’ Lance approach
ed her solemnly. ‘But now I believe that it’s time, Violet.’
She looked around at the three faces surrounding her. It was hard to tell which of them looked the most anxious, though oddly enough, the sight was reassuring. The fact that they cared enough to be anxious made her feel warm inside, despite the fluttering of nerves in her abdomen. It still wasn’t too late to change her mind, but she liked him, she trusted him—and she was going to marry him.
‘Yes.’ She took his arm, all her fears dissipating in the sudden warmth of his smile. ‘It is.’
Chapter Eleven
‘Welcome to your new home, Mrs Amberton.’ Lance caught Violet’s waist as she stepped down from the carriage and twirled her around in mid-air. ‘I hope this is a better welcome than I gave you the first or second times. Shall we say third time lucky?’
‘I hope so.’ She felt breathless as he set her back on her feet. ‘It’s been a strange day.’
‘It has, but it went well, I think.’
‘Yes.’
It really had, she thought with some residual amazement. With just Robert, Ianthe, Mr Rowlinson and Martin in attendance, their wedding had felt intimate, personal and unexpectedly moving. Lance had been uncharacteristically serious, too, reciting his vows with a depth of feeling that had taken her by surprise. When he’d dipped his head to kiss her at the end of the ceremony she’d almost imagined that it was all real and not simply a marriage of convenience. For one fleeting moment, it had felt real.
He captured her hand in his as they entered the hall. To her dismay, she felt even more nervous now walking beside him, just as she’d felt uncomfortably aware of his close proximity in the carriage on the journey back. Not that she ought to feel any more uncomfortable, she reminded herself. Nothing between them had changed, not really. They’d agreed that nothing about their relationship would be any different, not for seven years anyway, and yet despite that, something was. They were married. Somehow that made a big difference.
What had she done?
‘Captain Amberton. Mrs Amberton.’ Mrs Gargrave greeted them with a look that bordered on approval. ‘I’ll have some tea brought to the drawing room.’
‘That won’t be—’
‘Thank you, Mrs Gargrave.’ Violet cut short Lance’s refusal. ‘Tea would be perfect.’
‘It would?’ He held open the drawing-room door, murmuring in her ear as she brushed past.
‘Yes.’ She accelerated quickly, alarmed by the tingling sensation that raced through her body as his breath tickled her neck. ‘We had enough champagne with Ianthe and Robert.’
‘True, though I’m afraid it didn’t make any difference. Your best friend still hates me.’
‘She doesn’t hate you.’
‘She doesn’t like me.’
‘No-oo.’ She felt compelled to be honest. ‘But she doesn’t know you, not yet. She only knows stories about the old you. You seemed to get on well enough with Robert though.’
He made a non-committal sound and she stopped in the middle of the room, spinning around in surprise. ‘What’s wrong with Robert?’
‘Nothing, annoyingly. I’d like to detest the man, but I can’t.’
‘Why would you want to do that?’
‘For all the wrong reasons.’ Lance dropped into his armchair with a thud. ‘Because he’s intelligent and successful and has a wife who gazes at him adoringly.’
She blinked in surprise. ‘Do you want me to gaze at you adoringly?’
‘I could hardly expect that.’ He slouched further down in his chair and stared broodingly into the fire. ‘Only you don’t have to look at him in the same way, too.’
‘I do not! He’s Ianthe’s husband!’
‘Yes, and a paragon of male virtue. The man has no right to set such high standards.’
Violet took a seat on the sofa opposite, amused by his petulant tone. He sounded almost jealous, though surely he couldn’t be...could he?
