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For a few moments, Lance felt as though time had stopped and all three of them were held suspended, unsure of what to do next, the implications of his words echoing loudly in the air between them. There were so many emotions coursing through him that he wasn’t sure which was dominant, only he was aware of a strong undercurrent of panic.
Arthur was the heir. Arthur was alive. Which had been astonishing and incredible and wonderful all at the same time, yet the panic was still threatening to overwhelm him. The realisation brought with it a stab of guilt. How could he feel panic now of all times? The brother he loved, that he’d thought he’d lost, was alive. That was a cause for celebration, not panic. He ought to be jumping with joy, but instead all he could think of was Violet.
She’d been supposed to marry the heir. That was what his father had wanted, what her father’s will itself had stated. Now that Arthur had returned, all of it would be called back into question. There would be lawyers and courts and precedents and rival claimants all clamouring over her inheritance. Would she lose the money after all? Did he care? The thought brought him up short. No, he didn’t give a damn about the money. He wanted it for the estate, that much was still true, but if it came to a choice between Violet and her inheritance then there was no choice. He wanted her.
But what could he offer her in return? On his own he was just a disgraced former soldier. If he hadn’t deserved her before, then he certainly didn’t deserve her now. She deserved to keep her fortune and her freedom, too, to be mistress of Amberton Castle, but with a better man at her side—Arthur.
He felt an ache in his chest as if his heart were really breaking in two. Maybe this was his real test, the way for him finally to make amends. This was the pain he deserved. After last night, however, he had a feeling she wouldn’t just accept that, not unless he made her—unless he pushed her away. If he could bring himself to do it.
‘You can’t just leave again, Arthur.’ He forced himself to speak calmly.
‘I can now that I know you’re all right.’
‘So that you can pretend to be dead again? I won’t take your inheritance.’
‘You’re not taking, I’m giving it to you. If I stay away for seven years, then it’ll be yours anyway. I don’t have to be gone for ever.’
‘No.’ He held Arthur’s gaze, his own intractable. ‘I’ll go to the authorities and tell them you’re still alive if
you try to leave again. Father wanted you to run the estate. He wanted you to be his heir.’
‘Why do you think I ran away?’
‘He wanted you to marry Violet, too.’
‘It’s too late for...’
‘No, it’s not.’
‘What?’
It was Violet who spoke this time and he turned reluctantly to face her.
‘We can get a divorce.’
‘On what grounds?’ She looked as though he’d just threatened to push her down the stairs and his heart twisted.
‘Deceit. You can say that you were misled, that you were tricked into marrying me when the rightful heir was still alive.’
‘I’ll say no such thing!’
‘You have to. Otherwise, your inheritance might be forfeit.’
He heard her draw a sharp intake of breath. ‘My inheritance?’
‘Yes.’ The look of hurt and betrayal on her face made him feel sick, but he kept going. ‘You married the wrong man. I’m not the heir.’
Her eyelids flickered. ‘So you want me to put you aside and then...what?’
He clenched his jaw, forcing himself to utter the worst. ‘Then the two of you can marry. It’s what both our fathers wanted, what ought to have happened in the first place. It might be the only way to secure the money.’
There was a heavy silence before she spoke again, her voice sounding almost unnaturally, eerily calm.
‘In that case, I’ll return to Whitby in the morning.’
‘What?’ Arthur’s face was aghast. ‘Have the pair of you gone mad? This is ridiculous.’
‘It’s the best thing for everyone. I don’t want to be the heir, Arthur.’ He limped slowly towards the drawing room, pausing briefly in the doorway before slamming the door shut behind him. ‘I never wanted it and especially not like this!’
