If only she knew where to begin...
‘It wasn’t entirely Percy’s fault, Aunt. I behaved very badly.’
‘Oh, I doubt that. Have a macaroon.’
‘You don’t understand.’ She took a deep, faltering breath. ‘He wants me to marry Charles Lester.’
‘Lester?’ Aunt Sophoria paused with a biscuit halfway to her lips. ‘That vain old buffoon? Don’t be ridiculous.’
‘You don’t like him?’
‘Never have, never could. He used to hang around your mother when she was a girl, too. I used to chase him away then. What on earth is Percy thinking?’
‘They’ve become close this past year. That’s why Percy brought me here. They arranged it together.’
‘Ah. I did wonder about your brother’s sudden enthusiasm for visiting me after ten years. So Lester’s in on it, then?’
Ianthe lifted her shoulders and then dropped them again despairingly. ‘Percy says he’s going to propose, but I don’t understand it. I’ve done nothing to encourage him and it’s not as if I have money or connections. It can’t be love, I’m sure of it.’
‘Love?’ Her aunt chewed on a macaroon thoughtfully. ‘No, love isn’t a sentiment I’d associate with Charles Lester.’
‘He scares me, Aunt.’ She gave an involuntary shudder, trying to put all the things she’d scarcely dared think about into words. ‘He watches me so intently all the time, like he’s hungry, but as if it’s not really me he’s looking at either. It’s like it’s me, but not me that he wants. I don’t know how else to explain it.’
Aunt Sophoria screwed up her mouth for a moment before patting her hand reassuringly. ‘Well, if you don’t like him then that’s an end to it and we’ll tell your brother so together. As for Lester, don’t worry, I know how to handle him.’
Ianthe put down her tea, flinging her arms around her aunt’s neck with a sob of relief. ‘Oh, thank you, Aunt. I was so afraid you’d agree with Percy.’
‘As if I ever could!’ Aunt Sophoria gave her a tight squeeze. ‘Honestly, men! I ought to box both their ears.’
Ianthe laughed before sitting back again with a guilty expression. ‘That wasn’t all I was upset about, I’m afraid. You see, there was another man on the train.’
An image of Mr Felstone’s sternly handsome features flashed before her eyes, making her hesitate. Perhaps it was better not to tell her aunt about him. In the cold light of day the whole thing sounded ridiculous, as if she’d simply imagined it. Was it possible that she’d somehow misunderstood his proposal? That she’d been so angry that she’d somehow...misheard?
She frowned, thinking over their argument. No, he’d definitely called her a schemer before he’d asked her to marry him. A business proposal, he’d called it, though surely he couldn’t have been serious. No sane man would suggest such a thing to a woman he’d only just met, no gentleman certainly. And yet...he’d seemed sane. He’d even seemed like a gentleman. So why had he said it? At the time she’d assumed that he’d been mocking her, taking advantage of their isolated situation to make fun of her dowdy appearance. Now, after a solid night’s sleep, she felt more confused than ever.
‘You mean Mr Felstone?’ Aunt Sophoria picked up the last macaroon and popped it between her lips.
Ianthe’s mouth dropped open. ‘How do you know that?’
‘Percy told me that part.’
‘So you know I quarrelled with him, too?’
‘Oh, yes, but I wouldn’t worry about it. Mr Felstone’s very civil, nothing if not a gentleman. I’m sure he won’t hold it against you.’
‘Civil?’
‘A bit stern, perhaps, but charming when he wants to be. The older I get, the more invisible I seem to become, especially to men, but Mr Felstone’s always very attentive. He’s considered quite the catch around here despite his background, not that anyone’s managed to land him just yet.’
Ianthe gaped at her aunt, slack-jawed in disbelief. Civil and charming were the last words she would have used to describe him. Did the man have an evil twin, perhaps? If he were even half the gentleman her aunt seemed to think, then surely he wouldn’t have made fun of her so callously, not unless...
She shook her head, resisting the idea. It was impossible. His proposal couldn’t have been genuine...could it?
She racked her brains, searching for another alternative. ‘But is he quite sane, do you think?’
‘Sane? I should think so. He’s a self-made man, owns the biggest shipyard in Whitby, not to mention a whole fleet of merchant vessels. I think he might have something to do with the new ironworks, too, not to mention the railway. I don’t suppose one can be mad and achieve all that.’
‘Oh.’ She didn’t know what else to say, relieved that she hadn’t mentioned his proposal after all. She had the distinct impression that her aunt wouldn’t be quite so sympathetic if she denounced him, too. Though if all of that were true, why on earth had he proposed to her? Surely such an eligible bachelor could have his pick of available women. She felt a stab of resentment. He must have been mocking her after all. As if insulting her weren’t bad enough...
‘You know, his birth caused quite the scandal,’ Aunt Sophoria continued blithely. ‘His father was Lord Theakston.’
‘What’s so scandalous about that?’
‘Nothing at all,’ her aunt chuckled, ‘except that his mother wasn’t Lady Theakston. She never had any children, poor woman. They might have made up for being married to him, the old rogue.’
Ianthe leaned forward, intrigued despite herself. ‘So who was his mother?’
‘One of the housemaids. Not the first he dallied with either, nor the last, but once Lady Theakston found out she was having a baby, she turned her out on to the street.’
‘But that’s awful!’
‘It was, not that Theakston himself did anything to stop it. No one knew where she went after that. Then twelve years later, she and the boy popped up out of the blue in Whitby, he gets himself a job at old Masham’s shipyard, the old man takes a shine to him and before anyone knows it, he owns the whole place. The mother died soon afterward, and there was some kind of reconciliation with his father, but something must have gone wrong. I know they quarrelled before the old man died anyway.’
‘Oh.’ She still didn’t know what to say.
‘Do you know...?’ Aunt Sophoria tilted her head to one side suddenly. ‘You look so much like your mother this morning. I couldn’t see the resemblance last night, but now it’s quite uncanny. I could almost believe you were her again.’
Ianthe smiled, relieved at the change in subject. ‘My father always said we were doubles.’
‘So you are. My poor girl, this past year must have been very hard for you, losing your parents so close together.’
She bit her lip, trying to stop it from trembling. ‘He just seemed to give up without her.’
‘They always had too much romantic sensibility, the pair of them.’
‘Aunt!’
‘They did. He ought to have pulled himself together.’
‘Surely you don’t blame him for dying?’
Aunt Sophoria screwed up her mouth as if torn between two conflicting opinions. ‘No. I suppose not.’
Ianthe stared at her in shocked silence for a moment before bursting into peals of laughter. ‘Father always said you were wicked.’
‘Did he? How wonderful.