On The Shores 0f Tregalwen (A Cornish Romance Book 0.5)

by Deborah M. Hathaway

  “I am sure he would be very pleased with you continuing this tradition,” she said, motioning to the others. “Friends joining together for wonderful food and pleasant company. A chance to rest from their cares and troubles. He was always proud of you, and I’m certain he would be still.”

  “I hope so.” Thomas looked at her with his warm gaze. “Thank you, Hannah.”

  She cleared her throat. “Although, I think he would be rather displeased that you are socializing with me once again. Your father was not partial to me, I’m afraid.”

  “That isn’t true.” Thomas stared at his plate. “But your mother is not partial to me.” Hannah looked up at his sorrowful eyes. “That is why we stopped writing, was it not? Because your mother did not approve of you corresponding with a gentleman who could never be as fine as those in London?”

  Hannah struggled to find the right words, but what could she say when the truth was so obvious? The relaxed feeling between them faded away, reality settling in around her, and her shoulders fell.

  She stared down at her plate of food, moving to pick at a potato before realizing she wore her gloves. Her mother had never allowed her out in public without them, so Hannah had habitually put them on that evening.

  With a lip curled in disgust, she pulled her fingers free of the white silk, draping the gloves across her lap with a shake of her head.

  “Mother and I agree on very little,” she said. Her words were soft, and she wondered if Thomas had heard them before he responded.

  “And yet…you must have agreed in some regard. No doubt you both were in approval when you stopped writing me.”

  Hannah stared at him blankly. “Why, no. My mother encouraged me, of course, but I…I only stopped writing because you did.”

  He glanced at her sidelong. “Forgive me, Hannah, but I find that difficult to believe. I distinctly remember the last letter I sent to you, and the lack of response I received from it.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “No, I remember your last letter, as well. You wrote to me of the success you had in growing your crops that year.”

  “No, I wrote to ask you if I could…” His words ended in a sigh, and he shook his head.

  Hannah’s heart thudded against her chest. “To ask if you could what?” When Thomas hesitated again, she pushed further. “What did you ask, Thomas?”

  Finally, he met her gaze, an uncharacteristic vulnerability in his eyes. “I asked if I could come visit you in London.”

  “You what?” Hannah breathed.

  Thomas continued. “You did not reply, so I gathered you did not wish me to come. I assumed ignoring my letter was the easiest way for you to inform me of such.”

  Instantly, Hannah shook her head. Thomas had wanted to come to London to see her? She could hardly believe it. “I assure you, Thomas, I never received such a letter.”

  “You didn’t?”

  She could hear the hesitance in his tone and see it in his eyes. “No,” she said firmly. “Never.”

  But why had she not? A strange tension crept up her spine, and she nearly groaned. “Mother.” Of course it was her doing. Hannah should have known.

  “What about your mother?” Thomas asked.

  Hannah shook her head with dismay. “She must have taken your letters before I had the chance to see them. When I received no further word from you, I thought you wished to end our friendship. That is when I stopped writing, as well.”

  “How could you ever think that was true?” he asked.

  Hannah winced. “The same way you could think I did not wish you to visit me in London.”

  Their eyes met. Years of pain, of misunderstanding and heartache, hung between them. Neither of them had meant for their correspondence to end, neither of them had wished to hurt the other, but the damage had been done. Hannah could not help but long for the past when she and Thomas had spoken openly, comfortably. Before her intrusive mother had stretched her icy fingers around Hannah, altering her life…and Thomas’s.

  She glanced to Thomas, his eyes still upon her.

  “I suppose we would be better off not dwelling on the past,” he said. “Unless, of course, we think instead on the trouble we caused as children.” He paused, a soft smile curving his lips. “Do you remember how we used to explore the coves for buried treasure?”

  Hannah nodded, grateful for the change in topics. “Of course.”

  Thomas’s smile grew. “Baldwin could not comprehend where all of the silverware had gone.”

  Hannah shook her head, imagining the bewildered look upon the face of the Causeys’ butler. “Yet another one of your servants who must simply despise me. And for good reason.”

  “Well what else were we to use to dig the holes?” Thomas asked. “We needed the smaller spoons to not damage the gold we were going to come across.”

  “We could have at least brought them back to him. I’m sure if we go exploring in those old coves again, we’d find a whole set.” She beamed at his deep laughter, the tension from before fading away. “We did get into a fair bit of mischief, didn’t we? And it only grew as we did. Do you remember how we used to hide when my grandparents and your father would come out looking for us? The fields near your house proved very useful.”

  “As did the hedges near the manor.”

  “And that last summer, when they learned where to find us,” Hannah continued, “we took to sneaking out when everyone else had fallen asleep—”

  “And met here, at Tregalwen.”

  A sigh escaped her lips. “How I loved those nights, huddled together near the small fires you built, attempting to scare each other with tales of ghosts and other creatures of the night.”

  “Always at your suggestion,” Thomas added.

  “That was my idea, wasn’t it?” Hannah had not particularly enjoyed the ghost stories, but she did love the excuse to hold onto his arm as they frightened one another in the dark.

  She struggled to fight off the sadness threatening to come over her again as she thought of how simple her childhood had been. Would they ever escape the weight placed upon them both by her mother’s actions?

  “The mischievous ideas usually were yours,” Thomas said. “But I followed along without hesitation.”

  Hannah paused, narrowing her eyes at him and tilting her head to one side. “Why did you always follow along, Thomas?”

  The look in his eyes caused a fluttering in her stomach. “You know very well, Hannah, I never had the heart to tell you no.”

  His eyes, a golden green in the gilded sun, flickered to her lips, and her pulse quickened.

  “There is one thing, though, that I always suggested,” he said, putting down his plate, “that you could never say no to.” He smiled in her direction, a daring flash in his eyes. “What do you say to a horse race across the beach?”

  Chapter Six

  Thomas watched as Hannah’s eyes lit with excitement.

  “A horse race? Now?” she questioned.

  He nodded. “If I remember correctly, you mentioned, when last we met upon these shores, that you wished to race me on horseback. And I believe you said you intended to win.”

  She covered her face with her hands. “Oh, don’t remind me. I would never have made such a bold declaration had I known what my life would be like in London. I had very little time to ride at all.”

  “Your excuses shall not save you, Hannah,” he said, relishing the sight of her dimples deepening with her smile.

  “Excuses? They are facts, Thomas!” she said with a laugh. “I don’t have a horse, my gown is hardly suitable for riding, and I really have not ridden in months. Indeed, I was supposed to go with Mr. Hawkins and his friends, but I left before I could.”

  A strange knot settled in his stomach. “Mr. Hawkins?”

  Hannah’s face drained of all color, her eyes wide with shock. “Er, yes,” she stammered, “the, the son of my mother’s friend.”

  “Oh,” was all he said.

  He could see her scrambling to
change the subject, and a wariness washed over him. She had never mentioned any Mr. Hawkins in her early letters. Whoever he was, she had clearly not meant to mention him, and she obviously did not want to speak of him further.

  Her grandparents had said that Hannah was not attached to another, but…what if she had fallen in love only recently? Her mother, after all, must have pushed for an arrangement in London. The woman seemed to stop at nothing to prevent her daughter from placing permanent roots in Cornwall.

  Ignoring the heavy weight settling on his chest, Thomas fought again to capture the lighthearted feeling between them. “So, Hannah, do you accept my challenge of a race then?”

  She smiled weakly. “I don’t think I can, Thomas.”

  His happiness threatened to dash away at her refusal, but he shook his head, clicking his tongue with disappointment. “I never thought I would see the day when Hannah Summerfield would refuse a challenge. I was wrong earlier. Being in London has changed you.”

  A pained expression flashed across her face, and he watched her bury the tips of her boots into the sand.

  Thomas’s smile faded away. Had his teasing truly offended her? Or was she simply lingering on the gentleman she mentioned before or her mother’s despicable actions?

  “I’m sorry,” he said, pushing aside thoughts of the woman before his anger grew at her meddling. “I did not mean to upset you, Hannah.”

  She shook her head. “No, you are right. I have become someone I hardly recognize. But…I think I should like to try to return to who I was before. Excepting, of course, being a thief of silverware.”

  Thomas grinned as she set her half-eaten plate of food next to her and leapt to her feet. Her gloves that had been resting across her lap fell to the sand. The twinkle in her eye resembled how she appeared in the doorway of Leighton House, carefree, filled with joy, and his heart skipped a beat.

  “Mr. Causey, I accept your challenge.” She paused. “Oh, but I may need to borrow a horse…and a sidesaddle.”

  She looked around her as Thomas stood. “I brought two geldings with me to carry the food from Leighton House,” he said. “You may ride one of them, if you like. And as for a sidesaddle…” He looked to where a saddled dapple gray was tied near his own horses. “That one will do nicely.”

  Together, they walked to the other side of the fire, approaching Abigail, who sat forward with her chin on her palm, her other hand playing with a stray lock of her auburn hair.

  “Miss Moore?” Thomas began. The woman glanced up at them with indifference. “Might you allow Miss Summerfield the use of your sidesaddle for a moment?”

  Abigail pulled a face. “Whatever for?”

  “Mr. Causey here has challenged me to a race across the beach,” Hannah explained, drawing the attention of those around them. “You see, he won every race we had as children, and I should like the opportunity now to humble him.”

  “I need to leave for the lighthouse,” Abigail said, her gaze averted before she glanced up at Hannah with a half-smile, “but I suppose it can wait another moment or two.”

  While the sidesaddle was moved from Abigail’s horse to one of Thomas’s, news of the race traveled throughout the gathering. Mr. Moore pulled a stick across the sand to create a starting point. Several children began a footrace of their own across the beach. A few others gathered around where the race would begin while the older couples in attendance stood by with amused expressions.

  Thomas watched Hannah toss her bonnet and shawl atop her gloves in the sand.

  “You are determined this evening,” he said.

  With a raised brow, he removed his jacket and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt. Hannah laughed joyfully in response.

  They mounted the dark brown horses behind the line in the sand, and Mr. Moore counted down from three. Thomas glanced at Hannah. They shared a smile before the signal was given, and they set off in a swirl of sand.

  His larger horse easily pulled ahead, and Thomas couldn’t help but laugh as he leaned forward over the saddle, the wind against his body, rippling his shirt.

  After a moment, he looked over his shoulder, intent on reveling in his quick success with a teasing smile, just as he always had. However, when he caught sight of Hannah riding toward him, her hair falling from its chignon one lost pin at a time, her cheeks rosy, and eyes as bright as her smile, his pulse raced.

  He had often seen that very look of delight, of freedom, in her expression when they were children. He had been helpless when Hannah had smiled in such a way, and he was still helpless now, for even his grown heart melted at the sight.

  As he thought of the love he still had for her, he discreetly tugged on the reins.

  Chapter Seven

  Hannah overtook Thomas mere moments before they passed the monolith.

  “Well done, Hannah! Well done.”

  She slowed her horse, looking over her shoulder to see Thomas’s congratulatory smile as he trotted toward her. Only then did she notice his horse standing a few hands taller than her own.

  “There is nothing quite like riding across the beach, is there?” she asked between heavy breaths, setting her suspicions aside as she patted her horse’s dark brown neck. The horse nickered in response, and Hannah smiled. How wonderful it felt to ride again, to feel the powerful animal carrying her across the sand.

  Cheers from behind her sounded, and she looked to see a few of the children running toward them with wide smiles.

  “Such fine riding!” one boy called out.

  “Did ye truly win, miss?” asked another.

  “Yes, yes,” Thomas said, “Miss Summerfield has finally beaten me. Let us move on. I should like to forget this ever happened.”

  He winked at Hannah, and she narrowed her eyes. His nonchalant manner revealed the truth about their race, but she decided to keep her newfound knowledge to herself.

  When they returned to the others, Hannah received their compliments graciously, eying Thomas’s unfailing smile as they teased him for his loss. Soon, however, the excitement died down, and the group gathered once more around the fire.

  The sun had just begun its descent into the silver-blue sea, causing a chill to come upon the air. Hannah retrieved her shawl, pulling the cover around her shoulders. Her bonnet and gloves lay forgotten on the sand as she moved to sit next to Thomas on the same log situated near the outer edge of the group.

  “So,” Thomas said as he nudged her shoulder with his own, “how do you feel after winning at last?”

  As his lips curved with his secretive smile, Hannah shook her head. “I know you let me win, Thomas Causey.”

  He feigned ignorance. “What do you mean?”

  Folding her arms across her chest, she gave him an incredulous look. “Your horse is clearly larger than the one I rode, and as I mentioned earlier, I haven’t ridden for months. There is no earthly way I could have won.”

  “Yes, there is. You are simply a natural.”

  “No, you were always a better rider than I was.” She sighed. “At any rate, I am grateful you allowed me one brief, thrilling moment where I was able to feel as you have always felt. It was rather…freeing.”

  She had not experienced the sensation in years. As she stared out at the sea, a soberness came upon her, and she feared her peace, her freedom, was only temporary. Yes, she was to remain in Cornwall with her grandparents, but she would one day have to face her mother and Mr. Hawkins, and at the thought, she struggled to maintain the feeling of joy she had felt before.

  “Hannah, may I ask you a question?”

  At Thomas’s serious tone, Hannah’s fingers clenched her shawl, her stomach tying in knots. “Of course.”

  “I understand that your mother wished you to remain in London,” he began carefully. “However, as you did not particularly enjoy your time there and so obviously longed for Cornwall…why did you wait until now to return? It does not seem like you to not fight for something you desire.”

  She dropped her gaze. “You said it you
rself, Thomas. London has changed me. My mother has changed me. I wanted to leave, but she convinced me that I was not wanted in Cornwall any longer. And now…I have tried to be who I was before, but I cannot. There is too much holding me back.”

  Thomas shook his head, leaning toward her. “You said before that my father disliked you, but in truth, he always admired your tenacity. Before he died, he told me that he feared your mother would change you. He said the whole of Cornwall seemed to know of Lady Beatrice’s dislike for the county when she had lived here. He hated to think you would be urged into feeling the same way.” Thomas reached for Hannah’s hand and grasped it in his own. “But I told him he was wrong, that you would never stop loving Cornwall. Hannah, you may have lost yourself for a time, but you need only allow Cornwall, and those who care for you, to help you return…truly return.”

  Hannah stared at his hand holding hers, his touch sending pleasant tingles up and down her skin. He was right, of course. If she simply spoke with him, told him the truth about her mother and Mr. Hawkins, she was certain he could help her find the courage to face them both. After all, he had always helped her before. Why would it be any different now?

  “Thomas,” she began, “I would like to speak with you about something.”

  He leaned forward, his eyes intently focused.

  “I mentioned Mr. Hawkins before.” She swallowed. “Well, he and I…That is, my mother—”

  Her words were interrupted by rhythmic clapping across the fire, and they looked to see Mr. Moore leading the group in a song.

  Thomas faced her again with a disappointed look, but she smiled.

  “We can speak afterward,” she said with an encouraging nod.

  In truth, she was relieved to postpone the discussion. She would much rather enjoy her evening with Thomas without another thought of London, or who still expected her return.

  Pushing aside her gloomy musings, Hannah switched her attention to the singing. She longed to join in with the others, but time had worn her memory, so she simply hummed, clapped, and swayed along.

  When she noticed Thomas not singing either, she leaned closer to him. “Do you not sing anymore?”