For The Lady 0f Lowena (A Cornish Romance Book 2)

by Deborah M. Hathaway

  What the devil was he doing, noticing her beauty? Especially when she’d revealed, once more, that it only ran skin-deep.

  “Yes, selfish,” he repeated. “There is no other word for your behavior toward them and your own family.”

  With her chin jutting forth, she took a step forward. She was a head shorter than him, but her ferocity made her seem a foot taller. “My father was wrong to sell Fynwary Hall to you. You, who are in no way a gentleman.”

  Frederick shook his head. Why had he been quelling his frustration, checking his temper and his words, when Miss Rosewall refused to extend the same courtesy?

  Forgetting his desire to be the ever-in-control gentleman he’d taught himself to be, he leaned toward her, speaking through bared teeth. “I am more a gentleman than you could ever be a lady.”

  She gasped, pressing a hand to her chest in rehearsed revulsion, a reaction that only added to his desire to tear her pride straight from her elevated chin.

  “How could you have even considered leaving your family behind so you might live a wealthier life without them? Have you no care for either of your parents?”

  She sputtered, attempting to retaliate, but his words could not be stopped.

  “And what did you mean by positioning yourself to benefit from poor Mrs. Maddern’s charity? Surely you noted her discomfort? Her clear desire to say no?”

  To his surprise, and to her credit, a flicker of discomfort crossed her features. But it was gone in an instant when she scoffed. “Poor Mrs. Maddern? Does she look poor to you with her newly redecorated drawing room, and her fashionable gowns, and Miss Kinsey receiving everything she wishes? I hardly think so. At any rate, the Madderns and my parents have been friends for years. You would not know such a thing, as you are a stranger here, but she would have gladly accepted me into her home because that is just the sort of woman she is.”

  His jaw twitched at her obstinance. “You claim to know her better, and that may be so. But why…” He glanced around them to ensure they would not be overheard, continuing in a lower register. “Why was I the one coming to her defense? Helping her excuse herself from becoming a guardian over two young women? Can you not imagine how Miss Kinsey’s presence here might already have affected the couple’s lives? To add another woman indefinitely living in their home would be an unthinkable burden on them all.”

  She looked away. “They would be glad to have me,” she muttered, scrambling for a defense. “And I am not selfish, you are.”

  He barked out a laugh. “Oh, yes. I am selfish.”

  “You are,” she repeated with vehemence. “You are the one who has pushed my poor family—my truly poor family—into a cottage unfit for habitation. You forced us out of our rightful home, caused my father to feel shame before his family, my mother to be unwell. You caused it all. Yes, sir, you are the selfish one.”

  She was crazed. That’s all there was to it. Mad, entirely without sense. “I had nothing to do with your father’s poor choices, Miss Rosewall. He is to blame for all of this, not I.”

  They stood staring at one another, both breathing heavily with unrestrained animosity. But when tears sprung to her eyes, shock rattled Frederick’s body. Blast it all. He knew he’d gone too far with those final words. Still, he clenched his teeth, fighting off the guilt he felt for allowing his tongue to run loose.

  Miss Rosewall quickly blinked away the moisture. As she spoke, her tone was level, void of all emotion. “You do not know my father, Mr. Hawkins. And you do not know me. So don’t pretend that you do.”

  Frederick struggled with his desire to contradict her words and the knowledge that he’d allowed himself to become wrapped up in his emotions.

  With a deep sigh, he rubbed at the back of his neck. “You are right, Miss Rosewall. I do not know you. I should not have spoken so unkindly.”

  Their stares locked, and for the briefest of moments, Frederick thought he saw vulnerability in her eyes, a flicker of worry, and a tremor shook his heart. She looked helpless, afraid…real.

  In the next instant, it was gone, replaced once more by her haughty demeanor. “No,” she said in response to his words, “you shouldn’t have.”

  With a brusque curtsy, she swept past him without a glance back.

  Frederick watched her leave, securing his hat atop his head as he fought off an exasperated groan. He felt for the woman and her newly changed circumstances. He sincerely did. But her treatment of Mrs. Maddern and Miss Kinsey, and her unwillingness to admit to the truth in matters, was insufferable.

  How grateful he was that she obviously did not wish for him to accompany her home. He did not think he could do so without once again trying to force some sense into the woman.

  He knew it would do them both little good.

  Chapter Six

  “Thank you for hiring the carriage tonight, Father,” Sophia said as they bounced up and down across the uneven road.

  She avoided staring at the peeling leather on the empty seat next to her and the stains on the dirty floor beneath them. It was a great deal smaller and a great deal untidier than the carriages they had kept at Fynwary Hall, but this would certainly be more appropriate to arrive in for the Maddern’s ball than on foot.

  Father nodded, staring out of the smudged window. “I was happy to do so for you.”

  Sophia wondered what was so arresting to keep his attention away from her. He’d hardly said a word the entire ride, and they were nearly at Benlett House.

  “I’m certain we will one day be able to afford to keep our own carriage and horses again,” she offered next. “Hopefully sooner rather than later.”

  He tossed his head in a half-hearted nod. Sophia pulled her lips to one side. She knew Father was still coming to terms with their reduced circumstances, as was Mother. They’d both kept to their rooms a fair amount since losing Fynwary Hall a little over a week ago, but Sophia couldn’t understand why they appeared to have already given up.

  She, herself, was more than weary of staying at Lowena Cottage, especially after being confined indoors due to rain nearly every day since they’d arrived. She greatly enjoyed no longer playing the pianoforte, as there was no room for the instrument, but the insufferably long and lonely days had begun to grate on her spirits.

  There was still hope to be had, though. They wouldn’t remain at Lowena forever. Father would find work to improve their income. Until then, Sophia would continue seeking out old friends and neighbors, beyond the Madderns, who would be willing to help the Rosewalls, whether by lending money, homes, or advice. All she had to do was ask. And, of course, ensure the meddling Mr. Hawkins kept out of her way.

  Thunder rumbled in the distance, thankfully preventing her mind from dwelling on the gentleman and their heated argument the week before. She cagily eyed the heavy clouds blocking out the waning July sun. She had hoped it wouldn’t start raining until they’d at least arrived at Benlett House. Now her hair and dress risked becoming ruined, despite the umbrellas the servants would surely be holding up for the guests.

  Father sighed, and she again aimed her attention at him. “Are you looking forward to this evening, Father?”

  He’d always enjoyed balls before. They all had. But he merely nodded.

  “I’m sorry Mother couldn’t be with us,” she continued.

  His eyes moved to the floor of the carriage. “As am I. But I’m relieved she chose to remain at home. She has not yet recovered from the move and needs her rest.”

  Had any of them truly recovered yet? “Well, I’m certainly glad you have chosen to join me.”

  “Indeed.”

  Convincing her father to come to the ball had taken a fair amount of charming words and careful pleading on Sophia’s part. She still couldn’t understand why he was so hesitant to attend.

  “Do you like my gown?” she asked, smoothing down the white silk of her dress. “I think it is rather becoming.”

  His eyes snapped toward her gown, as if he only just now noticed what she wore. �
��When did you purchase that?”

  She blinked. “Mother and I ordered it a few weeks ago.”

  “Oh, then yes, it is lovely. As all your gowns are.”

  She tipped her head to one side, curls bouncing lightly against her brow. Had he thought she’d spent money they didn’t have?

  Just then, the carriage rolled to a stop in front of Benlett House. A familiar exhilaration bubbled within her, replacing her worry over her father’s behavior. She’d been looking forward to this evening for weeks, especially after moving to the cottage.

  The prospect of returning to the world where she belonged, where she could dance, and flaunt, and flirt to her heart’s content—where she could receive the attention she so deserved—was all too wonderful. She was in such a wonderful mood, in fact, that she could even be convinced to play the pianoforte. Though, if she thought that was an actual possibility, she would still find a way out of a musical performance.

  She allowed Father to help her down from the carriage. With an anticipatory, hopeful sigh, she took in the sight of the Madderns’ home.

  Benlett House was half the size of Fynwary, but still grand in its own nature. The house had two, red-brick stories with dozens of stone-framed windows and pointed roofing. Lights glowed from within each of the windows, and the gardens had been immaculately tended to in preparation for the evening’s ball.

  The last time Sophia had stood outside these grand doors had been a less than pleasant experience. But she would not allow the memory of her argument with Mr. Hawkins to taint the excitement she held for that evening. She would enjoy her time dancing with Mr. Chester and Mr. Singleton, as well as the other gentlemen she would meet. She would taste the refreshments, speak with whomever she wished, and, weather permitting, might even enjoy the gardens firsthand with the gentleman of her choice. This was what Sophia wanted to do. This was what her parents wanted her to do.

  A trickle of hesitation trailed down her conscience as Mr. Hawkins’s words from the dinner party echoed in her mind.

  You have shown me that these games also exist here.

  She grimaced. The game of catching a wealthy husband. That was hardly what she was doing this evening. She was merely out to enjoy herself for the first time in over a week, so enjoy herself she would.

  With Father leading her forward, they joined the line of guests entering the Madderns’ home. A few couples looked in their direction. Father turned away, but Sophia politely nodded, accustomed to such stares of admiration. She had been pleasantly surprised with Mrs. Cuff’s ability to make her hair presentable enough for the ball. Her dark locks were twisted high in a chignon, and small, white flowers speckled the twist. Her curls weren’t flawless by any means, but they certainly would suffice for a country ball.

  They entered the house, and after their names were announced, Father released her hand. “Will you be all right on your own for a moment, my dear?”

  She nodded. “Of course.”

  “Then I shall be in the card room if you need anything.”

  Mother would hardly approve of Sophia’s father and chaperone swapping her for the card room, but Sophia could hardly ask him to remain by her side the whole evening.

  Besides, she didn’t have time to worry over him and whether or not he had the funds to enjoy a game of cards—did he?—for she had plans to carry out.

  She followed the waves of people into the ballroom, taking care not to bump shoulders in the entryway. The large room was decorated with fresh, purple flowers and greenery. The chandeliers and sconces shone brightly against the shining wooden floor, and the cream curtains were pulled back to allow in what was left of the summer evening light. The room held a buzz of excitement, an anticipation for the coming first dance, and Sophia could not wait to be a part of it.

  This was the world in which she belonged. Not the one filled with dusty walls and creaking doors.

  She meandered across the dance floor, a decorous lift to the corner of her lips. Her hands were folded lightly in front of her as her fan dangled from one wrist. She passed by more looks. Her brow twitched with the slightest of frowns as she wondered if they stared for other reasons. She quickly brushed the bothersome thought aside. They must simply be surprised that she looked so well, despite coming from the slovenly cottage.

  She paused near the center of the room, a perfect vantage point to see and be seen. Holding her neck in a way she knew looked appealing, she scanned her eyes across the crowd, in search of any gentleman’s attention she might capture.

  To her dismay, the first person she found was Mr. Hawkins. Now how had she gone and found him so quickly? She was about to look away, but her eyes were drawn to the group around him, four other ladies and gentlemen, Miss Kinsey included.

  The young woman looked rather fetching that evening. Her gown wasn’t as white as Sophia’s, nor anywhere near as fine, but it at least complimented her fair hair and pale skin.

  She stood with the others, who were all enraptured as Mr. Hawkins spoke. Sophia couldn’t make out what he said, but in the next moment, the group laughed. Even Miss Kinsey broke her signature solemn look and nearly grinned.

  Sophia’s stomach leapt at the sight of Mr. Hawkins’s confident smile. She’d forgotten how much she enjoyed it. His carefree nature began to spread its light-heartedness to her and…and distract her from her tasks.

  She scolded her wayward mind. She was there to enjoy herself, to find someone to help her escape Lowena.

  She wasn’t there to admire Mr. Hawkins’s perfectly symmetrical face, nor his lean frame in his green, high-collared waistcoat and black jacket.

  * * *

  Frederick had spotted Miss Rosewall the moment she’d entered the ballroom, though he’d quickly returned his attention to the small party around him. These people were delightful, no pretenses or illusions of grandeur, simply at the ball to enjoy themselves. They were kind and welcoming, like nearly every person he’d met thus far in Cornwall.

  It was just his luck that he had happened on the only ostentatious woman his first day in the county.

  As the conversation shifted to one of the young women and her new pug, Frederick finally allowed his eyes to stray for the briefest of moments to Miss Rosewall, who was situated near the center of the room.

  He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t attracted to her. Her features were perfectly appealing to any eye. Her white gown that night appeared new, and her hair was done up in a way that accentuated her long neck and shining, black locks. She was beautiful, and the smirk on her lips revealed that she believed the very same.

  He would have never thought that this woman had lost her fortune and her future. How he despised her ability to lie. It was the same talent his father had.

  Frederick blinked, breaking his stare. There were many women there tonight beyond Miss Rosewall, and he would enjoy getting to know each one of them better, beginning with Miss Kinsey.

  He faced the quiet girl more directly, turning his back on Miss Rosewall in the process. “Might I have the pleasure of dancing the first with you, Miss Kinsey?”

  “I would be delighted, sir,” she responded, though she looked as if she’d just swallowed a piece of molded bread.

  Frederick credited her expression to a simple shyness rather than any aversion to him, then pasted a smile on his face.

  Now that he had his first dance sorted, he could begin to enjoy his evening. And under no circumstances would he look over his shoulder to catch another glimpse of the alluring Miss Rosewall.

  * * *

  Sophia stepped to the side, peering around a few guests to see what Mr. Hawkins was saying to Miss Kinsey. Had he asked her to dance the first? If so, why had Miss Kinsey not fled from the room in fright?

  Sophia simpered, pleased with her wit, but her amusement vanished as Mr. Hawkins glanced over his shoulder, and their eyes met.

  Immediately, she pulled away, coming face-to-face with another guest. “Miss Ward?” she said in surprise. “I didn’t know you’d
returned from London already.”

  The woman her age skirted her eyes about the ballroom, as if she wished to be anywhere but right there, speaking with Sophia. “Yes, only yesterday,” she responded in her customary self-important tone.

  Sophia fought a grimace. She had never really liked Miss Ward. The woman thought a great deal too much of herself, despite her mousey brown hair and plain features, and the fact that her family earned half as much money as the Rosewalls had. In truth, both girls had only ever tolerated each other, friends solely when it benefited them both. Now that the Wards had returned to Cornwall, though, Sophia could finally benefit from befriending the woman again.

  “Well, I am glad to see you have returned home at long last,” Sophia said. “We have certainly missed your company at our parties.”

  Miss Ward narrowed her eyes so slightly, Sophia was sure she’d imagined it. “Thank you, Miss Rosewall. I was going to call at Fynwary Hall, but I heard that you’ve been required to move to Lowena Cottage.”

  Sophia checked her embarrassment. A Rosewall ought not feel ashamed about anything. “Ah, yes. I thought you might have heard. I suppose there is no use denying it then. Yes, we have moved into the cottage. But I assure you, it is only temporary. I suspect my father will find other means so we might live somewhere a little finer.”

  “I do hope so, for your sake,” Miss Ward said, wincing with exaggerated pity.

  Excellent. Sophia needed that pity, feigned as it was, to work to her advantage. Although, swallowing her pride would prove to be a struggle.

  “How is life at the cottage?” Miss Ward asked, her indifferent tone unable to mask the intrigue piqued in her eyes.

  Sophia pulled on a sorrowful expression, just as she had done with Mrs. Maddern, though she hoped to be more convincing this time. “Well, it is rather small for the three of us and our servants, but I just so happened to—”

  “You have servants?”

  Sophia paused. Did Miss Ward truly think them so destitute, so set apart from Society, that they would no longer house servants? “Of course we do.”