Waltz With a Stranger

by Pamela Sherwood

  “She’d like that, especially if you send roses. I’ll see you at luncheon,” Aurelia added, and hastened toward the path he’d shown her.

  Fortunately, no one observed her reentrance into the house. Back in her chamber, she let Suzanne put her appearance to rights: changing her creased muslin frock for a pretty, lace-trimmed shirtwaist and a skirt of lightweight green wool, just right for Cornwall’s mild climate.

  A quick glance in the mirror showed neither sunburn nor freckles, though she was perhaps slightly ruddier than she’d been when she’d set out on her excursion. Suzanne still seemed astonished that her mistress had allowed herself to become so disheveled; Aurelia heard her murmur “C’est incroyable!” as she bore off the muslin dress to be laundered.

  Aurelia slipped the key Lady Talbot had given her into the pocket of her skirt; she’d return it when they met at luncheon, but for now, she would check on Amy. She went down the passage and tapped on her sister’s door. “Amy, are you awake?” she called softly.

  A wan voice bade her enter, and she slipped inside. Amy, looking pale and listless, lay propped up on pillows in bed, thumbing halfheartedly through a novel.

  “I am sorry you are not well, dearest,” Aurelia said sympathetically, taking a chair beside the bed—a sturdy four-poster like her own, but hung with rose-pink silk.

  “It will pass,” Amy said with a sigh. “But it could hardly have come at a less convenient moment!” She laid her novel aside and glanced at Aurelia more closely. “You, on the other hand, look very well indeed—positively glowing, in fact. Any particular reason?”

  Aurelia flushed, feeling unexpectedly guilty, and gave her sister a brief account of her solitary excursion down to the beach. Like Trevenan, Amy expressed surprise and concern on learning that she’d taken the stairs, and Aurelia hastened to reassure her of their safety.

  “As you can see, I’m fine. The stairs are in excellent condition, and I took every precaution. Believe me, it was worth the climb,” she added, smiling at the memory of those first exhilarating moments alone on the sand, with the sea surging before her. “You must see the beach, Amy. It’s so beautiful—all wild and unspoiled. Newport doesn’t hold a candle to it.”

  Amy’s brows rose. “High praise, indeed.” She settled back against the pillows once more. “I still think you should have waited for me,” she grumbled. “But then you never could resist the sea. I hope Mama didn’t catch you out.”

  “No, fortunately. Lord Trevenan brought me back before anyone discovered I was gone.”

  “Trevenan?” Amy echoed. “He was there too?”

  Aurelia felt herself flush again. “He was out riding on the beach this morning,” she replied, trying for a casual tone. “Lady Talbot told me he was an early riser. He seemed as surprised as you that I’d taken the stairs, so he offered me a ride, to spare me the climb back up.”

  Her sister’s eyes widened. “A ride? You mean, you got on a horse again?”

  Aurelia nodded. “I thought—well, I thought it was time I tried it, at least.”

  Amy laid a hand over hers. “Was it very difficult for you?”

  “At first, yes,” Aurelia admitted. “When I got in the saddle, I felt as if I were miles off the ground. But the horse behaved beautifully. I managed to stay on, and we arrived safely.” She took a breath. “Trevenan has suggested that I might try riding again.”

  “Has he?” Amy regarded her intently. “How do you feel about it, Relia?”

  “Nervous,” Aurelia confessed. “A little frightened, but—a little excited too. I think I would like to take it up again, at that.”

  “Oh, I’m glad!” her sister exclaimed, smiling. “I know how much you used to love riding. And I’ve so missed riding with you, especially mornings on the Row.”

  “Well, I suspect it may be a while before I can attempt the Row,” Aurelia said ruefully. “But perhaps a few turns about the paddock here would be more my speed, at least for now. Trevenan recommended one of his gentler horses for my use.”

  “I’m sure it won’t be long before you’re riding as well as you ever have,” Amy said staunchly. “And I can lend you a habit and riding boots too. Isn’t it lucky that we’re of a size?”

  “Nothing too fine,” Aurelia insisted. “I’m not planning to fall off, but I’d hate to ruin your best riding kit if I do.”

  They both looked up at a knock on the door. Mariette, who’d been tidying her mistress’s linen drawer, immediately went to answer it. Seconds later, she stepped back into the room, carrying a bouquet of brightly hued flowers.

  “From his lordship, mademoiselle,” she announced, carrying them over to Amy, who perked up noticeably at the sight. “With his best wishes for your quick recovery.”

  “How gallant of him! And how lovely they are!” Eyes aglow, she sniffed at a half-open pink rose. “Such a scent. You can tell these come straight from a garden, not a shop.”

  “He remembered your fondness for roses,” Aurelia said with determined cheer. “And look, aren’t those lupines?” She indicated the tall blue and violet flowers, which towered over the other blooms like the spires of a church.

  “Yes, and hollyhocks too.” Amy indulged in one last sniff before handing the bouquet to Mariette to put in water. “So thoughtful. I wonder how he knew I was under the weather.”

  “I told him,” Aurelia confessed. “That is, he asked why you weren’t with me on the beach, and I mentioned you were indisposed. He was prepared to send for a doctor, if necessary.”

  “Good heavens!” Amy murmured, but Aurelia thought she looked rather touched. “Well, I trust you assured him that my condition was not so grave as that.”

  Aurelia nodded. “I assured him you’d be up and about within a day or two.”

  “Monday,” Amy declared emphatically. “No later than that, certainly. If I’m to be mistress here, I can’t spend the next week lolling in bed. I want to see the rest of the estate.”

  “Well, what I’ve seen of it looks splendid,” Aurelia told her. “Trevenan could probably give you a tour, or—if he’s otherwise occupied—Lady Talbot.”

  “That reminds me.” Amy leaned forward again. “Is everything all right with James and his other—guests?” She pulled a slight face at the last word.

  “We’ve been spared the Durwards so far,” Aurelia replied. “I think Lady Talbot has persuaded them to keep to their rooms, at least for now.”

  “Oh, good. Though I’m sure the respite won’t last—more’s the pity.”

  “Trevenan thinks the same. But surely he and Lady Talbot can keep them in line.”

  “I hope so, but I just know Lady Durward will try to say something once she’s out and about. You know she won’t stand for being confined to her room indefinitely. And she’s just the sort to put in an appearance at the worst possible moment—from pure spite.” Amy lay back with a sigh. “She makes those Fifth Avenue harridans look like the epitome of tact and restraint. I hope James has some plan to counteract her slanders. Has he said anything about it?”

  Aurelia hesitated. Trevenan had asked her not to mention the anonymous letter to Amy, and while she would not willingly betray his confidence, neither could she withhold the entire truth from her twin. Amy had the right to know at least part of what was going on. “I think,” she ventured at last, “he hopes that his cousins—the Tresilians—might shed some light on how this vicious rumor might have started. He intends to call on them this afternoon.”

  “If only I could accompany him!” Amy lamented. “He should have someone from our family present, to show our support if nothing else.” She lapsed into brooding silence for a few moments, then suddenly brightened. “Relia, why don’t you offer to go with him?”

  “Me?” Aurelia said, startled.

  “Why not? You and James have become such friends. Surely, there would be nothing improper about your accompanying him in my stead.” Her eyes sparkled at her own ingenuity. “You could act as my envoy, so to speak! Yes, I like that idea enorm
ously.”

  “Well, Trevenan might not,” Aurelia pointed out, with some asperity. “Under the circumstances, he might prefer to see the Tresilians alone.”

  “Nonsense. It’s only right that the rest of the world should see that we are completely behind him on this. And besides,” she added coaxingly, “if you were to go, you could tell me more about these Tresilians who are so important to him. I’d appreciate that so much, Relia—knowing what James’s favorite cousins are like.”

  Aurelia sighed, recognizing that she had already capitulated. Her sister was right, after all—Trevenan deserved the comfort of knowing that his future in-laws fully supported him. “Very well, dearest. I shall ask him. Although he might still refuse my offer.”

  “He won’t,” Amy predicted. “Not if he has the sense I’ve credited him with.”

  ***

  “Harry’s family lives just outside of St. Perran,” Trevenan told Aurelia as he handed her into the gig after luncheon. “About twenty to thirty minutes’ drive from here, in good weather.”

  “Well, we have that at least,” she said, settling carefully into the seat. The beauty of the afternoon had fulfilled all the promise of the morning, the sun beaming down from an almost cloudless blue sky. In deference to her mother’s wishes, Aurelia had donned a wide-brimmed straw hat trimmed with violets to match her visiting costume of twilled lavender silk.

  “We do indeed.” Trevenan climbed into the gig himself and took the reins, urging the carriage horse—a tall, placid bay—into an easy trot.

  Aurelia relaxed against the squabs as they headed down the drive and out through the gates. While slightly surprised by her offer to accompany him, Trevenan had accepted it without demur after she explained Amy’s reasoning. Somewhat unexpectedly, everyone else had approved the idea as well. Aurelia suspected that Lady Talbot saw the advantage of publicly revealing that her nephew remained on the best of terms with his future bride’s family.

  Trevenan drove as well as he rode, as well as he danced, Aurelia observed—his hands light on the reins that guided the horse down the track. Graceful and competent, without being the least bit showy. One could say the same of the man himself, and here, in Cornwall, he appeared to have shed many of the constraints that had dictated his conduct in town. Despite the cloud over his head, he seemed freer here: more relaxed, more expansive, and, she thought, remembering how he had looked this morning on the beach, infinitely more virile.

  She looked away, wondering if she would ever lose this heightened awareness of him, this consciousness of his every breath and motion. Casting about for a safe conversational topic, she said at last, “Amy loved the flowers you sent up. I’d only a glimpse of your garden this morning. Is it as fine as this all year round?”

  “Flowers seem to flourish most here during spring and early summer. Although the gardeners at Pentreath work to keep the gardens looking their best, whatever the season.”

  “Mama likes to garden back home. Unfortunately, Amy and I never got the knack of it.”

  “My mother was an avid gardener too,” Trevenan remarked, smiling reminiscently. “Our garden at Chenoweth—our family home—was her pride and joy. She’d plant roses, daffodils, lupines, and lavender. Especially lavender; she’d make creams and lotions of it, and little sachets of dried lavender, to give to friends.”

  “I love lavender,” Aurelia confessed. “It’s my favorite scent.”

  “I know.”

  Trevenan’s voice was soft, almost caressing, and she felt herself flush, remembering just how he might have come by that knowledge of her. Putting the memory aside, she said brightly, “So, tell me more about the Tresilians. I gather you and Sir Harry are close in age?”

  “He’s just a year older. But we were inseparable as boys, and close even now. Harry’s been head of his family since he was twenty-one. His father, Hugh, was my mother’s eldest brother. My own father claimed that meeting the Tresilians—and eventually marrying one—saved him from becoming an irresponsible rogue, like too many younger sons.”

  “That’s quite a compliment,” Aurelia mused. “But why did your other uncle—the late earl—object to them so? Supposedly, they were a good influence on your father, and Sir Harry does have a title, of sorts.”

  “Ah, but a baronet is considerably less exalted than an earl, and then there’s the matter of the Tresilians’ involvement in trade.”

  “The mine,” Aurelia said, understanding at once.

  “Just so. Apparently, it wasn’t enough that my mother’s family owned a tin mine, but they had to take an active hand in its management and operation.” Trevenan’s tone was dry. “Clearly, that placed them beyond the pale for many aristocrats.”

  “But, how foolish!” Aurelia exclaimed. “How can a business prosper unless the owner takes a direct hand in how it’s run?” She shook her head. “That’s one thing I’ll never understand about the English—this prejudice against a gentleman doing honest work for honest money.”

  He smiled. “An American perspective that has much to recommend it. Fortunately, the Tresilians are just as pragmatic on that score—and thoroughly unapologetic about it. They’re impervious to snubs. I suspect that’s one reason Uncle Joshua found them so objectionable, though Aunt Judith thinks there might have been another reason for his antipathy.”

  “Which was?”

  “My mother, Carenza.” His tone warmed and softened over the name. “She was bright, pretty, vivacious—and she and my father fell headlong in love the first time they met. They married despite my uncle’s disapproval, and were very happy together. I suspect Uncle Joshua resented that his brother had the freedom to wed where he chose, and the temerity to make a success of it.”

  “How sad that he couldn’t be happy for them instead,” Aurelia remarked.

  “I’m afraid my uncle’s character wasn’t capable of that sort of generosity. Instead, he cut off most of his contact with my father, and would not receive my mother at Pentreath. And yet…” Trevenan paused, then continued in a quieter tone, “When my parents drowned in Italy on their second honeymoon, he arranged to have their ashes brought back to Cornwall and interred here. I owe him something for that—and for taking me in, difficult though our relationship was.”

  “Was he your sole guardian?”

  “My parents named both him and Harry’s father as my guardians,” he said after a moment. “Uncle Hugh was willing to take me in, but he’d five children at home and barely enough room for them, so it was decided that, as a Trelawney, I should live at Pentreath.”

  Where his aristocratic uncle continually belittled his mother’s family, and his cousins bullied him, Aurelia thought. And where affection of any kind appeared to have been thin on the ground. A bleak situation for a boy bereft of loving parents. Aloud she said, “Pentreath is such a handsome house. I am sorry that it wasn’t a happier one, when you were growing up there.”

  He exhaled. “I managed. And there were moments, even then. My father spent his boyhood at Pentreath. I felt…close to him there. And to my uncle’s credit, I was not forbidden to see the Tresilians, though I suspect Aunt Judith had a hand in that.”

  “Your aunt seems wonderfully adept at managing even the most difficult people.”

  “She is, indeed. Talking of which, have you encountered the Durwards at all today?”

  She shook her head. “Your aunt said at breakfast that they were keeping to their rooms. And they didn’t come down to luncheon either.”

  “So I noticed, though I doubt we’ll be spared much longer.” Trevenan sighed. “I daresay they’ll venture out this evening, or possibly tomorrow, if we’re lucky.”

  “I don’t understand why Lady Durward dislikes you so. Is it merely that she resents seeing you in her brother’s place?”

  “That may be part of it,” he replied. “But the truth of the matter is, I’ve never fully understood Helena. We got on no better than Gerald and I, though he was my chief tormentor.”

  “Were she and her
brother close?”

  “I wouldn’t have said so, myself. They seemed united in their dislike of me, I suppose, but to the best of my recollection, they quarreled just as frequently among themselves.”

  “You can quarrel fiercely with your brothers and sisters, but still fight against anything or anyone that threatens them,” she pointed out. “That happened often enough with Amy and me.”

  “You and Amy? But you have always seemed to me the very dearest of friends.”

  “We are. But that doesn’t mean we’ve never quarreled or competed against each other. Less so now, of course, than when we were children,” she added reflectively. “Possibly because we’ve grown up to be quite different people, who might not want the very same things—”

  She broke off, struck by the irony of her own words. However much she and Amy had matured, however close they were now, the fact remained that they both wanted one thing very badly indeed: the man who happened to be sitting beside her right now.

  And he wanted only one of them, Aurelia reminded herself. He wanted Amy; he was betrothed to her. This odd intimacy that she’d sensed growing between them was nothing more than a fluke—the result of propinquity. If Amy had been on the beach this morning, surely Trevenan would have unburdened himself to her, his future wife, rather than his soon-to-be sister-in-law. Or would he? He’d asked her not to discuss this business with Amy, after all.

  Trevenan’s voice broke into her thoughts. “Well, whatever rivalry you and Amy might have engaged in back in the day, comparing the two of you to Gerald and Helena is quite a stretch. Still,” he added, “they do say blood is thicker than water. Helena claims to want justice for Gerald. And as his cousin and successor, I suppose I’m bound to find it for him—if I can.”

  By now, they had reached the outskirts of St. Perran. The Tresilians lived at the bottom of a valley, Trevenan told her. Not far from the beach, though they did not have the sea at their doorstep, as he now did. As they neared their destination, a lone rider came ambling up the lane. Sighting the gig, he reined in his horse—a fine-looking chestnut—and raised a hand in greeting.