by Ruth Owen
Rina told herself that she was doing all this work simply to gain the dowager’s confidence, but in her heart she knew that was only half the truth. For the first time since her mother died, she was part of a family again—a family that needed her. Her days were filled with work and contentment, and a peace she’d never expected to find in a lonely house set on the sea cliffs of Cornwall. And in the mornings, when she woke up to the cry of the gulls, and saw the dancing reflection of the water on her ceiling, she’d lie back in the soft pillows and allow herself to believe that she really was Prudence Winthrope.
Only the earl threatened her plans. His dark glares and open suspicions loomed over her like a storm cloud. He remained resolutely set against her. But the mine kept him away from Ravenshold during the day, and in the evening Rina was always in the drawing room in the company of his grandmother or sister. She gave him no opportunity to see her alone—though, in truth, he seemed little interested in seeking her out. He was so tired after his days at the mine that he frequently bypassed the drawing room and headed straight for his own chambers, leaving Rina feeling both relieved and disappointed.
It was on one such night that she heard a knock on her sitting-room door. Opening it, she was surprised to see the stout figure of Mrs. Poldhu filling her doorway.
“I’ll not have it,” the cook stated, brandishing her wooden spoon like a general’s baton. “Not a bit of it.”
Rina frowned. “Not a bit of what?”
“His lordship’s attitude, that’s what! He’s been holed up in that study of his every evening this week, and without a decent meal to his name. I’ve sent him my sweetest tarts, my most succulent pies. And what does he do? Sends ‘em back, he does. Yells at my gels until not a one of ‘em will go back. He’s like an angry bear what’s got his foot in a trap,” she stated, then proceeded to give Rina a few example of the earl’s bearish behavior.
“That is, uhm, unfortunate, Mrs. Poldhu,” Rina said, though her concern was hardly genuine. For all she cared, the foul-tempered earl could stay in his study until Judgment Day.
“It’s more than unfortunate, miss. His grandmother is that worried about ‘im. The last time his lordship was in such a state was when—”
Mrs. Poldhu’s words broke off, but her meaning was unmistakable. No wonder Lady Penelope was upset. “Cannot Lady Amy speak with him?”
“His sister’s gone to supper at the Fitzroy’s. He needs a meal, miss. In the worst way.” She nodded to a covered dinner tray sitting on a nearby hall table. “You must try to make him eat something.”
“Me? What makes you think he will not throw me out, too?”
“Because you’ve a way of getting things done when you set your mind to them. Besides, there’s no one else.”
Rina did not relish the task, but she could think of no way out of it. In any event, she saw no harm in taking the tray to the earl’s door, knocking on it, and being turned away like the rest. She stepped out into the hallway and picked up the tray. “I shall do my best, Mrs. Poldhu.”
“Lord love you, miss, I know you will. And if he barks, you tell him there’s cream tarts on the tray, the same ones he used to steal from my windowsill when he was a lad.”
The earl’s rooms were in the west wing of the house, isolated from the rest of the family. Like the man, Rina thought, feeling an unexpected twinge of sympathy as she approached the door. Shaking off the thought she lifted her hand to knock, and noticed that the door was ajar. Apparently the last kitchen maid who attempted to breach the sanctuary had been driven away before she could close it. She put her eyes to the crack, and peered inside.
A fire roared in the hearth, reflecting on the polished oak walls with a hellfire brilliance. At the center of the room the earl sat at a huge desk that was stacked with books and papers. He checked one of the ledgers and jotted a note on one of the papers, his dark head bent in concentration. His hair was tousled and his collar undone, and his jaw was shadowed by a day’s growth of beard. But his unkempt appearance was contrasted by his commanding demeanor. His movements were smooth and economical, profoundly self-assured, wasting nothing. Confident. Masculine. Sensual.
Rina swallowed, feeling as if a dozen butterflies had suddenly taken flight in her stomach. She’d never thought that watching a man work could have such an effect on her—especially a man she didn’t like. She wanted to deny it, but the truth was she was aroused—mightily. If she hadn’t promised Mrs. Poldhu that she would do her best, she’d have retreated down the hall, as far away from the man as possible. But she had promised, so she laid her shoulder to the door and pushed it open. “My lord, I’ve brought—”
“Get out,” he growled without looking up.
The rudeness of his order, along with his arrogance in not bothering to so much as look at her, rankled her senses. She was, after all, doing the man a favor. Annoyed, she marched to the desk and set down the tray with a force that made the china rattle. “I took pains to bring you supper. You could at least have the courtesy to thank me.”
Edward’s chin shot up. He’d been studying the plans for the mine’s new tunnel, his thoughts buried as deep in calculations as the tin beneath the earth. His frustration with the tunnel was nothing compared to the frustration he felt at having his counterfeit cousin catch him looking like a gypsy. Automatically he started to retie his stock, then stopped when he realized she was the last person he should be wanting to make himself presentable for. “What the devil are you doing here?”
She did not even flinch at his harsh tone. Instead, she pulled off the tray’s cloth and began to neatly uncover the dishes. As usual she wore one of her giddily decorated gowns, but the gaudy dress could do nothing to disguise the way the firelight sparkled in her shining hair, nor hide the subtle, fascinating grace that marked every more of her slim arms, nor quench the edgy hunger that consumed him when he remembered her lush body pressed against his. Hell, she could have worn a suit of armor—
Her proper, schoolmarm voice interrupted his less-than-proper thoughts. “I am here because no one else would bring you supper. You have driven them all off with your deplorable behavior.”
“Deplorable?” Edward sat up straighter, genuinely surprised. “That’s absurd. Who says I’ve been deplorable?”
“Violet.” She fluffed out his napkin and laid it beside the dishes. “Mrs. Poldhu says that you yelled at her.”
“I did not yell. Well, not precisely. I simply told her that I did not care for the soup she’d made and asked her to take it away.”
“After saying it wasn’t fit for the hounds. And then there was Mary Rose. I believe you threw a dish at her.”
“Twas a spoon. A clean spoon,” he grumbled. “She was trying to tidy up my correspondence.”
“Imagine that,” she commented dryly as she glanced at the tower of papers on his desk. “In any case, she was only trying to help. And you were beastly to her.”
“I was not…at least, I never intended…damn!” He raked his hand through his hair. “I never meant to be unkind.”
The truth in his words shook Rina to her core. Suddenly she caught a part of him that she’d never seen before, a rough, unpolished man whose harsh exterior concealed a warm heart. She turned away, unnerved by the vision. As she did, her gaze fell on a nearby sheet of paper. The bold print fairly shouted at her, making it impossible not to read it. “Why, this is a list of instructions. Supplies and assistance for—Clara Hobbs?”
“Don’t look so shocked, Miss Winthrope. The girl was a good worker, and her father a valued tenant while he was alive. If I’d known the family was in such a poor way I would have offered help sooner.” His mouth edged up in a world weary grin. “Contrary to what you’ve heard of me, I am not a complete monster.”
“I haven’t—” Rina bit her lip. She had heard he was a monster—from Quinn, from Mrs. Cherry, and from all the servants who ran scurrying when he stormed down the hall. Lord Trevelyan was a powerful man, by breeding and station, and that power set h
im apart from the people around him. He was not an easy man to know, and even less easy to like. By rights Rina should have despised him for that power, because his class so often used it to destroy the less fortunate. But the letter of instructions on his desk proved that at least once he’d used his wealth for charitable purposes. A new feeling welled up inside her, totally unexpected, totally unwelcome. Respect.
She turned away. “I should be going…I have…things to do.”
“Of course. I’m sure it takes prodigious amount of plotting to convince an old woman and a young girl that you are someone you are not.”
Rina’s eyes flashed. “Then you are still convinced that I am not Prudence Winthorpe.”
“More than ever. The Prudence I remember was a nervous child, afraid of her own shadow, who would never have gone out of her way for anyone.”
“I was six, my lord. People change.”
“That they do,” he said, his eyes narrowing. He pushed out his chair and walked over to her, like a jungle cat pacing its cage. “I used to be a trusting sort, till life taught me different. I put up with your deception because I have no choice, but if you do anything—anything at all—to damage the people I love, I will crush you like a bug under my heel. Do you understand me?”
His breath burned her cheek. His gaze seared like fire. She could feel the heat of his body, smell the musk of his scent, see the stormy passion that seethed beneath his controlled exterior. She swallowed her throat suddenly dry. “You are…mistaken. I am Prudence Winthrope.”
Rina had reached the end of her tether. She stepped back and slipped out of the room, hurrying down the hall as fast as her legs could carry her.
She didn’t see Edward watching her through the open door, following her with his haunted eyes until she disappeared from sight. Nor did she see him walk slowly over to a cabinet, and pour himself a full glass of scotch that he drained in a single draught.
After that night Rina saw even less of the earl, and was glad of it. His disturbing passion, and her even more disturbing reaction to it, made her doubt whether she could pull off her deception. But as the days passed without incident, Rina’s confidence began to return. Sometimes she went almost an entire day without thinking of Trevelyan. Sometimes she went almost an entire night—until she’d wake in a tangle of sheets, her heart hammering and her body burning from a dark, vaguely remembered dream.
Along with Lady Penelope and Amy, Sabrina saw a great deal of Mr. Fitzroy and his sister, who were frequent visitors to Ravenshold. Rina did not trust the clever-tongued dandy as far as she could throw him, but she genuinely looked forward to Lady Rumley’s company and conversation.
One day in the garden, Lady Rumley told Rina of her past. When she was barely twelve her mother had become gravely ill, and she and her brother were sent to Fitzroy Hall, their father’s ancestral home. “Paris could not abide the desolate country,” she confessed as she wove the stems of the flowers into a daisy chain, “but I must confess I fell in love with this land at first sight.”
“I did, too,” Rina sighed, remembering her first glimpse of the wild, Cornwall seascape. “So you have been here a long time.”
“On and off. Even as young children we traveled extensively with our father. That is why I was not here during your first visit.”
“Your father was an adventurer, then?”
“Only in the medical sense. He was forever seeking out doctors and specialists, in hope of helping my mother…” Lady Rumley’s voice dwindled to a sorrowful silence, and she wiped away an errant tear. “Paris was more affected than I, for he so closely resembled our dear mother in every way.”
Somehow Rina could not envision the gentle Lady Rumley’s mother as a slack-jawed dandy, but she kept the thought to herself. Instead she reached out, and bent a fragrant rose to her face, inhaling the intoxicating scent.
“Edward is fond of roses, too. Oh, don’t look so shocked,” she commented at Sabrina’s surprised expression. “He may act all bluff and bluster, but underneath he is decidedly sentimental. And he is fiercely protective of every member of his family. Especially since…”
Since his wife deserted him, Rina finished silently. The troubled look that clouded Lady Rumley’s features told Sabrina more than her words ever could. Rina knew it was none of her business. Yet there was one question she wanted to ask. “What was Lady Trevelyan like?”
For a full minute the distant cry of the wheeling gulls was the only answer Rina received. Then Lady Rumley rose to her feet, and stroked her elegantly gloved hand along the back of a nearby statue of a stone lion. “She was a golden creature, a bright oasis in this harsh landscape. Edward was besotted with her, and not without reason. She shone like a star in the heavens. How were any of us to know how far that star would fall…”
Her hand stilled on the lion’s back. “I was her best friend. Amy was away at school, and with Edward away on business, and my own dear Cyril’s health beginning to decay, Isabel and I were left alone much of the time. We forged a deep friendship, shared our most intimate confidences. Though, not the most intimate, it seems. I had no warning that she would ever desert Edward. Even after she disappeared I would not believe her duplicity—until Cyril found the article about the drowned ship in the London Gazette. It bore a list of the passenger. One of the names belonged to Isabel’s old governess, a foreign woman who had been dead for years. Isabel once confided in me that she had used the name as an alias in her youth, when she would slip away from her straitlaced guardian to visit the bazaar or purchase the latest penny novel. But I never dreamed she would use the name for such a despicable purpose.”
Sabrina frowned. “But perhaps it was another woman with a similar name. Perhaps it was not Isabel.”
Lady Rumley sadly shook her head. “Isabel sent a note. To me—she could not even confess her guilt to Edward. It was mailed from the harbor, on the day before the shipwreck. She told me she was leaving, to make a new life for herself with the man she truly loved, as she had never loved Edward. She bid me to say good-bye to her beloved children…” She cleared her throat. “But that is all in the past. Now the earl has the happy circumstance of having you returned to him.”
“I am not sure he entirely shares your joy,” Rina remarked wryly.
Lady Rumley linked her arm through Rina’s. “He will come around, you will see. I wish us to be great friends, so you must leave off calling me by my formal name. Is that all right with you…Prudence?”
“Of course—Cassie.”
They started to walk along the garden path. “I am pleased we are to be friends. After all, in a short while we are to be related.”
Of course. Cassie was going to marry the earl. Rina turned her head away and stared off at the sun-dappled sea, reminding herself that it was none of her business. In a few weeks I’ll be leaving this house. I’ll never see him again, and I’ll be glad of it.
But her resolute rang hollow.
Chapter Ten
“What do you mean you can find nothing?” Edward demanded as he pounded his fist on his desk. “Cherry, your investigations must have uncovered something.”
Mr. Cherry fumbled with his cravat. “Not a thing, my lord. I double-checked all the witnesses and documents Miss Winthrope presented to me. They are all authentic.” He lifted his chin, screwing up his courage as he added, “I did warn you that a second investigation would likely yield nothing amiss.”
“Then I’ll order a third investigation!” Edward roared.
Cherry took out his handkerchief and proceeded to mop his brow. “Of course I shall follow your wishes. But I must ask…just to be thorough, you understand…why is it that you disbelieve the lady so entirely, when she has brought only happiness to your home?”
Edward pulled out his collar, which had suddenly grown insufferably tight. Cherry was right. Miss Winthrope had brought only happiness to his home. And the knowledge vexed him sorely.
He resented her competency in bringing his neglected household back to
order. He was annoyed that his scatterbrained sister had begun showing signs of good sense since her arrival, and that it was Miss Winthrope who’d brought the roses back to his grandmother’s cheeks. He was irritated that the Fitzroys adored her, that Sarah and David hung on her every word, and that even stiff-backed Dr. Williams grinned like a schoolboy whenever she entered a room.
But most of all, he hated that he was so aware of her. During the few evenings he’d allowed himself to spend in her presence, his gaze kept straying back to her slight yet somehow stirring figure. Against all reason he found himself caught up by her unconscious, coltish grace, fascinated by the play of firelight in her auburn hair, intrigued by her intelligent conversation, and hopeful for a glimpse of her rare, wonderful smile.