Near the Ruins of Penharrow (A Cornish Romance Book 3)

by Deborah M. Hathaway

  “And you find it has all the society you require?” Mrs. Parnell shouted out.

  “Yes, I do,” Gwynna replied.

  When she’d first entered the drawing room, she had suffered with the same angst as at the ball. However, knowing she would only have to convince one woman—instead of an entire ballroom—that she was a lady, most of her nerves had scattered as quickly as a flock of curlews near a charging wave.

  But now, she was anything but comforted by the woman’s direct attention. Despite her hearing loss, Mrs. Parnell was bound to catch Gwynna’s terribly false accent, what with the amount of questions she’d assailed at Gwynna. What her family situation looked like, if she’d had a governess, where she preferred spending her holidays. The questions were unending. Why was Sophia not living up to her end of the bargain, speaking so Gwynna wouldn’t have to?

  Gwynna cleared her throat. “Don’t ye—you agree, Mrs. Hawkins, that St. Just be fittin’ for entertainment?”

  Sophia stared, dazed. “Oh, yes. Yes, I do agree.” Then she glanced once more to the door.

  Gwynna’s perplexed brow wrinkled like her work towser. Sophia had been behaving strangely all evening. She’d barely made an appearance as Gwynna was primped by the lady’s maid, rattling off a few things for Gwynna to remember before excusing herself to “take care of a few small matters before dinner.” Now, she was hardly saying a word.

  Sophia’s smooth feathers must simply be twisted by Mrs. Parnell’s ruffling presence. After all, what else could be unsettling her?

  Mrs. Parnell drew in a breath, clearly winding up to throw another question at Gwynna, but Mr. Hawkins blessedly spoke first.

  “Do you have the chance to visit with my mother often, Mrs. Parnell?” he asked.

  Mrs. Parnell turned to face him more directly as she answered. “Oh, yes. We live not far from one another, so we see each other nearly every day. In fact, we…”

  Her voice faded from Gwynna’s ears as Sophia leaned toward her with a discreet whisper lost to Mrs. Parnell.

  “Gwynna, I must speak with you for a moment.”

  Gwynna turned to her friend. She was fairly certain speaking while another guest was talking would be frowned upon, but then, what did Gwynna know about such matters?

  “What is it, Sophia?” she whispered in response. “Ye’ve been so quiet all evenin’.”

  “I shall explain now.” With a quick glance to Mrs. Parnell then back to the door, Sophia continued. “Our guest may be more astute than I had supposed. My Frederick told me that Mrs. Parnell is apparently the sort of woman who would not hesitate to turn you over to the constable, should she expect you to be anything less than a lady.”

  “What?” Gwynna breathed. She glanced to the door herself. Is that why Sophia was so anxious, because Mrs. Parnell had already somehow alerted the constable? Mr. Hawkins might be able to convince the man not to press for Gwynna’s imprisonment, but the constable would no doubt feel constrained to alert Mr. Peter Trevethan of her delinquency. She would lose her place at the mine for certain.

  “Why didn’t ye tell me?” Gwynna whispered fiercely. “I wouldn’t have come!”

  Sophia shoulders sunk low. “I’m so sorry, but we didn’t know. Frederick only assumed as much after conversing with her briefly, and he only had but a moment to tell me as we arrived in this very room.” She grimaced. “Mrs. Parnell had less than favorable things to say about the lower class.”

  Gwynna pressed a fisted hand to her mouth, the glove smooth against her lips. She’d purposely declined wearing rouge that evening, knowing how often she touched her face. “I know I promised to ‘elp ye, Sophia, but how can I stay here if this woman be findin’ me out?”

  A flash of delight dispelled Sophia’s earlier trepidation. “Worry not, my friend. I have enlisted another to help, one who can ease the attention away from you easily.”

  “What?” Gwynna’s voice came out in a high-pitched squeak. Fortunately, too high for Mrs. Parnell to hear. She pressed her hands to her cheeks. “Ye didn’t! Who?”

  Sophia winced. Or did she smile? “You assured me yourself that he was trustworthy. And he was the only one who knows your secret. He was the obvious choice to help you while Mr. Hawkins and I see to Mrs. Parnell.”

  Gwynna shook her head, her chest tight, as if her stays had been laced too snugly. “Sophia, ye didn’t invite—”

  “Ah, Mr. Trevethan,” Mr. Hawkins greeted. “Do come in.”

  Gwynna swung her head toward the door, her jaw slack. No, Sophia wouldn’t have done such a thing. She would never invite the one man who’d ruined Gwynna’s evening the last time she’d pretended to be a lady.

  Yet, there he was.

  Mr. Trevethan entered the room, commanding attention in his navy blue waistcoat, hair darker than his black jacket. His eyebrows were low, but an easy smile curved his lips. He paused to bow, then his deep brown eyes found Gwynna.

  Her heart tripped. Swiftly, she turned in her seat to face Sophia with an accusatory stare, but the time for their private discussion had ended as Sophia stood.

  Gwynna instinctively followed suit.

  “So lovely to have you here again, Mr. Trevethan,” Sophia said.

  Gwynna stared at the intricate floral rug beneath her slippers. Mr. Trevethan’s shoes appeared in her sight, stopping just at the side of where she stood near the sofa. Would he attempt to speak with her? Tease her for her dressing as a lady once again? He had apologized for his behavior at the ball, but who was to say he wouldn’t attempt the same game as before?

  “Thank you for the invitation, Mrs. Hawkins. I’ve been greatly looking forward to this evening.” Mr. Trevethan’s deep tone rumbled through the silence, like smooth thunder rolling across a summer sky. Only, this thunder rolled directly through her chest.

  His shoes shifted slightly closer to Gwynna. Would he say her real name, reveal her identity? Or had he agreed to join the pretense with the Hawkinses?

  Would that she could be a small piece of lint and slip into the cracks of the cushions upon which she sat.

  Mr. Hawkins took a step forward. “Mr. Trevethan, allow me to introduce to you my mother’s dear friend, Mrs. Parnell. Mrs. Parnell, a friend and neighbor, Mr. Jack Trevethan.”

  A nod from Mrs. Parnell. A bow from Mr. Trevethan. Then Mr. Hawkins continued.

  “My wife, you know, of course. And lastly, I’m certain you’ll recall Miss Joanna Bell. You met briefly at the ball, I understand?”

  “Indeed, we did. Lovely to see you again, Miss Bell.”

  So he was to play along with them then. How could Sophia not have told her about this?

  Silence followed Mr. Trevethan’s words. Gwynna knew she ought to say something in return as all eyes weighed heavily on her, but her tongue was bound by bands of uncertainty.

  The Hawkinses were under no false illusion as to who Gwynna was. If she made a mistake, revealing her lower class tendencies, they would not—they had not—batted an eye.

  But Mr. Trevethan was sure to poke fun, and Gwynna couldn’t handle such teasing, not while in a vulnerable state. Knowing her pride, she’d scold him again, just like she’d done at the ball.

  Her eyes traveled up from the carpet toward the open door. The easiest solution would be to flee from the room that instant. Sophia would be fine on her own. In truth, she deserved to squirm a bit under Mrs. Parnell’s glares after keeping Gwynna in the dark.

  As if she’d overheard Gwynna’s thoughts, Sophia nudged her discreetly with her elbow. With a look of pleading, she silently begged Gwynna to play along.

  Gwynna knew how important this evening was to Sophia. After marrying Mr. Hawkins, Sophia had lost most contact with her parents. If Mrs. Parnell—the dearest friend of Sophia’s mother-in-law—complained about any poor treatment, Sophia would lose any chance of having a close, maternal relationship.

  Gwynna could not abandon her friend, no matter her own frustrations. With a tight jaw, she nodded her head toward the gentleman. “Mr. Trev
ethan.”

  Mrs. Parnell had certainly not heard that whispered greeting, but it seemed to satisfy the room enough for the ladies to resume their seats and another conversation to occur.

  “When will the others arrive then?” Mrs. Parnell asked loudly, looking about the room.

  Mr. Trevethan shifted where he stood. The musky scent of his cologne wafted under Gwynna’s nose, swirling about her head until she was dizzy. She parted her lips to breathe through her mouth instead.

  “This is our entire party—”

  “Please do speak up, Mrs. Hawkins,” Mrs. Parnell shouted with a cupped ear.

  Sophia repeated her words louder, though her voice slightly shook. “This is our entire party this evening.”

  Mrs. Parnell blinked in surprise. “Oh, I see.”

  Sophia immediately defended herself. “We were to have a larger affair, but many of our friends had already planned to attend the public assembly held this evening, and we did not wish to overburden them with another social event.”

  Mrs. Parnell hummed, still disapproving. Mr. Hawkins placed a comforting hand on his wife’s shoulder. “We preferred a more intimate party, anyway. It will allow us the chance to speak with you a little more than if we had a grand number with us.”

  “I suppose,” Mrs. Parnell said. “Though I wonder why others would choose an assembly over a private dinner. I’ve never had the taste for public gatherings. Too much rabble.”

  Rabble. If only Mrs. Parnell knew just exactly who sat across from her, hidden under the guise of her lavender gown and silver ribbons.

  “I don’t recall you saying the party this evening would be quite so small,” Mrs. Parnell continued. “This shall be an experience, I daresay.”

  The door opened, and the butler entered the room. Sophia excused herself from the group, moving with quick steps toward him. Gwynna shifted uncomfortably under his gaze. The butler had been sworn to secrecy about Gwynna’s attendance, and Sophia said he was more than trustworthy, but still, it unnerved Gwynna to rely on the man’s word alone.

  “In London, I enjoy far larger parties,” Mrs. Parnell said, smoothing out her deep green gown.

  No one responded.

  Sophia cleared her throat from across the room. “Dinner is served.”

  Mrs. Parnell was the first to stand, and Gwynna, the last to rise. She brought up the rear of the migrating party. Mr. Trevethan’s shoulders stretched out directly in front of her. They were quite nice in that jacket of his. Very broad.

  She blinked, looking beyond him to Mr. Hawkins, who escorted Mrs. Parnell across the room. Gwynna tipped her head to the side. Was this part of the etiquette Sophia had prattled off to her earlier?

  She glanced to her friend, who motioned Gwynna forward.

  “I cannot help you this evening as much as I should like to,” she whispered in quick words. “But worry not. Mr. Trevethan has agreed to assist you where I cannot.”

  Gwynna scoffed with disbelief. “Mr. Trevethan, lead me to what be proper? Ye do recall our conversation from earlier, do ye not? The gardens? The threats?”

  “But you said he apologized.” Sophia’s eyes shone with innocence, though a small smile curled the ends of her lips.

  Sophia wasn’t trying to bring Gwynna and Mr. Trevethan closer. She had to have only been teasing the day before…hadn’t she?

  Sputtering, Gwynna pushed the thought aside. “Well, yes, he apologized, but still, to rely on ‘im instead of ye to—”

  “Ladies?”

  Gwynna forgot to be all things graceful as she whirled around to face Mr. Trevethan. He outstretched his arms toward her and Sophia both.

  “Shall we?”

  Gwynna avoided his stare. Had he heard her? It didn’t matter if he did. She’d only said the truth.

  “Oh, thank you, Mr. Trevethan,” Sophia said, “but you may escort Miss Bell to the dining room alone. I must speak with my butler for a moment.”

  So it was common practice, being escorted to the dining room. And now Gwynna would have to do such a thing without Sophia—and with Mr. Trevethan.

  “Go on, Miss Bell,” Sophia said with an encouraging nod.

  Before Gwynna could say a word of protest, Sophia turned toward her butler. That didn’t stop Gwynna from scowling at Sophia’s perfectly coiffed black hair.

  “Miss Bell?”

  Her shoulders tensed. With Mr. Hawkins and Mrs. Parnell already gone from the room, and with Sophia occupied with the butler, Gwynna was essentially alone with Mr. Trevethan. Again. How did they always manage to do this?

  He offered his arm to her, but she hesitated, imagining a thorny branch in place of his smooth jacket sleeve. She’d hate to be pricked by one of those thorns.

  “You are aware of what to do with an outstretched arm, are you not, Miss Bell?”

  He emphasized her name with a wink. No doubt he’d caused many a woman to swoon with such behavior.

  Gwynna raised her chin indignantly. “‘Course I be aware.”

  Abruptly, she grasped his arm and pulled him toward her. He teetered off balance for a moment and chuckled. “You are far stronger than you appear, you know.”

  With his firm arm beneath her fingertips—even with his jacket and her gloves between them—she felt anything but strong. Warm embers sparked in her chest, but she quickly stamped them out as she would a small fire on the moors.

  “Ye’d be wise to remember such a thing.” Her threat fell hollow as her voice cracked.

  She followed him from the drawing room and down the left corridor, toward the sound of Mrs. Parnell’s vociferous voice.

  “Are you upset that I am here?” Mr. Trevethan asked, hardly louder than a whisper.

  “No,” she lied. “Merely surprised to see ye. Will your father be here, too? Or your cousins?”

  Fear tightened its grip round her middle. How would she manage to escape them?

  Mr. Trevethan peered down at her, but she wouldn’t meet his eyes. They were far too close for that.

  “No. I told them I had a matter of business to attend to and promised to join them after at the assembly tonight. They’ve no idea where I am.”

  Well, at least Sophia had managed to not bring along Gwynna’s employer.

  “But…you were surprised to see me?” he asked.

  She nodded in silence.

  “Mrs. Hawkins did not tell you I would be here?”

  “No, she didn’t.”

  He rubbed his chin with his free hand. “I apologize. I had no notion she would keep this to herself.”

  Silence followed so thickly, Gwynna was sure not even her spalling hammer could crack through it. Fortunately, her words would do the trick. “So why did ye agree to come tonight?”

  “Mrs. Hawkins asked it as a favor of me.”

  “So ye agreed to lie, to pretend I be a lady, merely to satisfy a woman ye hardly know? I be findin’ that hard to believe, sir.”

  He stared at her again. She turned to the paintings of men with raised chins and women with stoic faces. They gaped at her as she passed them by. Imposter, their eyes said.

  “Well, that isn’t the only reason I agreed to come,” Mr. Trevethan responded.

  She lifted her fingers from his arm to avoid touching him further. If she wasn’t so worried about Mrs. Parnell spotting her, she’d have removed her hand altogether. “I’m sure the greatest pull for ye is bein’ able to tease me for another poor decision I be makin’.”

  “Gwy—” He stopped himself, lowering his voice, though no one was around to hear them. Their footsteps slowed. “Miss Bell, allow me to calm your unease in regard to my intentions. I agreed to come here for one reason alone, and that is to make amends for my behavior at the ball.”

  Her eyes swung up. They were even closer than she’d thought, but she couldn’t look away. She needed to see if he was in earnest.

  “It’s true,” he insisted, his expression as serious as the paintings now behind them, though far-less condescending. “I have experienced c
onsiderable regret since I’ve been made aware of the substantial preparations that must have been required for you to attend. I am sorry that I put an end to it, due to my…my ill-timed remarks and distasteful request. I sincerely hope to rectify the situation this evening by behaving as the gentleman I should have always been. I only hope you will allow me to do so.”

  As he finished, the rigidity dispelled from around Gwynna’s chest, replaced with an airy lightness. She redirected her eyes forward as they rounded a corner. The enticing smell of flavored meat, steamed vegetables, and sweet pastries flooded her mouth with moisture.

  “Thank ye, sir,” she said. She rested her fingers against his arm. Her hand had grown tired from hovering in the air, that was all. “So, I suppose ye know now that I didn’t pinch the pink gown after all.”

  His lip twitched. “Yes, your friend informed me of such. I do apologize for ever doubting you.”

  “I can forgive ye, sir, so long as ye don’t suggest we leave the party to, what was it ye said, ‘take a walk in’t gardens’?”

  She watched him from the corner of her eye, satisfied as a blush crept across his brow.

  He cleared his throat. “Well, you needn’t worry about that. I have had enough scoldings from you to never wish for one again.”

  They shared a smile, her eyes lingering a moment too long on the angle of his firm jaw.

  As they continued, Gwynna attempted to make sense of everything that was happening. Instead, all she could focus on were the embers in her chest, now glowing orange once again.

  Was she dreaming, or was she truly walking down a corridor of a stately home in a fine gown on the arm of a gentleman—a gentleman who wished to make amends for the way he’d treated her?

  Was that why he continually sought after her? Or was it because he had feelings for…

  She blinked hard to dispel the thought. It had been produced from Sophia’s earlier, teasing words. Of course this man was not interested in Gwynna. The idea was preposterous. Laughable. He was merely being the gentleman he said he wished to be.

  Besides, she wasn’t interested in him either.

  Other than being extremely attracted to him, but there was nothing untoward about that.