Sophie had at first complained that her clothes were hopelessly unfashionable for the occasion, but it had taken little persuasion on Luke’s part to get her to come. After the demurrals and doubts she had expressed to Kelynen about entering a second marriage, she wanted Kelynen to be one of the first to learn of her betrothal, and, in recompense over her wrongful beliefs about the Tremaynes, she was eager to present a sociable front to them. Also, it was the perfect opportunity to inform the Reverend Lanyon of Betty’s true identity.
‘After we leave Chenhalls tomorrow, Luke and I are to go straightway to Vellanoweth and make the arrangements to take Betty to my house,’ she said, sitting opposite Luke for the shaky journey over the rough roads – and serenely, for she now had much to be serene about, returning his frequent fulsome smiles.
‘Kane and Jessica will be pleased, as we all are, that Betty will know you, her aunt, and her family roots, but they’ll also be greatly disappointed to have to give her up. They dote on her,’ Timothy said, displeased that Sophie Carew had kept this vital information from him. Did she not respect his calling? She should have trusted him.
‘Kane and Jessica can see her as often as they like,’ Luke said in soft, generous tones. ‘Betty – or rather, Elizabeth, as we have decided to have her baptized – will be a Pengarron. Her adoption will keep her in a close bond to Kane.’
Livvy, sitting next to her intended sister-in-law, had been astonished at the betrothal. She did not consider Sophie Carew a suitable wife for Luke. However, she included Timothy, aloof and critical, in her comments, hoping he’d see them as intelligent and compassionate. ‘I do hope you find your sister, Mrs Carew. There are many reasons why she may not have been in touch with you. She may have felt it best to go away and start a new life. She may have felt too ashamed to face you, but she’d have known that leaving her baby where she did, it would have been well cared for. By the evidence of the silk Betty was wrapped in, Miss Trevingey obviously intended for you to discover the baby’s identity.’
‘Thank you for your kind assertions, Mrs Lanyon. I do not think badly of Adelaide.’ With her own and her niece’s futures now assured, Sophie had come to similar conclusions about her wayward sister. She hoped Adelaide was faring well, and Adelaide’s deviousness likely ensured she was, but now she had no particular wish to see her again. Adelaide might threaten her new position.
‘You have forgiven her.’ Livvy aimed the words in Timothy’s direction. ‘Yes, I admire that. One must forgive. It’s what our Lord has commanded us to do and for very good reason. It is what gives us peace of mind.’
Timothy pulled in a long, deep breath. He had just had a piece of his last sermon quoted at him.
* * *
In the banqueting hall, Josiah stood at a distance from his uncle and intended bride, seemingly happy for them, but in reality anxious at the development.
Kelynen Pengarron, with her astuteness and her adoration of his uncle and her love for Chenhalls, was a danger to him. His uncle might be content to allow him free reign with estate business, but the fawning young thing hanging on to his arm might start to pry where she should not. His only hope was that the marriage would go ahead quickly and his uncle would take his bride away on an immediate prolonged honeymoon. He couldn’t rely on his uncle’s goodwill after the inevitable discovery that his spendthrift ways had led to him forging his uncle’s signature at the bank, to the effect that he had already been allowed his inheritance, and that he had subsequently drawn heavily on the Chenhalls accounts.
He needed to make some money fast. Therefore he had put his own house, near Porthleven – a small but comfortable property, convenient for privacy with his mistresses – up for sale. Checking his appearance, a frequent habit of his, in a silver, scroll-framed, cut-glass mirror, he fussed with his white, human-hair wig and was reminded that he had sent the mirror home from Florence while on the grand tour. The house held many of his acquirements. They belonged to him. He would claim them and sell them. And there were many forgotten treasures in the many unused rooms, an easy and stealthy way to build up some funds so he could take himself off somewhere. Then he’d find a wealthy mistress, one who would keep him for a change. And, hopefully, one day his uncle would forgive him. He didn’t really care much for the man who had reared him, but his uncle’s willing benefaction had always made him feel safe.
His reflection blurred and the pounding headache he’d been suffering for the last few hours almost made him pass out. Thankfully, his uncle and his bothersome new love were too besotted with each other to notice him clutching the sideboard. That woman he had encountered on the road had done something to him, and Josiah was also anxious about that. Everything about the time they’d spent together behind some bushes was hazy. He couldn’t remember her name; she probably didn’t offer it. He supposed that after a little preliminary flirting they must have started kissing. He wasn’t sure how far she had let him go but he remembered her showing him her shoulders and bare legs. What did she look like? If his memory served him right she was fairly ordinary, quite small and comely, with black hair, but there were many local females of that description.
She’d had a basket with her, had offered him something to drink from it. Like a fool he had accepted, and from the dreadful way he was now feeling – quite unlike being hungover – it must have contained an opiate. She had stolen the watch on his waist tab and all his money, but that was no surprise. But she had talked a lot. Asked him a lot of questions. Why? Perhaps she had wanted to know his routine and was planning to rob him again. He would stay here for a few days and hope never to come across her again. Certainly he would never trust another wayside stranger.
Before the greetings were over, Luke, unable to contain himself, had passed on his good news. Kelynen threw her arms round his neck. ‘That’s marvellous! I won’t ask you how you won Sophie, and so quickly, but I’m delighted you have.’ She kissed Sophie’s cheek, aware once more of her friend’s stiffness when receiving affection. Like Gabriel, Sophie had never known a loving family, and Kelynen put her aloofness down to this. ‘I couldn’t wish to have anyone else become my sister-in-law.’
‘Sir Rafe, you do not mind me bringing Mrs Carew, I hope? I couldn’t bear to be parted from her so soon,’ Luke said, a keen stare on his host. He had only a passing acquaintance with the baronet, but had observed how he had a penchant for women, was uncommonly skilful at the gaming tables, could drink all night with little ill effect, was usually good-humoured, and had, until recently, paid his business accounts on time. From these observations, there was nothing to dislike in his character, but Sophie had harboured suspicions about him, and Luke had a tendency towards caution.
‘I’m delighted to welcome Mrs Carew into my house, Mr Pengarron,’ Rafe replied with all his charm. ‘I shall order a room to be prepared for her immediately. Mrs Carew, may I suggest that after you have rested from the journey you take a turn round the gardens? Of course, they aren’t at their best until the summer months, but I’m sure you’ll find many spring blooms to take pleasure in.’
Kelynen watched as Rafe’s charisma did its beguiling work on the company. Luke relaxed. Sophie seemed comfortable. Was her betrothal, wanting to be with Luke, the reason for her apparent friendliness towards Rafe and Josiah? The strain marking Timothy and Livvy as they had entered the hall had dissipated a little. Timothy was even laughing. Perhaps this short stay would be beneficial to their marriage, somewhere away from home on neutral ground, where they could drink and admire the cats.
Lady Portia shuffled creakily in. Two steps behind her was Jayna Hayes, carrying her dogs. ‘Come along all of you.’ The old lady clapped her brown-speckled hands. ‘It’s time for the viewing.’
‘Viewing, milady?’ Timothy smiled graciously at her quivering, purple-clad form.
Lady Portia closed her parchment fan with an indignant snap. ‘Young man, I am talking about your wife’s portrait of my brother. What else? Come along. You may help me up the stairs to the gall
ery. Then I want you to give Mrs Lanyon a time of release so she may start on my portrait.’
* * *
‘You didn’t like it, did you?’ Livvy asked Timothy. They were alone in their room at the back of the house, which overlooked the sunken garden, the trees and the turrets of the tower. She followed his gaze to the enormous four- poster. Was he planning to sleep beside her tonight? Suddenly she missed the nearness of him in bed.
‘Like what?’ Folding his arms, he propped himself against a window ledge. He was shutting out much of the light, while the light behind him gave a golden sheen to his earth-brown hair. Wearing non-clerical clothes with a touch of colour, he cut a first-rate figure.
Knowing he was simmering with malcontent towards her, and having expected this sort of challenging, derisory answer, Livvy wanted to swipe away his self-righteous, intransigent expression, and she wanted to weep. She wept a lot nowadays, which she hated, having before considered easily distressed females as tiresome and pathetic. ‘It doesn’t matter. I’m going out for a walk,’ she said.
‘You asked me a question, and now you can’t be bothered to stay and talk.’ He muttered under his breath. ‘Now isn’t that typical.’
‘Timothy, you do not wish to talk to me! You answered my question with a question. That was rude and insulting.’
‘If you’re referring to Rafe’s portrait, I thought it had a certain…’ He rubbed his chin.
‘Yes?’ She came close to him. There had been many exclamations of admiration over the portrait, especially about her blend of colours, brighter than the usual mode, but she most wanted to have Timothy’s verdict. Somehow it was imperative to have his approval, his appreciation, so she could feel justified at the amount of time spent working away from home.
‘You’ve definitely picked up Rafe’s flamboyant character.’
‘Anything else?’
He made a face and looked away. ‘I liked it, Olivia.’
The contemptuous dismissal cut into her deep. He made her feel as if she was no more than an irritation to him. ‘You wretch!’
‘I beg your pardon?’ His dark eyes whipped back to her, twinkling dangerously.
‘Don’t you pretend indignation. You infernal hypocrite! Stop treating me with such cold disdain. I won’t tolerate it. Do you understand? Be very careful, Timothy, or you will make me hate you, and I shall remove myself and the children and go to live at the manor.’
He straightened up and loomed over her. ‘I’ll not allow you to take my children away from me! Never!’
‘But you’d have no care if I were to leave you, is that what you’re saying? It is you who hates. I’m sorry I upset you over the matter of Betty’s refuge. I’m sorry for neglecting you. If you can’t forgive me – and you must acknowledge I’ve been willing of late to fall in with your wishes – then we are truly lost and our marriage is over. And I am beginning not to care!’ She ran from the room, leaving him to crumple back down on the window ledge.
Rafe was on his way to Luke’s room to present his case for Kelynen’s hand in marriage when he saw Livvy hurtling down the corridor ahead of him. He went in to Timothy. ‘My young friend, it seems you are having a little marital trouble.’
‘No, Rafe, verily, a large amount of trouble.’ Timothy remained bent over, as if in pain. He was in great emotional pain.
‘One of you has fallen out of love?’
‘I will always love Livvy. She tired of me long ago.’
‘You think she has a lover?’
The direct question, delivered matter-of-factly, made Timothy look up. ‘No! No, I am sure she has not.’
‘How can you be sure? It’s the usual step in a loveless marriage, for one or both partners.’
‘But the only thing Livvy does away from the house is paint. Of late, she’s been busy making plans for alterations to the nursery.’
‘The nursery, you say? Then she is a woman who loves her home and children. If she has not looked elsewhere yet, don’t you think you are fortunate?’ Rafe moved closer to him, where he got a better view of his wounded face. ‘It’s not unknown for clergymen to indulge in extramartial activities. I take it you aren’t considering this?’
‘Of course I’m not!’ Timothy was on his feet, horrified at the suggestion.
‘And it’s more to do with your love for dear Livvy than moral values,’ Rafe stated. ‘The solution then is simple. Go after her.’
‘What?’
‘Timothy, Livvy is not the sort of woman who can be brought to heel like a dog. Talk over your troubles with her. Root out all your feelings, and hers. It might not be easy, it might initiate further battles, but something worth having is always worth fighting for, don’t you think? I did not love either of my wives. One was highly strung, the other dull and unsatisfying. Just recently I think I might actually be falling in love.’ Rafe’s thoughts swept over Kelynen’s pretty face and soft yielding body, her kind, trusting nature, the way she eagerly responded to him in all things, her interest in all things. She would be a mate to enrich him, not reduce him. ‘Yes, it’s been a surprise to me. I’ll do anything, and I mean anything, to secure and keep her.’
‘Who is this lady?’ Timothy was distracted from his woes by Rafe’s enthusiasm.
‘You shall hear soon enough. Now be gone, Timothy. Go to Livvy. I want to see two happier faces at my table tonight.’
His head a whirl of confusion of advice and emotions, Timothy turned to the window. He saw Livvy half walking, half running, shoulders down, her beautiful red hair tossed about, heading towards the trees. He went after her.
There was no sign of Livvy at all in the grounds, and the last place in which to look was the tower. He tried the arched door. It was unlocked. He went inside and shut the door behind him, shrinking back from the darkness and oppressive atmosphere.
On the second storey he found her, scrunched up on the cold stone floor of an almost bare bedroom, likely the one used by the ailing nephew. She was weeping into her hands.
‘Livvy…’
‘Go away. Leave me in peace!’
‘Livvy, please listen to me. I’m sorry for my belligerence. We must talk. Come and sit on a chair. I promise I won’t take a high-handed stance. Please, beloved, I want us to put things right.’
She raised her head. A large tear rolled down her cheek, making Timothy want to take her in his arms and promise her anything. He held out a hand to help her up.
She ignored it, dried her eyes on her handkerchief and rose on her own. ‘I’ll talk, but only for Hugh and Julia’s sakes.’
He formed a smile, put all his love for her into it. ‘Well, that’s a start. It’s cold in here – bleak, don’t you find? Why don’t we talk outside?’
‘I’d rather stay here.’
‘As you wish. Oh, Livvy, I hate us being torn apart like this!’ Suddenly he hauled her in against him, clamping her tight.
Her arms were trapped, but rather than being offended by this impulsive rush, she was delighted. It felt romantic, ardent, and she wanted to hold on to him. ‘I was wrong and I was selfish, I see that now, Timothy. I can’t stand you not being close to me any more. Even at night. I miss you wanting me.’
Timothy let her go, downcast and distraught. ‘You’ve never enjoyed intimacy with me, have you, Livvy? You’ve never actually given yourself to me and I’ve never felt I should take from you. There’s a difficulty. You indicated it just now. Even at night, you said, even, Livvy. I think love-making may be our biggest problem. I’ve tried always to be restrained because I thought I should be, but have I been a dull lover to you?’
‘Timothy, what nearly happened to me before we married was a long time ago. I’m not nervous any more, haven’t been for years. I should have told you.’
‘Then tell me this, do you love me?’ He was afraid to receive a thoughtful pause and then a sorrowful explanation of how she had grown away from him, that they were not really suited and should never have married. He had never had anything of conseque
nce to offer her and he had often wondered if she resented it.
She said at once, reaching for him, ‘Yes. I love you. I’ve never stopped loving you.’
‘Oh, darling.’ He lifted her face and kissed her mouth, not with his usual gentleness but with vigour, letting loose some of the passion he had held back for so long.
Livvy enjoyed the shocking roughness of it. She felt she was being kissed for the first time and kissed him back with equal force. Confident with her at last, feeling her body throbbing against his, Timothy pulled her towards the bed. They fell down on it. He was lifting her skirts, pushing them impatiently out of his way. His desperate urgency, his rush of power, was flooding her with desire and she was straining for him. She met his insistence with demands of her own. Both were discovering the devastating newness of love and want. Reality and presumptions were left behind in glories beyond all imagination.
His voice emerged strangled, raw. ‘I’m sorry, Livvy, darling, if that was awful for you. I couldn’t help myself from wanting you so much. I was almost out of control.’
‘I know. It was all right, beloved.’ She extended a finger and ran it through the sweat on his face. He was so hot. It excited her. Everything about this encounter excited her – making love in a strange place, the small chance of them being discovered. She had not reached fulfilment – she knew there was more yet to be experienced – but she had enjoyed enormously being taken by his power, being under his governance. This was the one aspect of her life with him where she wanted him to be dominant. She wanted him to be a thrusting, virile man. When she was confident in the ways of making love, she would sometimes take supremacy over him, do things he’d enjoy, and their love-making would always be wonderful.
From his heavy breathing, the energy agitating and building up inside him, she was shot through with new and more intense thrills, knowing he was about to start all over again.
Pengarron Rivalry Page 13