Page 27 of The Cornish Mermaid

Ysella took Morvoren’s arm. “Dear Miss Lucas, do please come with me. I have a gown in mind that will suit your coloring to perfection.” And with that, she whirled Morvoren out of the room.

*

Kit

No sooner had the door closed behind Ysella and Miss Lucas than Kit’s mother turned on him. “Who is this girl?” she demanded. “And why have you brought her here? She must have family somewhere who can take responsibility for her, surely?”

Kit bristled. “She has no one, Mother, and I feel responsible for her myself having pulled her from the water and thought her dead. I could think of nowhere safer to bring her but here.” He scowled at his mother. “You would have done the same yourself had you been at Nanpean with Jago. And as you can see, Ysella is already very taken with her.”

His mother matched him scowl for scowl. “What I would have done is immaterial as I was not at Nanpean. I can’t imagine Jago was very pleased. How do we know she is a respectable young lady who should be consorting with your impressionable sister? Surely, she has someone she can turn to apart from us?”

Kit marched to the fireplace to give himself time to think. Trust his mother to batten on to the one thing he couldn’t prove. “She just is respectable,” he said, annoyed at his feeble argument. “I know she is. One look at her is enough to tell you she’s a lady of good breeding.”

His mother joined him at the fireplace. “A lady of breeding can quite easily fall into bad company and lose her reputation. And what about her maid? Did you fish her also from the seabed?”

Kit huffed. “Of course I didn’t. I’ve brought Loveday Curnow with me as her maid.”

His mother’s lips twitched. “I doubt very much she’ll remember the few skills she had from her days at Carlyon Court. But it will please me to see her again.” Her brows furrowed. “Do not seek to distract me, Kit. Your Miss Lucas must be from somewhere, surely? And you must ascertain where and return her there immediately. A young lady with no background to speak of is not to be trusted.”

“Mother!” Kit exclaimed, his anger rising. “I would have thought that you of all people would be sensitive to her predicament.”

His mother bridled. “Do not bring my origins into this, Kit, or you will feel my wrath.”

What did he care for her wrath? He was the master here, and since the death of his father, this had been his house. “No, mother, your origins are pertinent to my argument, so I will use them.” He caught her hand. “You came from nowhere to marry my father, against the wishes of my grandfather. Yes, he was a younger son of a younger son then, with no thought of inheriting the Ormonde title, but nevertheless, you were not from my father’s social circle. And my father’s family accepted you when they came to know you. So do not ride your high horse when I bring a young lady here whose pedigree you don’t know. Have you become such a snob that you’d turn her out because you’ve not heard of her father?” His lips curled. “Although I seem to remember my grandfather certainly knew of your father—renowned as he was for his smuggling activities.”

His mother’s scowl softened a little. “But Kit, she’s a nobody.”

“As were you, once.”

She pressed her lips together. “You say she has Loveday for a maid?”

He nodded. “I couldn’t bring her here without one. It wouldn’t have been seemly or proper to allow her to travel with me on the mail coach unattended.”

“Well,” she said. “Loveday was ever a lively abigail and no doubt will suit your Miss Lucas with her look of being somewhat… different.” She paused, considering. “And you say her given name is Morvoren? That sounds like a good Cornish name. How appropriate that you pulled a mermaid from the sea.” She shook her head. “I don’t think I’ve ever come across the name Morvoren used before, but if ever it suited a girl, it’s this one. With that hair she almost looks as though she could be one.”

Kit let his lips twitch in the semblance of a smile. “So, she’ll stay, Mother, and you’ll make her welcome?”

His mother nodded. “I will, although I confess that at first, I feared you had brought your light-o-love here to us.”

Now Kit did chuckle. “As if I would. What do you think of me, Mother, that you suspect I would dishonor you by doing that? I have no interest whatsoever in Miss Lucas other than to see her settled safely here, where I know she will be looked after.”

Although that wasn’t strictly true.

Chapter Twelve

Morvoren

Ysella, bubbling with girlish excitement, led Morvoren across the imposing hall and back to the stairs. “This way,” she said, tugging her hand. “We’ll go to my room and find you a gown. I expect my brother has given you the blue room because it’s our finest guest accommodation. But my own is nearly as beautiful, as you’ll see. He allowed me to choose the colors and decorations myself as a present for my birthday.” She swelled with pride. “Now that I’m eighteen.”

At the top of the stairs, an oak floored landing festooned with rugs stretched away in both directions. Down one side ran a row of impressively large doors and down the other, long windows with wooden shutters folded back to either side. A fleeting glimpse of formal gardens showed through them, of hedges and gravel pathways and flowerbeds full of roses. Oblivious to her new friend’s curiosity, Ysella pushed open the second door and pulled Morvoren in after her.

A four-poster bed dominated her bedroom. Was there likely to be one in the blue room? Morvoren hoped so. She’d wanted to sleep in a four-poster ever since she’d seen one at Hampton Court as a child. She surveyed the rest of the room. Ysella’s choice of decorations was vivid, with deep pink walls, curling gold-leafed plasterwork, and a lot of antique furniture.

“Do sit down,” Ysella said, practically pushing Morvoren onto a chaise longue by the window. “And take off your bonnet so I can see how pretty your hair is.”

Feeling more than a bit bulldozed by all this enthusiasm, Morvoren undid the ribbons of her bonnet and took it off. That was better. She tugged off her gloves as well and stowed them inside the bonnet.

“Your hair is beautiful,” Ysella enthused. “So very blonde and so fashionable. How lucky you are. Mine is just a boring brown.”