Page 36 of The Cornish Mermaid

“Of course, it didn’t last,” Ysella said. “The daughter of a duke couldn’t be expected to live on the pay of a second lieutenant, but she did stick to her guns for quite a long time.” She chuckled. “Long enough, at least, to have two children.”

Trailing these two children with her, the younger of whom was Captain Carlyon, Lady Elizabeth had returned, her metaphorical tail between her legs, to the comfort of her father’s bosom, or rather, his enormous stately home and its associated luxuries. “I’m sure she was very glad to be home again at Denby Castle.” Ysella snorted with ill-concealed laughter. “But I don’t think she can have truly loved Uncle Robert, or she would have put up with poverty for him.”

“If Captain Carlyon is one of her children,” Morvoren asked. “Who is the other?”

“Cousin Marianne. She’s older even than my sister Derwa. Positively ancient.” Questioning revealed her true age to be thirty-five.

Cousin Marianne, it seemed, had been married for some years to Lord William Fortescue, and Ysella vaguely knew their only daughter, Miss Charlotte Fortescue. “Mama sent me to school for a while, but it didn’t take. Or I didn’t take. I met Charlotte before they packed me off home. She’s younger than me and such a bluestocking. So dull to talk to.”

Marianne’s younger brother, the captain, was of an age with Ysella and Kit’s oldest sister, Derwa, now Lady Monckton, and had been in and out of the house throughout her childhood. Which was how she knew him so well and it seemed had developed a bit of a schoolgirl crush on him when he turned up in his smart regimentals.

“I do know he can be a bit of a rake himself at times,” she said, on a chuckle. “But that’s probably what makes him such fun to have around. Especially with Kit away so often. But I haven’t seen Fitz for almost a year, thanks to him having been posted off somewhere on the continent with his regiment, fighting Boney. I’m glad he’s left soldiering in foreign parts behind, for now.”

She sighed and shook her head as though over a naughty child. “Kit’s so often down in Cornwall at Carlyon Court I need someone to amuse me. I have my dear friend Caro, but she’s quite straitlaced and proper, and whenever I want to have fun, she finds a reason why I shouldn’t.” She sighed again, even more deeply. “I sometimes wish I could go with Kit to Cornwall. I’ve asked him to take me. I don’t remember it at all, as we moved up here to Ormonde when I was a baby after Grandpapa died. But he always tells me no. He can be so vexing.”

Vexing or not, Kit was preferable any day to the captain. However, Morvoren had to push him out of her head. She was a mere visitor here, at least she hoped she was. Surely at some point she’d be able to find a way back to her own time, hopefully not by the watery doorway she’d arrived through. In the meantime, however attractive she found Kit, and however much his touch sent delicious electricity shooting through her, she had to restrain herself and keep aloof. It wouldn’t do at all to become embroiled in a love affair nearly two hundred years before she was born. Who knew what repercussions that might have.

Just then, a footman arrived. He bowed smartly. “Captain Carlyon is waiting in the drawing room, Miss Ysella. Lady Ormonde requests your presence.”

Ysella let out a squeak of excitement and jumped to her feet. “Dear Fitz is here, just as he promised. Come along. We must hurry to greet him.” She tugged Morvoren to her feet.

Morvoren hastened in her new friend’s wake, a feeling of foreboding heavy in her heart. If Ysella had been a twenty-first century teenage girl, she’d have already had her share of boyfriends and known how to behave with young men. But here she’d led a protected life and Morvoren guessed she’d scarcely laid eyes on an eligible man at all. Probably no romantic attachment existed between her and her cousin, and nor would there be on his part as he’d already said he needed to marry an heiress, but that didn’t stop Morvoren feeling matronly disapproval of Ysella’s delight at seeing him again.

Ysella slowed her pace in the hallway, in front of a mirror, of course, and patted her curls into place then did the same for Morvoren. With a look that said, “compose yourself,” she pushed open the drawing room door and they glided elegantly through it.

Lady Ormonde was sitting very upright on one of the sofas, an expression of cool indifference on her lovely face, enough to intimidate the most ardent of beaux. But not this one. She was his aunt, so presumably he knew her of old, and also of her origins. He’d so far given the impression that he’d look down his rather long nose at anyone who’d begun life as a farmer’s daughter. Morvoren bit her lip. Best not to mention her own agricultural origins.

The captain rose to his feet and swept a deep bow, to which both girls returned a suitably demure curtsey. Morvoren had been practicing hers with both Loveday and Ysella’s aid, having explained that where she came from curtseying was not a normal greeting. Ysella had been very taken with this idea, so she’d had to hastily reassure her that she was keen to learn to behave correctly and not to persuade her new friend to adopt her own incorrect manners.

Rising from his bow, the captain favored them both with a sardonic smile, and waves of excitement emanated from Ysella as she and Morvoren took their places side by side on an over-stuffed couch.

“As I promised,” the captain said, raising an arched brow at them, or rather at Morvoren. “I have called to make my presence at Denby known to Lady Ormonde.”

Morvoren had the distinct feeling that Lady Ormonde was not at all susceptible to flattery. She had an air of practicality about her, and a stubborn set to her jaw. It made a nice change seeing her disapproval of someone else.

Lady Ormonde nodded to the footman waiting in the corner, and he pulled on the bell rope beside him. She then turned to the captain. “And pray tell me, how is your grandfather the duke? I have heard that he’s suffering badly from the gout.”

While the captain politely engaged in conversation with Lady Ormonde about his grandfather’s many ailments, Ysella and Morvoren sat straight-backed, thanks to their stays. No doubt sitting and listening was what young ladies were meant to do, but it made for a boring afternoon. Hopefully the captain wouldn’t stay too long.

After five very long minutes, according to the slowly ticking clock on the mantlepiece, a second footman arrived carrying a tray containing a fancy teapot, dainty cups and saucers, and plates of bread and butter and small cakes.

“I hear that you have been away soldiering,” Lady Ormonde said as the footman poured the tea, her tone even more supercilious than it had been with Morvoren. Good.

The captain bowed his head. “That is true, but I’m glad to be back. I was in Spain with Wellington but took a musket ball in the leg and was invalided home. I’ve been recuperating in London at my club, and now I’m heading to Cornwall to join a new unit. But it’s been some while now since I was at Denby, and I wanted to visit my grandfather. He can no longer get up to London.”

Morvoren could feel Ysella almost bouncing next to her in her longing to join the conversation. She put out a hand, took one of hers and squeezed it hard.

Lady Ormonde pressed her lips together as the footman passed cups to Ysella and Morvoren, her gaze still fixed on their visitor. “And was the marquess pleased to have you back at Denby?”

Morvoren’s ears pricked. Who was the marquess?

The captain’s sharp eyebrows met in a frown before he had his face under control. “My uncle is away in London at the moment, at Denby House.”

Aha. The pieces fell into place. Clearly no love lost there. So, his uncle, the one with no sons, was a marquess, and presumably the son of the duke. The heir. The one he’d been so disparaging about the other day. If only she knew a little more about aristocratic titles.

The captain had recovered himself by then and his smile had returned. He smiled a sight too much. Kit’s lack of smiles seemed so much more natural. A smile from him would have real meaning. No. Stop it. She had to stop thinking about Kit.

The captain was talking again. “One of the reasons I rode over here today was to deliver an invitation to you all to come to a ball at Denby in exactly a week’s time.” He paused, and his eyes went to Ysella’s excited face. Did she fancy her cousin? Wasn’t that a teeny bit incestuous? This girl wore her heart far too openly on her sleeve.