Page 33 of The Cornish Bride

Ysella, who’d been gazing down at the baby, raised her eyes. “I just hope Kit won’t take against any other suitor who pays me attention. Fitz has a wide circle of friends, so there’s a risk any young gentleman might be a friend of his. I do feel it’s a little unfair to take against a person just because they happen to know someone you don’t like.” She paused, conscious of the fact that she was somewhat contradicting what she’d said to Morvoren after Oliver’s visit.

Morvoren pursed her lips. “Well, you know Kit doesn’t like Fitz. So he’s bound to think that any friend of his would be similar.”

“But that’s unfair too. I like Fitz. Mama likes Fitz. Why can’t Kit?”

Morvoren shrugged. “He is a terrible rake, which you told me yourself. And you know he was in charge of the raids on the smugglers down in Cornwall which led to Kit being shot. He’s not at all popular in Cornwall, which I’ve heard is why he’s back in London.”

Ysella managed a giggle that sounded false even to her, choosing to ignore the bit about leading the revenue men. “But being a rake is part of what makes him so charming. He’s a dreadful flirt, but you know he doesn’t mean it because he’s so candid about having to find an heiress with a fortune. So you just don’t take him seriously.”

Morvoren shifted the baby’s position slightly, as though her arm might be aching, her brow furrowing. “Does it not occur to you that perhaps Captain Featherstone has a similar need? And that is why he has been pursuing you. You said you’ve decided Kit was right. Have you changed your mind again?”

She said it so gently, unlike Kit with his blustering and shouting, Ysella was almost lulled into betraying herself. “I-I don’t know. Perhaps. No. I don’t know. I’m all confused.” She shook her head, aware that if she wasn’t careful, she was going to put her foot well and truly in it. She had to think clearly. “But I don’t care anymore. It’s of no interest to me. I shall never see Ol—Captain Featherstone again, I expect. Kit was right about him.” Better make sure Morvoren wouldn’t start to suspect she hadn’t been honest the other day and wasn’t being entirely honest now.

“Although he is—was—very handsome, and I did fancy myself a little in love with him.” She tilted her head to one side. “I know now that I need to listen to those who know better, like you and Kit and Mama.”

Morvoren’s skeptical expression worried her. Had she laid the contrition on too thickly?

“Are you sure you’re not still a little bit in love with him?” Morvoren probed.

Ysella groped for a response that wouldn’t give her away, and that might match what she’d just said. How hard it was to fence words with a friend who knew her so well. “He told me he loved me,” she tried. “And I believed him. I thought it wouldn’t matter if he had no money of his own, as I have my dowry coming to me.” Had she said too much? “But of course, none of that counts now, as I’ve told Kit I shan’t see him again. Just as Kit wants.” She bestowed a small frown on Morvoren. “But you must promise not to tell any of this to Kit. I don’t want him to know Oliver said he loved me.”

Morvoren returned the frown. “Do you expect me to keep secrets from my husband?”

“Well… I suppose not. I don’t want you to lie to him. Perhaps just don’t tell him unless he expressly asks? That wouldn’t be keeping secrets, would it?”

“That’s as may be. I’m not at all sure I approve of that young man. Captain Featherstone. I think Kit may well be right about him.”

Not Morvoren as well. Ysella’s heart sank. “Kit forbade him from coming here while you’re convalescing. So I shan’t be seeing him.” Now she was lying. “But when I return to Town, when you’re recovered, Kit won’t be able to stop me from seeing him occasionally at balls.” Her lower lip jutted. “He won’t be able to stop him from dancing with me. And dancing with a gentleman doesn’t mean I’m in love with him.”

Morvoren patted her hand. “I thought you just said you’d never see him again. No, it doesn’t matter. I understand how confused you must be feeling. You’re young and you’re impetuous, and it’s only reasonable you should kick over the traces. And you’re right. Kit won’t be able to prevent you from dancing with the captain. But you must be sensible, Ysella, which I know you can be. Kit has told me some bad things about Captain Featherstone.”

Ysella nodded, attempting to school her features into those of a wise and contrite young woman. It hurt to have to lie to Morvoren, but if she knew what she and Oliver had planned, she’d surely betray her to Kit.

*

Sam was inhis office going over the receipts for some of the new mechanized farm equipment Kit had ordered, when the door opened and his employer came in, a frown on his face. He’d clearly been out riding, as he still had his whip in his hand, which he was tapping with vigor against his leg.

“Good day,” Sam said, laying down the papers and leaning back in his seat. “What can I do for you?”

Kit sat down with a thump in the chair on the other side of the desk. “I don’t know.” A scowl darkened his face. “I have a restlessness about me that I can’t pin down.” He looked up. “As though I’m waiting for something bad to happen.”

Sam steepled his fingers. “If you’re worried about Morvoren, I don’t think you need be. And I gather little George is in rude health. Jessie Jenkins is proving to be a wonderful wetnurse. And having her live here is probably a wise move, although I daresay her husband isn’t best pleased.” He chuckled.

Kit shook his head. “I’m more than recompensing him for his troubles, and Jessie is being well-fed so she can produce as much milk as possible. It can’t be easy feeding two babies.” He crossed his legs and laid his whip across his lap. “I don’t think it’s Morvoren I’m so agitated about. I think it’s Ysella.”

“In what way?” Sam asked, cold tendrils creeping across his skin, yet warm blood rushing to his face, as it did every time Ysella was mentioned.

“Well, the trouble is, I just don’t know,” Kit replied, shaking his head. “She’s being just too damned good, and it doesn’t seem natural. Not like her at all. Mama suggested she might be sickening for something. I hope not. We’ve had enough sickness in this house and she’d have to be kept away from Morvoren and George in case she passed it on to them.”

“I haven’t heard of any outbreaks of sickness amongst your tenants.”

“Neither have I. So it has to be something else. When that girl goes quiet, she’s usually plotting something. I know her all too well.”

Sam sucked in his lips. “She could just be missing London. After the excitement of going to balls every week, Ormonde with no visitors must seem very tame to her.”

“Or she’s missing that cad. Even though she swore to me to have nothing more to do with him.”

Sam’s blood ran colder still. “That’s true.” Oh, how he wished it wasn’t.

“But I sent him packing. Told him he couldn’t visit while Morvoren is recovering, so, hopefully he’s returned to London with his tail between his legs in search of a new heiress to dangle after. I hope he tries his hand with a tradesman’s daughter—that’s more in his line. A tradesman would be glad of an army officer and the son of a bishop for a son-in-law and probably overlook that he’s a fortune-hunting cad. He’s not good enough for the sister of a viscount.” He laughed. “Call me a snob if you will, but I’d far rather see my sister wed to an honest Cornish tin miner than I would that man. There’s something about him that rings false, officer or not. He’s no gentleman.”

Sam’s heart did a small leap. If Kit was prepared to see Ysella married to a miner in place of Featherstone, might that mean his own suit would not be disdained? No. A faint hope. Whatever Kit said, he would want Ysella to marry well, preferably to a man with his own country house for her to run, and a title to his name. Surely? And besides this, Ysella would never love him. She’d bestowed her heart, if Kit’s suspicions were correct and she’d been gulling them, on a ne’er-do-well rake. And he, Sam, had lost her forever.