On The Shores 0f Tregalwen (A Cornish Romance Book 0.5)

by Deborah M. Hathaway

  “Hello, Thomas!”

  Chapter Three

  Thomas stood frozen, blinking in stunned silence as Hannah, his Hannah, embraced him in the doorway of his home. He looked over her shoulder to see a girl, no doubt her lady’s maid, standing nearby with a wide-eyed, averted gaze, looking no doubt as surprised as Thomas felt.

  Was it truly Hannah embracing him? Had he conjured her from his thoughts only moments ago?

  Her laughter in his ear, soft and lilting, jarred his senses, and only then did he realize his arms hung limply at his sides. He slid his hands around her, holding her close as a flood of emotions and memories rushed over him. Moisture began to seep through his shirt from her wet clothing, but he did not release his hold.

  What was she doing there? Why did she send no notice of her coming? His mind was inundated with questions, so he pulled away to take in the sight of her, his fingers at her waist, her hands on his shoulders.

  “Hannah, what are you…” He paused, staring at the mud smeared across her cheek and forehead, rain dripping from the ends of her blonde hair. Her dress was entirely drenched, her sodden bonnet lopsided, but he had never seen her more beautiful. Her round face had given way to a more slender shape, accentuating her high cheekbones and dimples, but her eyes still sparkled the same shade of blue.

  “Oh, dear, I’ve made your shirt wet,” she said with a sheepish grin, patting his chest with her hand where the fabric clung to his skin.

  Her touch produced a burning sensation in the center of his chest.

  “That is no matter,” he said, taking a step back and releasing his hold of her. “Please, come in. You must be frozen.”

  As if on cue, Hannah shivered, walking into the entryway and speaking over her shoulder. “Come along, Daisy. You mustn’t be frightened of Mr. Causey here. He is as kind a gentleman as any. He and I are dear friends.” She paused, looking over at him. “Aren’t we?”

  He couldn’t understand the hesitance dimming her eyes. “We are, indeed.”

  Her uncertainty melted away, revealing a dazzling smile, and Thomas’s head spun.

  “You must forgive my intrusion,” Hannah said next, her voice giving a jerking sound as she shivered again. “As I said, we left the stagecoach behind, and as it grew dark, I must have taken the road that led me here instead of to my grandparents’ home.”

  “It is no trouble, of course,” he responded. “There is a fire lit in the study. You remember the way.”

  She nodded, turning to the hallway on the right. He followed behind her, staring in amusement at the puddles of water she left behind with each step. His mouth continued to open and close, unable to settle on what to say, so rapidly did his mind churn through questions about her reappearance.

  “So, you traveled by stagecoach?” he finally asked her.

  “Yes, we did. I had forgotten how long and arduous the journey was.”

  They entered the study, and as Hannah pulled the hesitant Daisy toward the hearth, Thomas rang the servant’s bell and retrieved a couple of blankets from a hutch near his desk.

  “And your mother agreed to you traveling in such a way?”

  Hannah paused in removing Daisy’s bonnet and cloak. She looked over at Thomas, squinting her eyes in a sort of wince.

  He chuckled. “She doesn’t know you’ve come, does she?”

  Hannah continued helping the girl before removing her own sopping outerwear. “We have traveled for nearly three days, so I hope she has noticed my absence by now.”

  Thomas took the clothing from Hannah and draped it over a chair, water pooling instantly beneath them, before he handed her the blankets.

  “I assume you left a very vague note?”

  Her dimples deepened as she wrapped the fur cover around Daisy. “The vaguest.”

  He smiled and watched her nearly force her lady’s maid to sit near the fireplace, the girl clearly uncomfortable with the attention Hannah showed her.

  “And when did you decide to come to Cornwall?” he asked next.

  Hannah straightened and turned to face him, throwing a blanket around her shoulders with a smile as vibrant as he remembered.

  “About six hours before I left.”

  He couldn’t help but laugh again. “You are still the same as you have always been, I see.”

  Slowly, her smile faded away. “Yes, still just as daft.”

  “No, not daft,” he said at once, wondering at her self-deprecation. “I was merely saying you were still impulsive. And there is certainly nothing wrong with that, so long as you are happy.”

  She stared at him, her mouth parting. He wondered if he should tell her about the mud on her brow and cheek, but she looked even more appealing with the imperfections, so he remained silent.

  Before they could say another word, the door opened, and he tore his gaze away from Hannah as the housekeeper entered the room with a nightcap on her head. When her eyes fell upon Hannah, the woman visibly stiffened before turning to Thomas with a curtsy.

  “Sir?”

  “Mrs. Parr, you remember Miss Summerfield?”

  The housekeeper narrowed her eyes over her pinched nose. “Miss.”

  “Lovely to see you again,” Hannah said with a blush before averting her gaze.

  “Forgive my late-night request,” Thomas said, “but would you mind calling for the carriage? Miss Summerfield and her lady’s maid could also benefit from a cup of tea and a few biscuits, I think.”

  “Of course,” Mrs. Parr said, and she turned on her heel and left the room, but not before sending a suspicious glance in Hannah’s direction.

  “I really do not wish to cause trouble,” Hannah said as soon as they were alone.

  Thomas shook his head, motioning to the chair nearby as he sat down upon the sofa across from her. “Nonsense. You spent half of your childhood within these walls, Hannah. Just because Mrs. Parr undoubtedly recalls the number of pies you stole from our kitchen does not mean you should feel uncomfortable here.”

  Hannah pressed a hand against her brow as she sat. “You think she remembers that, then?”

  “Did you see the look she gave you as she left?” he asked with a quirked brow. “She absolutely remembers. And our cook does, as well.”

  “Oh, dear.”

  Thomas laughed. “I would not worry too much about it. After all, they have forgiven me for sharing in the spoils of your thievery.”

  Hannah scoffed. “Thievery. They were hardly jewels. And I only did so once or twice—”

  “Every month…for fifteen years.”

  Hannah beamed at Thomas’s teasing. Was she really there with him in his study, speaking like the old friends they were? She felt as if she were in a pleasant dream from which she never wished to be awakened.

  She leaned back in her chair, considering him once more, still reeling at the changes that had come over him.

  His boyish frame had nearly doubled in size, broad shoulders and a lean figure revealing that the gentleman was not afraid of working hard on his estate. He had grown a full head taller than Hannah, something she had been quick to realize when she had to stand on the tips of her toes to embrace him. His strong jaw was shadowed in stubble she was certain he had been unable to grow before, and his hair no longer fell across his brow. However, his grin, even after all those years, still caused her heart to flutter.

  As the warmth from the fire soothed her limbs, Hannah leaned back in her chair with a smile. “How very strange this is, to be here with you as if no time has passed by at all. Has it truly been three years since we have seen one another?”

  Thomas nodded. “And two since we last exchanged letters.”

  A heavy silence filled the room. Thomas had mentioned only moments ago that they were still friends, but…did his lack of letters truly denote his desire to end further association with her? If so, she was an absolute fool for going to his house at all.

  “So, tell me,” Thomas said across from her, breaking through the silence, “how was living in Lon
don? I gather you grew to love it after all?”

  The dark cloud creeping over Hannah’s spirits grew thicker. Images of bright chandeliers and swirling dancers replaced any peace that might have appeared upon her arrival in Cornwall.

  “No,” she began, “I did not care for it.”

  Thomas pulled back, a look of confusion settling on his brow before he nodded. “Just as you predicted, then?”

  She forced a smile. “Just so.”

  “Your mother still enjoys it, though?”

  Hannah fought a grimace. She did not want to think of the woman. That would mean acknowledging the fact that Hannah had agreed to consider marrying Mr. Hawkins. Should she go back on her word, she assumed her mother would threaten to strip her of her dowry, and with her grandparents’ declining funds, Hannah was running out of options for a livable future.

  Before her worrisome thoughts could continue further, Hannah took a deep breath and forced another smile.

  “Yes, Mother enjoys London,” she said, “but I still prefer Cornwall.”

  Thomas nodded. “ I am glad to hear that.”

  The door opened again, and Mrs. Parr entered with a small tray, placing it rather noisily on the table before leaving the room with a bobbed curtsy.

  “You are right,” Hannah said, her brows pulling close together. “She does remember me.”

  Thomas laughed again, the deep, rich sound causing her to forget about the wet clothing still clinging to her body and the unpleasant thoughts of London.

  “Did you make many friends while there?” Thomas asked, pouring the tea into two cups.

  “I suppose.”

  She accepted the cup he offered her and watched as he extended the second to Daisy, who took it with trembling fingers, staring down at the tea as if she had never drunk before.

  “And how many gentlemen’s hearts did you manage to break?”

  The blood drained from her face, shots of alarm soaring throughout her body. Did he know about Mr. Hawkins? She was certain she had never written about him. There had been no reason to. Could her mother have told him though? Her grandparents?

  “Why, none, I hope,” she replied with a nervous laugh.

  Thomas must have caught her discomfort. He nodded and looked away.

  Hannah glanced to Daisy, who appeared entirely unaware of their conversation as she stared into the fire, blinking slowly with fatigue. Then Hannah returned her attention to Thomas. “Do you enjoy running Leighton House as your own?”

  “I do. The work the estate provides me with is very satisfying.”

  She nodded, and an uncomfortable silence arose between them. She took a sip of her tea, the liquid spreading throughout her like a blazing fire.

  What was the matter with her? She had not spoken face-to-face with Thomas in years. There ought to be hundreds of questions to ask him. So why could she think of nothing to say?

  As images of white cravats, shined shoes, and dignified brows spun about her mind, she knew why. She wished to speak with Thomas just like before, but how could she after they had both changed and their relationship suffered?

  Nothing was the same as before, and the realization caused a great sadness to press down on her mind.

  “Do you know how long you are to stay?”

  Thomas’s voice rang in her ears. “No, I do not.”

  “Well, what with your hasty departure, I don’t imagine that you have had the opportunity to think much on what you will do while here.”

  “No, I haven’t really.”

  He averted his gaze. “Do you recall the small gatherings we used to have on Tregalwen Beach? With the farmers, our tenants, and a few of our neighbors?”

  Hannah’s spirits lifted slightly at the pleasant memories his words evoked. “Of course. I always enjoyed them.”

  “Well, we are holding one tomorrow evening,” he said, his fingers tapping upon his knees. “I understand if you wish to spend your time with your grandparents, though they are welcome to join us, as well, but…do you think you might wish to come?”

  Hannah’s heart swelled. “I would love to, Thomas.”

  The creases around his eyes returned as he smiled. “Excellent.”

  Mrs. Parr entered the room then, drawing their attention to her lingering, tight-lipped expression. “The carriage is ready, sir.”

  “Thank you,” Thomas said with a sidelong glance at Hannah.

  “Yes, thank you for your trouble,” Hannah said, setting her cup aside and standing from her chair. She made to say more, but when she followed the woman’s disapproving gaze to the mark her wet gown had left upon the chair, she cringed. “Oh, I am terribly sorry.”

  Thomas merely smiled. “Not to worry, Miss Summerfield. It will dry. Will it not, Mrs. Parr?”

  The housekeeper’s nostrils flared as she gave a curt nod and left the room with a curtsy and a swish of her skirts.

  Thomas’s barely restrained laughter filled the room, and Hannah held a finger to her lips, though she laughed right alongside him as they left the study.

  A short carriage ride later through the mud and rain, and Hannah, Daisy, and Thomas arrived at Rudhek Manor. The butler showed Daisy the way to the servant’s quarters before he sought out Hannah’s grandparents.

  Hannah remained in the entryway, not wishing to track water throughout the manor like she had done at Leighton House. As her eyes roved over her childhood home, a feeling of nostalgia washed over her.

  The third step on the carpeted staircase still held the stain where she had spilled hot chocolate, sneaking a cup to her room after dark. The floral curtains framing the leaded windows remained patched in the top corner—a sign of where Hannah had torn the fabric, swinging from it as a child.

  A blush spread across her cheeks at the evidence of her burdensome, childish behavior, and she worried again over how her grandparents would react to her arrival.

  She fleetingly noticed the new chandelier lighting the room and the fresh coat of blue paint upon the walls before her eyes fell upon Thomas, who remained near the door.

  Suddenly, Hannah became acutely aware of their seclusion. She had not been alone with Thomas, or any gentleman for that matter, in three years. Ever since she had ridden on the beach with him.

  “Will you wait for my grandparents to come down, so you may see them, as well?” she asked, her hands wringing together.

  Thomas shook his head. “No, I’ll leave you to enjoy your reunion with them alone.”

  “Of course.” She stared at the floor. “I must thank you for your help this evening. Especially for not turning me back out into the rain when I appeared before you in such a way.”

  He nodded in silence, appearing to hesitate a moment before taking a step toward her. “Hannah, I am so pleased to see you again. I hope tomorrow we may speak more…like we used to.”

  Their eyes met, and her breath hitched when he reached forward, brushing a soft thumb against her cheek. “You may want to wash up a bit before then, though.” And with a wink that caused her heart to flutter, he slipped through the door and left the manor before she could say a word.

  Hannah raised a hand to her tingling cheek, and she blushed as she felt the mud caked to her skin.

  Instead of cringing at what she must look like, she could only smile.

  It was true they had both changed over the years, but perhaps not everything was so very different, after all.

  Chapter Four

  “I see you remembered where we kept the paint.”

  Hannah looked over her shoulder to see her grandmother, Mrs. Ann Summerfield, entering the parlor.

  “Yes, Grandfather was kind enough to allow me the use of them,” she replied. “I hope that is all right.”

  “Of course,” Mrs. Summerfield said, placing a kiss atop Hannah’s head. “We have always kept up a fresh supply, hoping you would return to use them. And now, here you are.”

  Hannah smiled at her grandmother before looking back at her canvas. She sat facing the window, hopi
ng to capture the view of the green countryside rolling beyond the manor, but her mind dwelled on her grandmother’s eyes focused in her direction.

  The previous evening, after their initial shock had faded, Hannah’s grandparents had welcomed her to Rudhek Manor with open arms. Hannah had been foolish to think they would do otherwise, but she still sat uneasy that morning, for she did not relish the thought of asking her grandparents if they could afford to keep her.

  “Did you sleep well, my dear?” her grandmother asked, moving to sit on the nearby sofa. She leaned back, a soft smile on her lips.

  “I did, thank you,” Hannah said, shifting in her seat. “I noticed you left my room the same. I felt like a little girl sleeping in there again.”

  “We didn’t have the heart to change it,” Mrs. Summerfield said with a smile, deep wrinkles in her cheeks. “Do you remember when we purchased those hangings for your bed? You refused to sleep there for weeks.”

  Hannah smiled at the memory. “I crept into your room every night until I grew used to them. Mother was so upset when you wrote to her of my obstinance.” Her brow furrowed. “I suppose nothing has changed in that regard.”

  When Hannah had woken up that morning, she had felt as if she could breathe for the first time in years. There were no plans to entertain callers, no clothes to be decided upon, no shops to visit. She rose without the sound of a servant tapping upon her door at her mother’s request. The day lay unfolded before her, to be spent in whatever way she wished, and she relished the thought. She knew her mother would be upset with Hannah’s escape to Cornwall, but Hannah could not return to London, not after tasting such freedom and peace again. She would not.

  Her grandmother’s words broke through her thoughts. “We did not have much opportunity to speak last evening. How was your mother before you left? She must be beside herself with worry.”

  Hannah returned to staring out of the window at the hedges in the distance. “I sent a letter already to let her know I have arrived at the manor safely.”

  “She will certainly be relieved. Does she still keep you busy, taking you around the whole of London?”