The Passions of Lord Trevethow

by Bronwyn Scott

  She did flame for him, for a while, one kiss leading to another kiss and another as their mouths and hands explored one another. She could have lain there all afternoon, revelling in those kisses, those touches. She would have burned for him if he’d asked, but he did not. Instead, he separated from her, breaking the kisses, the touches, his own eyes dark.

  A wave of desperation welled in her. She did not want the kiss to end. If she did not take her chance now, when? His hand brushed her cheek, pushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. ‘It grows late. We don’t need to rush. We have tomorrow and the day after that and the day after that. We have as long as we need,’ Matthew whispered his promise and helped her up from the floor, but his gaze said he was as reluctant as she to end the afternoon.

  He gathered up her dry cloak and draped it over her shoulders, his hands lingering in his familiar gesture. ‘Will you allow me to give you a ride home? I have my horse out back.’

  She turned beneath his touch, called to action with sudden urgency at the risk of exposure. As tempting as it was, it was the one thing she could not allow. ‘No. Please, Matthew, I must insist on this discretion. You cannot follow me home, not even the briefest of distances.’ If anyone recognised her with him, word would reach her father before she even made it home and there would never be another afternoon like this. ‘Please, kiss me goodbye here.’ And maybe by the time she was home she’d have her wits back.

  Chapter Six

  He was going to need a new strategy to outwit Redruth and get the earl’s attention. The bliss of the afternoon had given him a break from the situation with Redruth, but now it was time to get back to business. All the standard methods of persuasion had failed with the earl. Cassian drained his tankard and called for more as a tavern wench sashayed by with a swing of lush hips and a saucy smile. ‘Another for my friend as well.’ Cassian winked at Inigo seated across from him at the table. ‘We have much to discuss, we’ve got to keep our throats wet.’

  ‘You’re in a good mood despite the setback today.’ Inigo eyed him with his usual scepticism. ‘You weren’t this pleasant when you rode out this afternoon. Your mood was downright foul, if I recall. To what do we owe this change of disposition?’

  ‘Fresh air.’ Cassian shrugged non-committally, wanting to keep Em and his secret rendezvous to himself a little while longer. The afternoon had carried a quiet eroticism in its simplicity—two people talking, two strangers moving from the unknown to the known through conversation before a fire. That conversation had led to a kiss and that kiss to more kisses. Cassian didn’t kid himself that the setting alone had been the chief contributor to the direction the afternoon had taken. Not just any woman, not just any rainy day would have kept him floating on air hours later. He was too experienced for that. It was she, the mysterious Em, who was responsible for his mood. He’d wrapped himself in the memory of her when he’d left the cottage: her mouth, her touch, her voice when she’d whispered her dreams: ‘I want to go to Venice. I want adventure.’ He would see her again tomorrow. He could hardly wait. It had been a long time since he could hardly wait to see a woman.

  ‘All right, keep your secrets.’ Inigo laughed. ‘I can see you’re not going to tell me about it.’ The serving girl came back with the ales and another round of smiles that turned to a pout when Cassian didn’t reciprocate. Cassian slid her extra coins for her disappointment and sent her away. Ales settled, they could return to their discussion without interruption.

  ‘I’ve tried letters of enquiry, I’ve tried raising my offer, I’ve tried outlining all the benefits. None of it has worked. He insists the land remain in the family even though it is unentailed. It was bought by his grandfather and hasn’t been used for anything since his grandfather passed.’ Cassian threw up his hands. ‘I can’t decide what upsets me more: that the earl is intractable or that the land is just sitting there rotting for no reason.’

  ‘Well, not really “no reason”,’ Inigo, always the voice of logic, put in slowly as if he knew the words would be upsetting. ‘It’s part of his daughter’s dowry. Perhaps he cannot simply give it away without damaging her prospects.’ Inigo knew money intimately. He made money, invested money, for himself and for others. Better than anyone, Inigo understood people’s often intense, irrational attachment to things. Hadn’t Inigo called him out on those very grounds yesterday?

  Cassian rolled his eyes. ‘Her prospects would be improved twofold if the money received for the sale was put back into the dowry. The company has offered twice what the land’s worth.’

  ‘Money can be frittered away, it can disappear before you know it, even a substantial sum like that. Perhaps her father feels that land will last where money will not. He’s not wrong,’ Inigo put in, playing the devil’s advocate.

  Cassian nodded, willing to concede the point. ‘Perhaps. But that doesn’t solve my problem. How do I convince him to sell me the land? He did not care for my plans at all. In fact, I think being open about what I wanted to do with the land hurt my case more than helped it.’ Cassian took a swallow of ale and recounted the unpleasant letter, enumerating Redruth’s complaints. ‘He sees my plans as wholesale corruption, not progress,’ Cassian concluded. The thought of not acquiring the land ate at him daily. What would he do if he couldn’t break through to the earl?

  ‘He doesn’t want to lose control of the land,’ Inigo ventured. ‘That’s what’s at the heart of this. Have you thought of leasing the land from him? Perhaps a ninety-nine-year lease like they do with property in London? The land would still be his technically, but you would own any development that occurs on it. The land would be yours for three generations. Your grandsons could tussle it out with his great-grandsons after you’re long gone.’ Inigo laughed.

  ‘And if he refuses?’ Cassian queried, not entirely hopeful.

  Inigo arched eyebrow. ‘Plan B. I thought we settled that yesterday. You can always marry for it. It would be less of a tussle in three generations if it was all in the family.’

  Cassian shook his head. ‘I’ve already thought of that and, no, I just couldn’t.’ Especially not after this afternoon. He did not want to sell himself, not when there was such honest pleasure to be had with a woman he chose of his own accord.

  Inigo leaned across the table and lowered his voice. ‘Will you listen before you dismiss the idea out of hand? Consider all the pieces aligning at just this moment before you discard the option.’

  ‘Are you a fortune teller now?’ Cassian retorted sharply.

  ‘Do you want to hear the rest of my news or not?’ Inigo was undaunted. They’d been friends too long for him to be put off easily. It was what made them such good business partners as well. ‘In fact, marrying for the land could be the piece of serendipity you’re looking for. I did some more digging today after you left. The earl might not be open to selling the land, but he is open to marrying off his daughter, which could be the reason he isn’t keen at this moment to separate the land from the dowry.’ Inigo threw a quick glance around the taproom to be sure no one was listening in. ‘He’s been bringing suitors to Castle Byerd. It’s all very hushed up. But Lord Wadesbridge was invited to tea yesterday.’

  ‘Wadesbridge is too old,’ Cassian shot back, but he didn’t miss the smug gleam in Inigo’s eyes.

  ‘Perhaps that’s what the daughter thought too. Perhaps that’s why there’s a dinner party tonight at Castle Byerd with some of the area’s finest young gentlemen in attendance.’ He smiled, pleased with himself, much to Cassian’s chagrin. Cassian hated when Inigo might have a point.

  ‘And we weren’t invited? Who is finer than ourselves, if we’re being blunt? It makes no sense that we’re cooling our heels at the Red Dragon while young men of lesser standing are dining at Byerd.’ Cassian played the devil’s advocate.

  Inigo chuckled. ‘Actually, it makes perfect sense. I’ve made no bones about the fact that I’ve no intentions to marry in the near futu
re and, if Redruth wants Vennor Penlerick for his daughter, the earl will have to go to London to get him, which would require Redruth doing the very things he hates the most: socialising and entertaining. If he wants a duke for her, you’re the only real candidate out of the three of us who remains unwed. But it’s too soon to go after you. If you’d shown up tonight, you would have intimidated the field. If he wants you, he’ll want to draw your attention, make you inquisitive enough to want to meet the girl everyone else is meeting. Men are often attracted to something they have to compete for. It’s simple supply and demand.’ Inigo looked pleased with his analysis, and Cassian had to admit his friend was probably right. It did not, however, make the prospect more appealing.

  ‘Perhaps I should just let all those swains have her.’ Which suited Cassian just fine. He didn’t want to marry for an alliance.

  Inigo shrugged. ‘That’s up to you. All I am saying is that the window of opportunity is open at present. Redruth is eager to marry her off this Season,’ Inigo pressed. ‘If you’re going to build that amusement garden here, you need that land now. Time is of the essence for the both of you. Marriage might be the way to convince him. He might not like your plans once he knows you and the land company are one and the same, but he will like your title. That hasn’t been on the table in your negotiations. It could change everything and it would keep his land in the family where he feels as though he can assert some control. I’d wager in a few years’ time, when he sees that his perceived harms haven’t come to fruition and that you’re making money hand over fist for him, he’ll forget he ever disliked the idea. He’ll think his son-in-law is a genius.’

  Cassian shook his head, thinking of a caramel-haired minx kissing him beside the gamekeeper’s fire with her hungry mouth, and her love of adventure. ‘You make it sound so easy. I should simply walk in and trade my title for his daughter’s dowry and break ground after my honeymoon.’ It would give him everything he wanted.

  ‘It can be that easy,’ Inigo replied evenly. ‘Other men do it all the time.’

  ‘Other men.’ Cassian threw the words back at him. ‘Since when have we ever aspired to be like other men?’ That was the flaw in Inigo’s analysis. ‘We’re the Cornish Dukes, four fathers and four sons sworn to living by a higher code in life and in love,’ Cassian reminded him. ‘Or have you so quickly forgotten the legacy of Richard Penlerick?’

  He’d gone too far there. Inigo’s blue eyes sparked and narrowed. ‘We all loved Richard, me no less than any of us,’ Inigo snapped. ‘Of course I haven’t forgotten. I have not forgotten how he encouraged Eaton’s pursuit of a conservatory or how he supported your endeavour to raise up the economy. Perhaps he would consider an alliance with Redruth a worthy investment for the goal.’

  ‘A marriage without love?’ Cassian spat the words with disgust. He was too raw from his afternoon with Em. Discussing the idea of courting another for monetary gain so soon after coming from Em’s arms seemed a betrayal of their game in the cottage.

  ‘Perhaps it’s all in how you view it. Maybe you’ve been looking at it wrong? Why should we view the event of a wedding as the apex of love? Is everything else downhill from there? Why not view the wedding as the beginning of the journey to love? You have the next fifty years to fall in love with your bride,’ Inigo counselled.

  ‘Says the man who doesn’t intend to wed any time soon.’ Cassian gave an exaggerated sniff. ‘Methinks I smell a little hypocrisy in the air.’ He gave his friend a half-smile. ‘You would have a hard time selling that rationale to Cador and Rosenwyn, or to Eaton and Eliza, or to any of our parents.’

  ‘That doesn’t make it untrue.’ Inigo grinned, enjoying their debate too much. ‘Now, tell me your secret. Who is she?’

  ‘What makes you think a woman is involved?’ Cassian felt a sudden wave of protectiveness with regards to Em.

  ‘What other reason would you have to be so irritated over marriage and the principles of love?’ Inigo was enjoying this too much. His friend called for another round. ‘This one’s on me. Tell me everything. How did you meet? How long has this been going on?’ At Inigo’s grin the tension that had underlaid the heat of their discussion eased. They’d been friends since boyhood, friends for too long to let disagreement sour the evening. They’d disagreed before and they likely would again, but they would still and always be friends.

  ‘I met her at the St Piran’s Day fair. We walked, we talked, I met her again today and we spent the afternoon together. She’s incredible; she’s beautiful, and witty, and she has a voice like smoke, low and throaty. I am meeting her again tomorrow.’

  ‘Does she know who you are?’ Inigo’s scepticism was in full evidence, and Cassian knew where that line of questioning led. Inigo feared she was a fortune hunter. It was a well-meant sort of protection after Collin’s ill-fated romance. But tonight, such caution was unnecessary.

  ‘That’s the best part...’ Cassian leaned in ‘...I’ve taken precautions. We made up names for each other. She doesn’t know I’m a viscount, heir to a dukedom. She is simply Em to me and I am Matthew to her. We can be ourselves.’ Surely Inigo would understand why the principle of love mattered so greatly. ‘Now you see why I can’t simply storm Castle Byerd and carry off Redruth’s daughter.’

  ‘No, I don’t see. You’re not simply being yourself. You’re being someone you made up.’

  ‘It’s not like that. We are still ourselves. I am myself, perhaps as I can never be with a society miss. We can talk and laugh and tell stories and share our dreams. Only the names are false, everything else is true,’ Cassian tried to explain, but even as the words came the argument rang hollow.

  ‘That’s all well and good as far as it goes. But how far does it go?’ Inigo asked. ‘You can’t possibly think anything comes of it. There can’t be marriage. Even if the pleasure garden wasn’t an issue, there couldn’t be marriage.’

  ‘Do you think I don’t know that? Do you think I’m some green boy who falls in love with the first woman he lays down with?’ Cassian snapped with more heat than he intended, perhaps because he knew Inigo was right, perhaps because those were the very thoughts he’d had today and had pushed away. He wanted to think only about today and tomorrow. If he thought beyond the day, beyond the immediate, he’d have to think about losing Em. He wasn’t ready to think about that. He’d have to eventually, though.

  ‘No, I don’t think that. But I do see my friend perhaps hesitating on the brink of success and I have to wonder why. I have to wonder if this peasant girl isn’t a distraction, a convenient foil that excuses him from not moving forward.’ Inigo’s voice was a low hiss. ‘If today showed you anything it was that you are down to two choices. Marry the earl’s daughter or build the park in Truro instead.’ He paused. ‘Or don’t build it at all.’

  ‘The last is not an option,’ Cassian shot back. ‘I know what my choices are, I don’t need you to spell them out. I know the cottage affair can’t last. But it’s not May yet. I have until the Season starts to make up my mind.’

  Inigo nodded. ‘Fair enough.’ A truce had been reached. Cassian knew his duty not only to his family, but to himself and to his brother and he would do it when the time came. But May seemed ages away from the cold March weather. There was always the possibility that Redruth might relent before then.

  Inigo pushed back from the table. ‘I think I’ll call it a night. I have to be at Wheal Karrek early tomorrow to meet with the mine’s shareholders to discuss Eliza’s latest plans.’

  Cassian rose with him, taking the change in conversation as an olive branch. He didn’t want to part with his friend on poor terms. ‘Eliza is keeping you busy. I thought she’d be back to the mines full time by now.’ She’d asked for Inigo’s help with the mines six months ago when she’d wed Eaton and become Lady Lynford. It was supposed to have been a temporary arrangement.

  Inigo laughed and shook his head. ‘Her new mine schools and
her new marriage are taking up more time than she anticipated. I’ve never seen Eaton happier and she positively glows. Her daughter, Sophie, is at Kitto’s conservatory now as a day student. I heard her play the other day. She’s very talented. Cador Kitto positively drools over her.’

  The conversation carried them out into the crisp night air. They talked of the upcoming spring recital in April and Cador’s impending fatherhood at the end of the month. Cassian clapped Inigo on the shoulder. ‘Thank you for coming out with me tonight. Whether or not I agree with you, I appreciate your advice. As always, it is insightful, old friend.’

  Inigo nodded. ‘And as always, I am happy to give it. I don’t envy you your dilemma. Just remember to think with your head.’

  Cassian watched Inigo disappear into the dark before getting his horse and setting out for The Elms. Overhead the stars were bright white points of light in a black sky. At a fork in the road, the left steered towards home, but the right steered towards Castle Byerd and the little dinner party to which he’d not been invited. For several moments he played with the idea of just turning up, but it would accomplish nothing other than to risk further alienating Redruth. Cassian turned his horse towards home. Storming the castle would have to wait for another day. His heart wasn’t in it. If his heart was anywhere, it was on the cliffs at the gamekeeper’s cottage with Em.

  * * *

  The moment Pen returned to Castle Byerd, she wanted to be back in the cottage. Byerd was abuzz with more activity than it had seen in years. ‘For the dinner party, my lady,’ one maid said, rushing by with an urn of flowers. The dinner party? This was the first she’d heard of it.