“Precisely.”
“And do you do this often, nap on the beach?”
“As often as I can, but only ever when my parents are occupied with other matters. If it were my choice, I would be out here every day. I far prefer spending my leisure time here on the sand.”
“Especially when your other option is to play the dreadful pianoforte.”
She pulled her lips together in an attempt to hide her smile, but her eyes were as bright as the sunshine above them.
They reached the dry sand on the other side of the rocks, but Frederick continued carrying her. “So why do you prefer napping here, instead of in your gardens, perhaps under the shade of a tree, or near a bed of flowers?”
Her arms were draped loosely around his shoulders now. “Napping outside is always enjoyable, to be sure. And those would be fine spots in which to rest. But I have yet to discover anywhere as peaceful as the beach with its soothing waves, warm sand, and cool breeze.”
She closed her eyes and craned her neck, the sun gracing her cheeks. The scent of roses wafted toward him as she moved. She was far too appealing for her own good. And his own good.
When they reached his horse, Frederick finally lowered the woman’s feet down into the warm sand.
She smoothed down her skirts. “Well, thank you, Mr. Hawkins. I really could not abide another lecture from Mother. I do not know how I can ever repay you.”
He picked up her belongings and helped balance them in her arms. “If you are looking for a way to settle the debt, I would not be opposed to you sharing your name with me.”
Her eyes sparkled as she took a step back. “One day I will, sir, as I have a feeling this will not be the last time we will see one another.”
“How can you know such a thing, miss?”
She continued to walk backwards, her skirts flapping softly against her legs in the wind. “Because you seem to be just the type of gentleman who always finds a woman in distress.”
“Are you in distress?” he asked, raising his voice above the waves as she moved farther away.
“No, sir. But if ever I am, I’m certain you will find me.” She took another step, but her foot caught in the sand. She stumbled back a few paces. Frederick moved forward to help her, but she managed to right herself without falling.
“Perhaps I will be in distress sooner than either of us realize,” she said with a laugh.
He grinned in response.
With a small curtsy, the woman turned and walked away. Her boots in her hand swung from side to side, the stockings poking out from the tops of them.
As he untied and mounted his horse, Frederick’s attention continually wavered toward the woman until she disappeared from his view.
He turned back to the spot on the beach where he’d first found her asleep. The waves’ long arms had already swept over the sand, and the water sparkled blue, like the woman’s eyes.
His lip twitched. He had a good feeling about Cornwall. A very good feeling, indeed.
Chapter Two
“Miss Rosewall, what a treasure you are.”
“Indeed. The brightest treasure of all!”
Sophia Rosewall lowered her eyes to feign embarrassment. “Oh, gentlemen, you certainly do know how to make a woman blush.”
She smiled coyly. As Mother said, feigning modesty was always becoming. Though, remaining humble was difficult when two gentlemen such as these fawned over Sophia, even with rehearsed praises. Dinner had not even begun, and they’d already started to thickly coat her with their sweetness.
She was deserving of their attention, though, for how she looked that evening. Every dark lock of her hair was curled to perfection, not a single wrinkle blemished the blue silk of her gown, and her white gloves were pristine, free of any catches in the fabric. She looked just as she should as the daughter of the wealthy host and hostess of that evening’s dinner party at Fynwary Hall. No wonder the gentlemen couldn’t keep their eyes off of her.
She fluttered the fan beneath her chin, her ringlets dancing about her temples in a way Mother always said looked appealing, though it tickled Sophia’s skin mercilessly.
“Honestly, gentlemen,” she continued, “you must cease your delightful compliments, or I shall swoon. Or you must at least direct them elsewhere for a time so I may cool my cheeks.”
“I shall never stop then,” Mr. Singleton said. He was the taller of the two gentlemen standing at either side of her. He possessed a head full of thick hair darker than even hers. “I enjoy that pretty pink on your cheeks far too greatly to see it fade away so soon.”
“I won’t stop either,” Mr. Chester piped in, nearly eye-level with Sophia, “for I would like to catch you, should you swoon.”
She placed a hand on both his and Mr. Singleton’s arms. “Then I will continue blushing and swooning so both of your wishes shall be granted. Mr. Singleton, you may admire my rosy cheeks, and Mr. Chester, you may catch me as I swoon.”
Sophia responded to their laughter with a look of amusement. She’d first met the two friends a few months ago in London, before the gentlemen had come to visit Mr. Singleton’s poorly grandmother in St. Just. They were handsome and agreeable, and she enjoyed their doting as much as the next woman, though she didn’t consider either of them serious suitors. Mother, on the other hand, did.
Sophia glanced across the room to where her mother watched her with an approving smile, rubies glinting at her throat. Mother obviously hoped for one of these gentlemen to be Sophia’s future husband, but without love, Sophia could not be convinced. Fortunately, her parents and their wealth would allow her to make her own decision of whom to marry. And she would marry for love, just as her mother and father had.
Father. Where was he? Sophia looked about the room, but he was nowhere in sight. Come to think of it, she hadn’t seen him at all that day.
Before she could deliberate his whereabouts, Mr. Singleton’s voice drew her attention back to her admirers.
“Do tell us, Miss Rosewall, what form of entertainment we shall be blessed to have this evening.”
“Surely dancing,” Mr. Chester said in his unusually high voice.
Mr. Singleton waved a hand in the air. “Dancing is fine enough, but we can do that at any ball. I should like to hear Miss Rosewall pleasure us with her talent at the pianoforte.”
“Oh, yes, Singleton.” Mr. Chester nodded, pushing out his chest to appear larger than he was, standing next to his friend. “Or perhaps we could hear her recite a lovely poem?”
Sophia bit back a groan and placed another modest smile on her lips. “I would love to do both, gentlemen, but I certainly cannot do everything in one evening.”
“Oh, surely you can do everything, Miss Rosewall.”
“Yes, surely.”
Sophia let out a hollow laugh. This was what she had been dreading. She’d begged Mother to forgo a performance from Sophia that evening, whether at the pianoforte or reading aloud, but Mother had been hesitant. She enjoyed basking in Sophia’s accomplishments. Sophia typically reveled in the attention, as well, but having to perform talents she despised was always unbearable.
Her parents would hardly appreciate her admitting to such a thing, though, and she couldn’t risk the censorious looks and rejection she would receive from the rest of Society. If her mother expected her to perform, then she would do her duty, no matter how exhausting it may be.
“Your playing, Miss Rosewall, is simply divine,” Mr. Singleton continued.
“Truly, a talent that was given to you straight from Heaven,” Mr. Chester agreed. “I will surely push to hear a performance of any type.”
Sophia nearly winced. “Really, gentlemen, you are both too kind.”
They were kind, and courteous, and attentive. But with her spirits rapidly deflating, she wished she could be anywhere but in that drawing room. The beach, perhaps. Where she could be free for a moment to walk barefooted across the sand, to feel the wind in her hair. To happen upon Mr. Hawkins again.
The very name made her lips beg to release their smile. She knew she ought to be concentrating on Mr. Singleton and Mr. Chester, but as they argued about who valued her pianoforte playing better, she allowed her mind to wander to the stranger’s gallant rescue of her that morning.
Of course, it was more of a service than a rescue, as she was perfectly capable of climbing over the rocks herself. His offer to carry her had been so generous, she could hardly deny his help.
She warmed at the memory of his arms around her. He’d held her with such care, and he had not seemed to mind a drop about her state of undress. Perhaps that was why she had not hesitated to speak so candidly with him. That, and she was already at ease, due to the absence of her parents and the rest of Society.
Her cheeks warmed as she recalled what she’d shared with him, her dislike of pastimes that women were expected to enjoy. Mother always said if a lady could not improve her imperfections, then she must hide them, for a gentleman sought excellence in his future wife.
Yet, at Sophia’s admission, Mr. Hawkins had appeared rather pleased, his eyes shining brightly. Those warm, blue eyes. They were quite like the color of her parasol she had bumped into when he’d awoken her.
“Miss Rosewall?”
Torn from her reverie, Sophia blinked. “Yes, Mr. Chester?”
“I asked what form of entertainment you might prefer this evening.”
“Oh, I could do with a little dancing, I think.” Dancing, gaming, watching a candle slowly burn—anything would do compared to playing that wretched instrument.
Mr. Chester beamed. His brown hair stood in rigid curls, not a strand out of place. “If we do dance, you must remember that you have promised a first with me, since you were occupied for every single dance this last assembly.”
Mr. Singleton chortled. “Our Miss Rosewall is always in high demand.”
Sophia’s mood improved at the thought of having saved herself from another performance. She made to voice another modest protest of the gentleman’s words but paused when she caught sight of the only other single woman in attendance at the party that evening, Miss Claire Kinsey.
Miss Kinsey, who was visiting her aunt and uncle for the summer in Cornwall, stood with her eyes fixed on the ground, her hands clasped in front of her. She hovered behind her aunt, Mrs. Maddern, and didn’t say a word, nor had she all evening.
Sophia had an inkling that Miss Kinsey was sent to live with the Madderns so she might find a husband. She wasn’t unattractive by any means, but her painfully shy behavior was sure to be the reason gentlemen flocked away from her, and toward Sophia.
Some women did not have the fortune of being brought up by parents who instructed them in the ways of captive conversation. As Sophia had, it was her duty to include Miss Kinsey whenever possible.
“Well, gentlemen,” Sophia began, her eyes centered on the girl across the room, “you mustn’t despair if one of you does not receive the opportunity to dance with me as your partner, for there is another amiable woman here who shall save you.” She motioned across the room, and the gentlemen turned in unison. “Miss Kinsey, do join us.”
Miss Kinsey’s eyes moved warily to her aunt’s before she walked toward Sophia. Her shoulders slumped forward, like she was trying to retreat into a nonexistent shell.
“We were just discussing what a pleasure it would be to dance this evening,” Sophia said. “What say you?”
Miss Kinsey’s eyes rounded. “Oh, I am not a very fine dancer, I’m afraid.”
“Nonsense,” Mr. Singleton said, with an amused glance at Mr. Chester, “I’m sure you are a wonderful dancer.”
Miss Kinsey shook her head without looking at him.
Mr. Chester nodded. “Yes, indeed. However, as much as I look forward to dancing with you, Miss Kinsey, I must dance the first with Miss Rosewall.”
“Then I shall dance the first with Miss Kinsey and the last with Miss Rosewall,” Mr. Singleton countered.
Mr. Chester furrowed his brow. “Oh, would you not consider swapping, Singleton?”
“No, I would not.”
Sophia listened to their back-and-forth with delight. She turned to Miss Kinsey. “Honestly, these gentlemen are quite absurd. I cannot understand them.”
Miss Kinsey didn’t return her smile. What was the matter with the girl? If she couldn’t manage a simple conversation with a female, however would she marry?
Sophia straightened her shoulders. The girl’s insipid behavior was none of her concern, and Sophia would not allow her to put a damper on the dinner party.
“Now, Singleton, see here,” Mr. Chester said, “Miss Rosewall promised me a dance, so I ought to decide when to receive it.”
Mr. Singleton smirked. “Yes, but you already decided to have the first.”
Sophia glanced between them, settling on Mr. Chester’s reddened face. She would need to end their mostly good-natured argument before it turned into actual animosity.
“Gentlemen, please,” she began, “there is a simple way to solve this, of course.”
The door opened, and her words ended as she fixated on her father entering the drawing room. There he was. She narrowed her eyes at his dipped chin, his stance missing its usual air of confidence.
“Do go on, Miss Rosewall.”
“Yes, you would not be so unkind as to have us wait a moment longer to hear your solution.”
She looked again to the gentlemen. “Oh, yes. You see, all we must do is see who is…”
Sophia’s attention pulled away again as Mr. Page, the butler, entered the room next. He held his back far straighter than Father had. What was he doing, announcing another guest? She glanced around the room. Now that Father had arrived, all were present.
She didn’t have to wait long before the butler’s voice carried throughout the room. “Mr. Frederick Hawkins.”
Shock struck her limbs. Mr. Hawkins? At Fynwary Hall?
She faced the doorway just as the gentleman—the very one who had carried her across the approaching tide, who had brought her to safety, who had yet to flee from her thoughts—stood in her drawing room.
With a growing smile, she observed his features. Strong jaw, masculine lips, a brow that expressed friendliness. His hair was fairer than she remembered, though it held dark undertones. Typically she preferred darker locks like Mr. Singleton’s. But Mr. Hawkins might be just the gentleman to persuade her otherwise.
“Miss Rosewall, did you hear us? Since you have kept your plan to yourself, Mr. Chester and I have come to an agreement.”
Sophia nodded, though Mr. Singleton’s words hardly registered.
“Mr. Chester shall dance the last with you tonight, and I—”
“Excellent,” she interrupted, backing away from the group. “So happy you have resolved the issue. Do excuse me for a moment.”
She left without another thought, gliding across the room toward Mr. Hawkins. He still stood near the doorway, speaking with Father. Did they know each other?
Any guess she might have given to her own question vanished as Mr. Hawkins finally glanced at her. He looked away without hesitation, but when his eyes flew back to hers, surprise swiftly gave way to pleasure.
Sophia had received that same look of admiration from many a gentleman, but she’d never been so affected as when Mr. Hawkins watched her. Her heart felt lighter than a muslin skirt blowing in a soft breeze.
Perhaps it was the difference in his stare. Most men tended to scale her from head to toe. But Mr. Hawkins’s blue eyes had yet to waver from her own.
“Sophia,” Father greeted as she stopped before them. “Allow me to introduce you to my…my new business acquaintance.” Sophia would have stared at him for his uncharacteristic stumbling over words, had she not been so taken with the gentleman beside him. “This is Mr. Hawkins. Mr. Hawkins, my lovely daughter, Miss Sophia Rosewall.”
She bobbed a quick curtsy, anxious to begin their official acquaintance.
Mr. Haw
kins lowered his brow. “Your daughter?” he asked with a glance in her father’s direction.
A look passed between the gentlemen. Sophia narrowed her eyes, but Mr. Hawkins’s hesitance vanished in an instant, replaced by another smile.
“It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Rosewall.”
All worrying thoughts fled from her mind at his use of her name. “And yours as well, Mr. Hawkins. Are you to join us for dinner this evening?”
“I am. Your father was kind enough to extend the invitation when our matter of business lasted longer than expected. As is evident in my lack of proper dress.”
She glanced at his clothing, noting for the first time he hadn’t changed since that morning—black jacket, blue waistcoat, knee-high boots. Sand still clung to the edges of them, bringing to mind their time at the beach.
“That is no trouble, of course, sir.”
She glanced to Father, who jerked his head discreetly toward Mr. Hawkins. She nodded her understanding at once. She had been given the same look and motion before, whenever she was to pay special attention to one of Father’s acquaintances, usually balding, middle-aged men. This acquaintance, however, she would not mind tending to.
“I’m sure we will be delighted to have you join us, Mr. Hawkins,” she said. “Now tell me, how long have you known my father?”
Mr. Hawkins’s odd reluctance returned, and Father shifted away from them both.
“Excuse me,” Father said. “I must see to Mrs. Rosewall.”
Sophia stared after him as he strode away. Was he displeased with something? Had he been told of her unsanctioned time at the beach?
She pushed the thought aside. Only Mr. Hawkins was aware of that, and he would not have given her up. Besides, he hadn’t known she and Father were related until that moment.
With an internal shrug, she returned her attention to Mr. Hawkins, whose eyes roved about the room.
Lowering her voice, she leaned toward him. “Mr. Hawkins, truly, I am shocked to see you here. I knew our paths would cross again, but I never dared hope it would be the very day you rescued me.”
Confusion crinkled his brow. “Forgive me. Rescued? To what are you referring?”
For The Lady 0f Lowena (A Cornish Romance Book 2) Page 2
