‘I’m deeply touched that you should worry about me so, Nessa. But I’m all right—truly.’
‘Since Izzy died I have been concerned about you. You are always in my thoughts, Lowena.’
Lowena’s heart swelled with the warmth she felt for Nessa. ‘I know that, Nessa. But be assured that I shall be all right now I’ve moved to the cottage with Lady Alice and Mr Marcus. I start my duties after the party tomorrow night. There will be a great deal to do, but I will be over to help whenever there’s entertaining.’
‘And what are your duties to be here at the cottage? Are they to be the same as they were at the house?’
‘No—no kitchen duties for me. I know it sounds very grand, but I’m to be trained up as Lady Alice’s personal maid.’
‘I see.’ Nessa gave her a sideways look. ‘But Lady Alice already has a personal maid.’
‘I know, but I am to help her.’
‘You don’t seem thrilled about it.’
‘I know I should be, but I’m not—not really. It’s—it’s just not enough, Nessa.’
‘Then what is it you want?’
‘A more worthwhile occupation. Something to stretch my mind. I want a purpose in my life.’
‘You want to leave Tregarrick?’
Lowena glanced away as she considered Nessa’s question. She did want to do something more with her life, to expand on what Izzy had taught her, but if she left Tregarrick then she would also be leaving Marcus.
‘The truth is, Nessa, at this time I have nowhere to go and there is nothing I can do.’ Laughing lightly, she made to move on. ‘In the meantime we have tomorrow night’s party to prepare for, so I will see you in the morning, Nessa.’
* * *
Nessa stood and watched her go. Lowena was a decent, respectable young woman. She had been gently reared by Izzy, in ignorance of what went on in the wider world beyond Tregarrick. Besides that she was lovely to look at—not unlike her mother in features, but her hair and those strange amber-coloured eyes of hers were her father’s.
There was a quality about her that stirred the senses of everyone who met her, and Nessa had feared from the moment she came to work at Tregarrick she would attract the attention of a man like Lord Carberry. He was a dark, perverted man, and Nessa felt sorry for the woman he would eventually make his second wife.
Meanwhile he had his sights set on Lowena. It wouldn’t matter to him that she no longer worked in his house. If he wanted her he would find a way to have her.
Over the years Nessa had struggled with her conscience. Living close to Tregarrick with her parents, before their demise, had enabled her to know what happened to Lowena. It had been a great relief and comfort to her, knowing she was being brought up by Izzy. Many times she had been tempted to tell Izzy about Lowena, but seeing how happy and content Lowena was, living with a family she loved—a family who loved her unconditionally, which was much more than her grandmother had—right or wrong, she had decided against it.
But now, since Izzy’s death, things had changed—they had changed in another way, too. She had received the letter from her aunt in Saltash, informing her about her illness and recalling Nessa’s time at Beresford Hall and the unfortunate circumstances that had ended her employment there. Her aunt had also written that she thought Nessa might be interested to know that Sir Robert Wesley was not dead after all. Apparently he had been seen recently in Saltash, visiting friends...
Nessa had kept her secrets all these years. Now she was to leave Tregarrick she felt it was time to reveal the past to Lowena. She had every right to know about her father, and she could not keep the secret any longer.
* * *
Edward Carberry might have many faults, but setting aside the traditions that the Hall was known for was not one of them. Every year since his great-grandfather’s time Tregarrick had entertained a host of glittering guests from the Cornish gentry in an evening of dancing and dining to mark the end of the winter months.
The long drive bordered by lime trees was lined with the fancy coaches and carriages which had deposited their well-to-do occupants at the door. Tregarrick was a large house, capable of putting up the many guests who had some distance to travel, and tonight the stables were full to capacity with coaches and horses, grooms and footmen.
Lowena looked down from her vantage point at the top of the stairs, where she crouched to watch the dancers below through the gaps in the bannister. The party was larger than usual—about seventy guests in all—because of the presence of Captain Marcus Carberry. Most of them had heard he was back from the war in America and wanted to welcome him home.
The numerous tapers in the huge chandelier reflected off the crystal pendants, bathing the ballroom in an amber glow. Gentlemen in powdered periwigs and embroidered waistcoats led their ladies in the dance. Every guest was like a carefully cut jewel, representing the splendour and vanity of the privileged classes. It was a beautiful event, with the entertainment spilling out into the gardens, where the trees were hung with lanterns and garlands of flowers, creating a wistful atmosphere.
Her eyes were directed to the door when someone new entered. Marcus Carberry. He was the last to arrive. She recognised him the moment she saw him. Of course she had known he would be present, along with Lady Alice who, despite her removal to the cottage, would continue to act as hostess at any social event held at the house until Edward found himself a wife.
For the moment no one else was aware of Marcus’s presence as he stood tall and dark and proud, his face grim and unsmiling, his silver-grey eyes smouldering with many conflicting emotions as he surveyed the happy scene in the great hall of Tregarrick.
Lowena hadn’t seen him since he had escorted her from the cove, but she had not stopped thinking about him. Her eyes sought him out at every opportunity. On seeing him now, she felt her heart seemed to have stopped beating, checked by the potency of his mere presence. In a moment she took in his attire. She had only seen him in his uniform red jacket since his return, and his transformation into a gentleman took her breath. He was wearing midnight-blue satin knee breeches and a matching frock coat, and his white satin waistcoat was delicately embroidered with pale blue. A fine lace jabot spilled from his throat and wrists.
Then there was the shrill noise of a bow passing over the strings of a violin and the spell she had been brought under upon seeing him was shattered. A hot wave of horror engulfed her that she had allowed her thoughts to wander so, but that was immediately replaced with interest once more, for she was unable to look away from him.
She smiled to herself and a dimple broke out in the curve of her cheek as she watched him move a little further into the room with an air of utter assurance. Highly conspicuous, he seemed oblivious to the ripple of curiosity and excitement that swept among the guests, and the admiring feminine glances and appreciative whispers from behind unfurled fans. His eyes did a quick sweep of the gathering, coming to rest on his fair-haired half-brother, lounging against one of the pillars on the edge of the dance floor.
The expression on Lord Carberry’s face was one of intense boredom—which altered dramatically when he met the eyes of his half-brother. Casually pushing himself away from the pillar, he waited for Marcus to join him. After exchanging a few words with Edward Marcus, aware that the guests were looking his way, coolly excused himself and began to mingle among them.
Exuding a strong masculinity few women could resist, he had the ability to charm his way into most of their rapidly beating hearts with merely a look and a cynically humorous smile. His tall, lean and yet athletic stature had a splendour to it with which few other men present could compete.
Lowena watched her fill as he casually took a glass of wine from the tray of a passing footman and moved among the gathering with ease. She was brought out of her reverie when Polly, one of the kitchen maids, suddenly appeared beside her.
‘What are you doing?’ she whispered, sitting down beside her on the stairs.
‘Just looking. I wanted to see the gentry and the dancing. What a sight, Polly. It’s all so grand. I’d love to dress like they do.’ Her voice was wistful, rather sad.
Polly looked at her. ‘I’m sure you would—and wouldn’t we all?—but for all their grand finery they are just like us, only richer and snootier, and we are here to wait on them. Mrs Bradshaw has sent me to find you. You’re wanted in the kitchen so you’d best get a move on.’
With one last look at the refined gathering, Lowena followed Polly to the domestic quarters to take up her duties in whatever capacity Cook demanded.
The kitchen was a hive of activity. Every surface was so highly polished it reflected the light, and there was an enormous table bearing bowls filled with all manner of ingredients and chopping boards. There was a tumultuous frenzy among the servants as food was carried to and fro.
Halfway through the evening Lowena managed to slip back into the brilliantly lit hall to take another look at the dancing. Watching through a crack in the door, saw caught her breath at what she saw. A pang of envy wrenched at her heart as she watched the swirling and twirling as the ladies were spun around in the gentlemen’s arms in a lively country dance.
‘Heavens...’ she breathed. How she wished she could go to the ball, laugh and have fun—dance in Marcus Carberry’s arms.
But it was not for the likes of her.
Several of the servants had also found their way to where she stood, to take a peek over her head at the gentry enjoying themselves. Catching sight of Marcus dancing with a pretty dark-haired young lady, Lowena felt her heart sink. His dark head was bent close to the lady’s beautiful face—he was whispering pretty compliments, no doubt—and she was simpering and pouting and fluttering her eyelashes with all the vivacity of a born flirt.
Lowena felt a pain in her chest where her heart lay—a bitter pain caused by the malevolent pangs of jealousy.
He doesn’t even know I’m here, she thought.
Abruptly she backed away and made her way to the kitchen, ignoring her sinking heart.
Later, when all the food had been served, she couldn’t believe her luck when Mrs Bradshaw told her to go to the dining room, where the buffet had been laid out, and collect any dirty crockery and glasses the overstretched footmen had left.
Removing her apron and smoothing her skirts, Lowena stepped into the spacious hall where the guests were once again dancing—with a flourish now they had eaten and drunk the sparkling wine. Walking past the elegant rooms set aside for those who fancied a game of cards or dice, she made her way to the dining room.
The house was very grand. As a child she had often been in the domestic quarters, and had taken the occasional peep into the hallway when the servants had left the door open, but she had ventured no further until Izzy had died and she’d taken up employment at Tregarrick. She had entered a different world from the one she knew.
The kitchen, with its huge range and table and its shining utensils, had seemed very grand to her, but the interior of Tregarrick was beyond anything she could have imagined. The furniture, the oriental carpets and the sumptuous curtains and the beautiful paintings on the walls were hard to take in. This was a life that would never be hers and she was sensible enough to accept that.
In the dining room people stood around or sat gossiping. Lowena tried to keep her mind focussed on her work as she listened with amused fascination to three gentlemen bewailing their losses at cards. As she flitted about the room, collecting glasses and china plates and piling them onto a tray, she was totally unaware of the stir she was creating among the guests, and that her hair shone beneath the glow of the chandeliers like a bright beacon of light.
One or two of the gentlemen tried to draw her into conversation, but she smiled and, keeping her eyes lowered politely, told them she was working. One of them even went so far as to offer her a pinch of snuff from his gem-studded snuffbox. With her natural exuberance, and forgetting the housekeeper’s strict instructions not to converse with the guests, she laughed and shook her head and told him she didn’t dare because she might sneeze and drop the tray of pots.
This caused much hilarity—which drew the attention of Lord Carberry, who was passing by the room. He merely scowled and walked away.
Suddenly Marcus Carberry appeared in the doorway. For Lowena, all the other guests faded into the shadows beside him. His presence was like a positive force. His glance idly swept the room until, drawn by her beauty, his eyes met hers, wide and direct. There was a cool impertinence on his face when he looked at her, and his eyes were bold with a twinkle of appraisal in their depths. His lips curved in a crooked smile.
Lowena caught her breath, and for a brief moment experienced the same pleasurable feminine sensations as all the other women upon whom he had bestowed his enigmatic gaze during the evening. She favoured him with a slight smile before turning away to collect more glasses, but he had no intention of letting her escape so easily.
‘I see Cook has allowed you out of the kitchen.’
Turning round, Lowena noticed how one of his dark brows arched and how his eyes glittered down at her with warm humour. Glancing up at him, she was unaware of the gentle flush that mantled her cheeks. She tried to ignore the aura of confidence that surrounded him, the impact his closeness was having on her, and the way his potent masculine virility was making her feel altogether vulnerable. When she spoke she tried to sound assertive, which wasn’t easy—especially while she was trying to balance a tray full of glasses.
‘Yes—it makes a pleasant change. Although for the life of me I cannot think why you would want to converse with one of the servants when you have all these ladies present impatient for you to dance with them,’ she dared to venture, remembering how Mrs Bradshaw had instructed her to be politeness personified in her dealings with the guests.
She found it hard to abide by that when those silver-grey penetrating eyes provoked in her a welter of disturbing emotions that threatened to discompose her completely.
Marcus had been an interested observer, watching Lowena going about her duties. In fact he had watched her to the point when everything and everyone else had become a blur around him. Always a disciplined man, he never allowed himself to be encumbered by distractions of any kind—especially not a woman—but from the moment he had set eyes on Lowena again he’d found it hard not to think about her.
Her image was implanted in his mind as if carved there. He put his preoccupation down to surprise that in his absence an innocent girl had grown into a beautiful young woman who had the face of an angel and the body of a goddess.
He had noticed as she flitted among the guests that when she walked her steps were light and she had an unconscious swing to her body, a natural grace, making the material of her dark grey dress fluid. Darting shafts of light moved with her, making him imagine her rounded hips and the long slender legs beneath the flaring skirts.
He’d found her pleasing to watch as she smiled and laughed with the gentlemen in the dining room, throwing back her head and laughing delightedly at something one of them had said, the long slender column of her throat arching like the curved white neck of a swan.
She had moved about the tables with a mysterious grace and a sensuality that had the power to set a man’s soul on fire, he thought, and her eyes shone with a brilliance like sunlight on water. He thought how radiant she looked—how, dressed in the right clothes, she would outshine every other woman present.
‘You are no ordinary servant, Lowena,’ he uttered softly. ‘Not to me. May I tell you how charming you look?’
‘You may!’ Lowena laughed, his comment causing her heart-rate to increase. Putting the tray down to cover her confusion, she picked up more empty glasses as the musicians began to play another country dance. ‘But I susp
ect that flattery is not your forte.’
‘I can flatter as much as the next man when I find myself in the company of a pretty woman.’
Lowena cast him a rueful glance. His manner was teasingly flirtatious. And because there was a familiarity between them and he had always teased her when she was a child she accepted it for what it was. But where his brother was concerned, his position of Lord of the Manor made any such familiarity unacceptable.
‘I think, sir, you have had one too many glasses of wine.’
He laughed, his strong white teeth gleaming between his parted lips. ‘I do not require wine to converse with a lovely young lady. If circumstances were different I would ask you to dance.’
She arched her eyebrows in mock reproach. ‘What? With a servant? And create a scandal? Shame on you!’
He grinned. ‘I know. It would be most improper—but I would be willing to take the risk.’
‘You are right—it would not be proper and I would not be that brave. Naturally I would have to decline your offer.’
‘There’s not a lady among these guests who would refuse to dance with me,’ he persisted, with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.
Absolutely enthralled by this new, teasingly flirtatious side to him, and happy to be among so much frivolity, Lowena automatically matched his mood. ‘I’m not a guest.’
He raised a brow, amused. ‘No, but you are a lady, Lowena Trevanion.’
‘I’m also sensible and level-headed—’
‘And young and beautiful, with an engaging personality—’
‘And aware of the consequences were I to accept your offer. You are out of your mind if you think I would.’
‘You don’t know what you’re missing.’
She grinned up at him, her eyes twinkling with mirth. ‘I think you should count your blessings that I would refuse. Believe me, you would suffer greatly.’
The Foundling Bride Page 8
