The Foundling Bride

by Helen Dickson

  ‘With what?’

  ‘Sore toes.’ She turned her back on him. ‘You see, Captain Carberry, I cannot dance a step.’

  Marcus laughed, and Lowena felt light-hearted and joyous and exceedingly happy just being with him and exchanging light banter.

  When she walked away, balancing her tray laden with glasses, the gentlemen who watched her go laughed and told her to hurry back.

  Lowena was immediately brought down to earth when Edward seemed to appear from nowhere as she entered the passage that led to the kitchen. Instinctively she shrank against the wall. A strained smile played on his lips and she could tell he was irritated by her popularity.

  Edward had watched her going about her duties, thinking that not one of the women present could match her beauty. They were cold, colourless objects when compared to Lowena. Now he studied her creamy skin, so flawless and translucent, especially taking in her demurely arranged hair, the warm colour of ripe chestnuts streaked with honey-gold, and noted her trim figure with its tiny waist, the dove-grey dress with a thin edging of lace around the high neck of her bodice that did little to conceal the gentle swelling of her breasts.

  Edward’s mouth went dry and he wiped his moist palms down his coat.

  ‘Since when was collecting pots one of your duties?’

  ‘Mrs Bradshaw asked me to help since the footmen are so busy.’

  ‘So I saw. You are employed to work—not to socialise with the guests.’

  Looking at her lovely face, and the bright eyes upturned to his, he felt lust stir inside him. As the night wore on the more he drank the more dissatisfied he felt.

  His voice was low and silky, his eyes sultry. ‘Leave it for now and go to the stables. Lady Barrymore would like to take a walk outside, and it appears she has left her shawl in her coach. One of the grooms will direct you.’

  Thinking this rather odd—for Lowena thought Lady Barrymore’s maid would have been better instructed to carry out the request for her mistress—she stared at him, trying hard to conceal her dislike. Knowing Edward, she felt certain that something was afoot—and she didn’t like the feel of it.

  After a moment she lowered her eyes, reminding herself that such was Lord Carberry’s power as the owner of Tregarrick over his servants that it was not her place to refuse him. However, she didn’t trust him in the slightest, and would ask Polly to accompany her—just in case.

  ‘Is there a problem, Lowena?’ he asked, his voice low and silky-smooth.

  Meeting her forthright stare, he was disappointed to see her antagonism towards him. The unconcealed hostility in her eyes and her lack of deference aroused his displeasure. She didn’t behave as a maid should.

  ‘No, not at all,’ she answered, brushing past him. ‘I’ll just take these to the kitchen.’

  It was unfortunate that when she entered the kitchen, where everyone was still rushing about to get the work done, Polly was nowhere in sight. On a sigh, she let herself out of the door into the yard at the back of the house and headed for the stables. The wide track leading to the large stable block was dark, but she was guided by the moon and the golden light streaming through the stable gates. A sudden breeze disturbed the trees and she could hear the sound of joyful music on the air.

  She hurried on, glancing right and left into the shadows, breathing a sigh of relief when she finally entered the stable yard.

  One of the grooms directed her to Lord Barrymore’s carriage, but when she looked inside there was no sign of the shawl Edward had ordered her to fetch. Angered because she had been sent on a fruitless errand, she left the stables, picking up her pace as it was not a night for sauntering.

  On seeing a shadowy figure ahead of her she stopped. The light from the house some distance away silhouetted him against the dark, and when he moved slowly towards her and she saw who it was she became quite still—like a young animal that sensed a trap.

  Angered that Lord Carberry had engineered this, and knowing that she had been right not to trust him, Lowena drew herself up straight, tossing her head and facing him with all the indignation she could muster. She was not ready to spar with him tonight. She had had a busy day helping with the preparations for the festivities and she longed for her bed.

  ‘Lord Carberry! I could not find Lady Barrymore’s shawl. I’m afraid she must have left it elsewhere.’ When he moved to take hold of her she stepped back. ‘Please don’t touch me.’

  Dropping his arm, he moved closer to her, his eyes glittering with purpose. ‘Why do you persist in fighting me all the time, Lowena?’

  ‘Oh, but I will fight you,’ she said with undiluted anger.

  In the silver moonlight she saw that around his eyes and at the corners of his mouth there was a hint of weakness, of self-indulgence and depravity.

  ‘I will fight you with every ounce of strength I possess.’

  Edward’s jaw clenched and his cold eyes glared at the young woman standing proud and defiant before him. ‘Have a care who you are talking to, Lowena. I could turn you out on a whim if I chose to do so. You cannot go on avoiding me for ever.’

  Chapter Four

  On seeing Lowena leave the house shortly followed by Edward, and suspecting that his brother had not heeded his demands to leave Lowena alone and had sent her on some fruitless errand to get her alone, Marcus ran every colourful oath he could think of through his mind.

  He following him outside and saw him waylay Lowena on her return from the stables. When he was close he saw the way Edward was looking at her, and the sight sent a sudden surge of cold fury through him. The intoxicating beauty before his brother would arouse lust in any man. Even dressed as a maid, in her plain dove-grey dress, she looked so damned lovely.

  His voice low and menacing, Marcus said, ‘Touch her at your peril, Edward.’

  A perplexed look crossed Edward’s face, and then he turned to find Marcus towering over him. ‘Oh, it’s you, Marcus. I might have known you would follow me.’

  ‘Yesterday I asked you to leave Lowena alone. Apparently you didn’t take my warning seriously. What in God’s name is the matter with you, Edward? You hound her like a rutting beast with no intention of using decent restraint.’

  Edward stepped aside, arrogant in his demeanour. ‘There is nothing wrong with me, Brother. I feel what any red-blooded male feels when faced with a wench as comely as Miss Trevanion.’

  Turning to Lowena, his jaw set in a hard line, Marcus glanced down at her pale face, seeing pain combined with fury at what had occurred in her eyes.

  ‘Go back to your guests, Edward. You may resent my interference, but you will not touch her again.’

  Edward looked at his brother with contempt. In his eyes Marcus had humiliated him, despite the reason for the humiliation. Without another word he turned on his heel and walked away.

  Now Edward had gone the two of them were alone in an atmosphere bristling with tension, holding none of the light-heartedness of their earlier meeting.

  Lowena was staring up at him. Beneath the fullness of her fringed lashes her amber eyes glowed with their own light, the colour in their depths shifting and deeply hued. Her nose was elevated and her gently rising cheekbones were touched with a light flush of colour. Her curving lips were expressive and soft, and Marcus was sure that no man could come within sight of her and not be fascinated by her. Edward’s aggressive approach was deplorable, but it was little wonder he was entranced by her.

  ‘Why did you come out here? You know what he’s like, and that one way or another he is determined to get you alone at any opportunity. Why did you? Was it because he asked you?’

  ‘No,’ she answered. ‘It was because he ordered me to. There’s the difference. He told me Lady Barrymore had left her shawl in her carriage and asked me to fetch it. I know now it was a ruse to get me alone. There was no shawl when I look
ed.’

  Hearing the music and the laughter of the guests resplendent in their finery drifting out through the open windows reminded Lowena of her position—that she was a servant, that she was here to wait on them, to pander to their needs.

  Suddenly she was ashamed of her dishevelled appearance. But then something began to stir within her. Straightening her spine she lifted her head in an act of defiance. ‘Thank you for trying to protect me. I will try harder to avoid him.’

  ‘I know you will,’ Marcus uttered on a softer note.

  Lowena sighed dejectedly. ‘All my life I felt content in the quiet, comfortable existence which was Izzy’s home. And it has only taken her death to set the wheels of fate in motion, precipitating me from that tranquil, familiar world into the future, whose far-reaching horizons are hazy and unknowable and often frightening.’

  ‘Frightening?’

  She nodded. ‘I have no illusions about your brother. He is one of the most dangerous and feared men I have ever met or heard about. There are many in his gang of smugglers who are in awe of him and fear him. Only the most hard-bitten defy Edward Carberry and, brave though I try to be, I am not one of them—especially on the nights when he orders me to watch the cliff path.’

  ‘I have spoken to him. You won’t be doing that any more, Lowena. He can’t go on doing what he does for ever.’

  ‘I saw the fire in his eyes when you appeared and exchanged angry words with him. But you are brothers,’ she reminded him, with a hint of irony, ‘and brothers can forgive each other anything, can’t they?’

  ‘Most brothers, yes. I wish it could be like that between Edward and me. Unfortunately he is not the forgiving sort.’

  ‘I think you are right. Does he not realise that what he is doing is sheer wickedness?’

  ‘Edward is aware of that. He simply does not care. I can’t fathom what goes on inside that head of his...what makes him like he is. Perhaps it has something to do with his losing his mother at a young age and his father marrying my mother so soon afterwards—then my birth and that of Juliet,’ he murmured with a resigned shrug. ‘Or maybe it is some unknown flaw inherited from his mother’s family that has made him like he is—she was a highly strung woman, I believe, and given to fits of intense rage. It is a question I have asked myself many times.’

  Turning her head to look at him, all of a sudden Lowena thought he looked vulnerable—vulnerable and hurt. He was a good, decent man—she knew that. It was always the good men who agonised this way, always the good ones who suffered.

  ‘Things should be easier for you now you no longer work at the house,’ he said.

  ‘I hope so. But I fear it will make little difference to Lord Carberry.’ Lowena sighed. ‘I miss Izzy so much. Nothing has been the same since she died.’

  ‘She was a fine woman. I miss her too.’

  ‘She was very fond of you, and she always looked forward to your visits.’

  ‘And you?’

  ‘Now you’re fishing for compliments,’ she said, smiling up at him. ‘It’s a pity Lord Carberry isn’t more like you. At first when he began taking an interest in me, appearing when I was alone, I tried to cultivate an attitude of indifference—perhaps contempt—but I did not succeed. My fear of him comes not just from what I know about his smuggling activities, but from an intuitive understanding of his nature. For a start, I know that his charm—when he cares to use it—is not spontaneous but manipulative, and that if he seems amenable it is only because he wants to use me. I have spent several nights as his lookout when there is a run. He is my employer and he leaves me with no choice—I have a duty to do as I am told. It’s either that or dismissal. I find it increasingly difficult to keep out of his way—and yet I cannot spend my life avoiding him.’

  ‘You shouldn’t have to. Try not to dwell on it tonight. Come, I’ll walk with you to the cottage. They can do without you at Tregarrick for the rest of tonight.’

  In the orange glow from the lamps hanging in the trees they walked in the direction of the cottage. The night was gently warm, the moon bright and casting a silver sheen on the water spouting gently from the fountain.

  Marcus was attentive, holding out his hand to guide her lest she stumble when they walked through the shadows. And, walking beside him, Lowena was in heaven. She dared not speak in case she broke the spell. Seduction was in the air as couples strolled along the garden paths, their arms entwined and whispering to each other. Lowena looked at them with envy. A gentle breeze lifted her hair and caressed her face.

  She turned her head and looked at her companion, glorying in his presence, casting her mind back to the ball. The way he had been with her—teasing, almost flirtatious—could it mean that this man who affected her so bewilderingly, so strongly, might feel the same way about her? She was blinded by what she felt for him, and the thought that he might filled her with such promise, such joy and hope, that it brought added sparkle to her eyes.

  He was staring straight ahead. Uncertain of his mood, she remained silent. In the moonlight his profile was harsh. He looked like a man in the throes of some deep internal battle. Suddenly it seemed colder and she shivered.

  On reaching the cottage they stopped and faced each other. Marcus looked down into her upturned face, tracing with his gaze the beautiful lines, the soft roundness of her cheeks and the delicate hollow of her throat where a strand of red-gold hair had come to rest against her creamy flesh. Moonlight caressed her face, and the lips that were parted in repose. She really was extraordinarily lovely, with an untamed quality and a wild freedom of spirit that found its counterpart in his own restless nature.

  Among his fellow soldiers he had been known as a hard man—a stubborn, iron-willed man, but always fair. But here he stood before Lowena Trevanion, who was making him feel more than he should feel.

  Now that he was alone with her he found her even more compelling as their eyes held. Her dress clung in fluid lines to her body, moulding itself against her as if reluctant to be parted from her, showing the womanly curves of her breasts and the graceful curve of her hips. She looked composed and serene—not in the least like the angry young woman who had thwarted his brother’s attentions.

  He had returned home thinking of her as the girl he had known. Now he had ended up thinking of her all the time. He could see her vulnerable side and he found that endearing. She had a way of overturning his thinking, his emotions that was worrying. He never ceased to be amazed and fascinated by her enticing blend of innocence and boldness. Each trait was wonderfully intriguing, and he had never been more aware of his growing infatuation than at this present moment.

  ‘You are too tempting by far, Lowena. Little wonder my brother is so smitten.’

  His words acted on her like a douche of cold water.

  ‘I swear that apart from the kiss he forced on me in the cove he has never touched me. I could never love a man like him.’

  ‘Can you know yourself as well as that?’ he said quietly, watching her, his silver-grey eyes unfathomable.

  Looking into his lean face, for some strange reason she could not explain Lowena found her colour mounting. There was still so much of the girl in her, at war with the young woman she had become, and this man had the knack of bringing it quickly to the surface.

  ‘Yes, I can.’

  Her eyes darkened as the feelings she carried in her heart for him overwhelmed her. She found it impossible to conceal them.

  Encouraged by his attentions earlier, and because she thought he might feel the same way about her, she managed to hold his gaze as she quietly and shyly admitted the truth. ‘I can because I love you, you see—quite desperately, in fact. Oh, it’s quite all right,’ she said quickly, when she saw his eyes widen with astonishment, ‘you don’t have to say anything. I don’t expect you to. But please don’t laugh at me and say I’ll get over it—because I won’t. An
y kind of commitment is out of the question because of my circumstances—my lack of birth and breeding—but I shall love you all the days of my life. So, you see, there it is.’

  She was looking at Marcus with eyes as large as her soul and as dark as midnight. Her sincere, heartfelt declaration of love had hit him hard, like a punch in the gut. It also struck a chord of intense feeling deep inside him. How could she be in love with him? She was too sincere. It would be too difficult to heartlessly deny her. But could he cope with her love?

  After Isabel’s betrayal he had sworn that never again would he believe a woman’s claims of such a debilitating emotion. To do so would leave his emotions wide open and vulnerable. And yet Lowena was not Isabel. She was nothing like her, and she was drawing on emotions and feelings he had believed long since buried.

  Slowly something awakened in him—longings he had not felt in a long time. A huge, constricting knot of tenderness and desire tightened his throat and he wanted to pull Lowena into his arms. His body was sending him all sorts of messages his brain didn’t want to accept.

  His face remained strangely expressionless while a myriad of feelings raced through his mind, among them doubts and uncertainty, while tenderness and desire throbbed through every nerve-ending in his body. His feelings were disturbing, strong and dangerous. Reaching out, he tenderly brushed her temple. The feeling became a desire so strong it was like an intense pain—urgent, needing to be fulfilled.

  Lowena watched his gaze drop to her mouth in a state of anticipation that was reaching dizzying heights as she waited. Marcus took two steps to close the distance that separated them, his gaze still focused on her lips. She caught her breath. She could feel his warmth, the vital power of him. The size and heat of him still had the power to shock her. Sensations of unexpected pleasure flickered through her. She was powerless to prevent what she hoped with all her heart would happen next.

  Taking her arms, he drew her to his chest. Their faces were close together, his breath warm on her lips. Her trembling hands reached up to hold him. Beneath her clutching fingertips the muscles of his shoulders beneath his coat coiled and quivered reflexively. Placing his finger beneath her chin, he tilted her face to his, lowering his head and covering her mouth with his own.