The Foundling Bride

Edward laughed lightly, unconcerned by his brother’s argument. ‘The men who work for me are as audacious and cunning as I am. We are not such amateurs that we would leave contraband lying around for the excise men to find.’

‘And those in the community who are not directly involved? Huge rewards are offered for the successful conviction of smugglers. Does it not concern you that someone might speak out?’

‘Anyone tempted by the rewards will know that their lives would be short if they were to do that. The Cornish coast is long, Marcus, with many hidden coves riddled with caves. Smuggling goes on from Land’s End to the Tamar and beyond. The excise men and the dragoons cannot be everywhere at once. But I suppose if I should be arrested that would please you, would it not? To become Lord of the Manor?’

Marcus didn’t answer. He knew Edward was trying to bait him, but he refused to be drawn.

‘The funeral is over, Marcus,’ Edward said, having had enough discussion of smuggling and wanting a change of subject. ‘Our father has been interred in the church next to my mother.’

Marcus knew exactly what he was alluding to. He wanted to remind him that his own mother took second place as their father’s second wife. ‘I know. That’s as it should be. I came as soon as I received Mother’s letter.’

Edward glanced at his brother. ‘Is it your intention to return to the war, or are you home for good?’

‘I’m sorry to disappoint you, Edward, but I am here to stay. My time with the army is at an end. I’m weary of war—which is not going well for the English.’

‘I am aware of that. The world has not passed me by here at Tregarrick,’ Edward replied drily.

‘I am surprised to find you still at home, Edward. In her letter informing me of our father’s demise Mother mentioned something about you going to London. I imagine that now you have the estate to manage you will not spend so much of your time in the city as you have in the past.’

‘Why not? I employ Watkins to oversee the work here. He worked well for my father—’

‘Our father,’ Marcus corrected coldly.

Edward smiled thinly, arrogant in his demeanour. ‘Whatever you say.’

‘Have you considered getting yourself an heir, Edward, and marrying again? It’s two years since Isabel died.’

‘I will—when I am good and ready. It has crossed my mind to go up to London for a time, and I might have a look around for a woman who suits my needs while I’m there. I’m in need of some pleasurable diversion. However,’ he said, swirling the brandy round the bowl of his glass and settling back into the chair, his lips curved in a self-satisfied smile, ‘at this present time I have to say that a certain young woman at Tregarrick is proving to be the most charming diversion since she has come to work at the house.’

‘Really? Do I know her?’

‘You should. You were the one to bring her here after all!’

The dawning of understanding filled Marcus’s eyes. He stared at Edward. ‘Lowena?’ His face hardened. ‘Are you telling me that you and Lowena...?’

Edward laughed mirthlessly. He could almost feel the effort his brother was exerting to keep his rage under control. ‘Absolutely. She has the face of an angel—a beautiful, fallen angel in every sense. She certainly has fire in her veins. You know the type... I’m tempted to remain in Cornwall a while longer. She helps in other ways, too,’ he said quietly, meaningfully, watching his brother carefully for his reaction. ‘She is particularly alert on the nights when there is a run and we need someone to man the beacon—or woman, in her case.’

There was nothing subtle about his mockery. It was direct. Marcus looked at him, lounging in his chair, arrogant, smug, self-satisfied, with a triumphant light in his eyes. He shook his head, as if to clear it of the monstrous thought his intellect was already beginning to form, but it clung on with the tenacity of a limpet on a rock. The mere thought that Edward had made Lowena a pawn in his illegal ventures almost sent him over the edge.

‘Are you telling me that you have involved Lowena in smuggling?’

Edward looked at him. ‘Why not? She is in my employ, so she has to do as she is told. She does have her uses—in many ways.’

Marcus went cold as what Edward had implied settled round his heart like an iron band. An awful, impossible thought came sliding slowly into his mind. It was too wicked for words—and yet suddenly he knew. He had a deep-rooted conviction that it had been Lowena he had encountered earlier—the girl who had been standing as lookout on the coastal path. He hadn’t been able to see her identity because of the dark.

It was bad enough that Edward had implied that he was in a sexual liaison with Lowena—which Marcus refused to believe—but to be told that she took part in his nefarious practices was hard to take in and to accept. Edward had never been one to look beyond his own gratification. The mere thought of his brother tarnishing that sweet girl with his corruption sent a pain through his heart.

What Marcus remembered about Lowena was pure and good—all Edward would see was some sweet flesh to feed on. He had not changed. But then he had not expected him to. Edward lived his life close to the wind, in a dubious, discreditable way, caring little for the gracious things.

Contemptuous of his unworthy brother, Marcus filled his voice with scorn. ‘I will not have Lowena’s character impugned by innuendo, Edward.’

‘Innuendo?’ Edward laughed mirthlessly. ‘My dear Marcus, who said anything about innuendo? Miss Trevanion has grown up to be the most accommodating beauty. Wait until you see her. You will not be disappointed.’

Edward was boasting with an unpleasant brand of sarcasm and resentment that Marcus had heard before. His anger simmered quietly within him, but when he spoke his voice was full of menace. ‘Lowena is nineteen years old—’

‘A very delectable nineteen-year-old. You’ve been absent too long, brother. Your sweet little Lowena has grown up.’

‘I’d sooner see her burn in hell than for you to get your hands on her.’

Edward smiled, not in the least intimidated by his younger brother’s angry words. ‘That’s rather harsh, Marcus, but I believe you. However, it’s a bit late in the day for that.’

Marcus looked at his brother hard. Edward’s face was a mask of sexual greed as he anticipated the corruption of someone beautiful and innocent. There was avarice in his pale blue eyes—avarice and pitilessness, along with self-interest. There was also contempt for those he considered his inferior, and an indifference to those he destroyed in his search to relieve the boredom which drove him like a sickness—a sickness that had possessed him ever since he was a boy.

‘Your words show you in a bad light, Edward. If you attempt to touch her again you will have me to answer to. She is not a prize to be conquered. I demand that you remember that.’

Edward’s eyes narrowed dangerously. ‘You tempt me to put you to the test just for the sheer hell of it.’

‘Lowena is a young woman of great intelligence and tenacity. She is vulnerable and, having played a large part in bringing her to Tregarrick, I consider myself to have an obligation to protect her.’

He’d promised Izzy all those years ago that he would look after Lowena, should she find herself alone, and he would abide by that promise.

‘She is a servant,’ Edward sneered callously.

‘She is also a human being and should be treated with respect.’

‘What goes on in the lives of those in my employ is no concern of mine.’

Edward’s eyes were as cold as steel as they met his half-brother’s, and the muscles in his cheeks tensed with ire. At that moment he saw that Marcus was every inch a man, and any questions he might have had over what might result from Marcus’s time in the Americas and his arrival in Cornwall were answered.

Edward glared at him as their eyes parried for supremacy in a silent battle of unspoken challenge. It was Edward who looked away first.

When he spoke the mockery was gone and his voice was purposeful. ‘I answer to no man, Marcus, least of all to you.’

‘I would not expect you to.’

‘Nevertheless I speak the truth. Lowena is very diverting—which you would know all about had you not gone away to widen your horizons.’

‘I was a soldier, Edward, fighting a war. Listening to you, anyone would think I had gone abroad on the Grand Tour. Unlike you, I had no estate to inherit and secure my future. I had to make my own way.’

‘Until Father willed the mine to you,’ Edward uttered sharply, the tone of his voice telling Marcus how much he resented that fact. ‘You must have known he would.’

‘On the contrary. But he knew you had no interest in it.’

‘Whereas you have?’

‘Of course. You always knew that. So did Father.’

‘Nevertheless, he should have made us equal partners,’ Edward retorted, his expression hardening. He suddenly felt at a disadvantage—a unique experience for him.

‘Has it not crossed your mind that his reluctance to do so might have had something to do with your tendency to gamble, Edward? With your impetuous behaviour and lack of judgement? With such shortcomings as those he might have thought you needed keeping on a tight rein.’

‘He trusted me with the estate,’ Edward pointed out, regaining his confidence.

‘Because he saw that as your right. The mine is a separate entity, started by his grandfather. I think Father knew what he was doing when he willed Wheal Rozen to me. From the report I received in America from the mine manager, I gather Wheal Rozen is highly profitable, so there will be no need to bring in outside capital for further exploration. So you see, Edward, you are not rid of me after all. But you can rest assured I shall endeavour to keep out of your way as much as it is possible to do so.’

‘Under the circumstances, that shouldn’t be too difficult,’ Edward said, getting out of his chair.

‘Since we inhabit the same house, it is inevitable that we shall bump into each other now and them.’

About to take his leave, Edward half turned and looked at him hard, a smug smile curving his lips. ‘The house? And what house might that be, brother? Tregarrick? This house?’ He laughed—a laugh that was brittle and without humour. ‘Of course! You don’t know! But then—how could you?’

Something dark and ominous began to unfurl within Marcus. ‘Know? Know what?’

‘Your mother has moved out to the cottage. Knowing how fond you are of your mother, and knowing you would wish to reside with her, I had your things removed from Tregarrick.’

‘Moved out? Did she go of her own free will or did you order her to leave?’

Edward shrugged. ‘Does it matter? She went, anyway.’

The knowledge that Edward had relegated his mother to the cottage angered Marcus beyond words, but he would not take him to task over it until he had spoken to his mother.

‘I will speak to her tomorrow, but before I leave for the cottage there is something I have to take care of.’

‘And that is...?’ Edward asked as his brother strode to the door.

As Marcus had expected, a servant was hovering in the hall should Edward need anything.

‘Bring Miss Trevanion to me.’

She stared, nonplussed. ‘Miss Trevanion? But—but she is in bed, sir.’

‘Then wake her—and tell her to pack her things.’

His tone of authority had the girl scuttling away.

Marcus went back inside the room and gave his half-brother a dark look. ‘If you imagine I will leave Lowena under your roof a moment longer then you are mistaken.’

Edward shrugged. ‘Do as you like.’

Without another word he turned and went out.

Marcus watched him go, but the rage that distorted his brother’s face was hidden from his view.

Marcus was unaware of how Edward cursed him, how his heart was dark and full of hate. Lowena’s beauty tantalised him, and knowing the jealousy that would consume him if he saw the woman he had decided would be his mistress bestowing her favours on his brother, returned from the war in America, he had decided it was not to be borne.

Plagued by what Edward might have done to Lowena, Marcus was impatient to see her—to see for himself the changes his brother had wrought on a girl he remembered as being as sweet and pure, with the smile of an angel and an unspoiled charm. As a child she had been shy as a woodland creature, her manner as graceful, with none of the world’s callousness to cause her heartache and pain. Time after time he had been drawn to her, but he had not explored his feelings because he had felt it wrong to do so.

She had been just sixteen when he had last laid eyes on her, when he had returned home on a brief spell away from his military duties. Her childhood had been behind her, and at that age she’d been old enough to be kissed. It shamed him to remember that the half formed young woman had aroused desires within him that, although perfectly natural, had made his sexual urge immense. But he was only human, after all, and a healthy and willing lover to any young girl.

Of course her age had mattered back then, and because she was who she was, and because he had had Isabel’s affair with Edward occupying his thoughts, he would not have touched her. And Izzy would not have taken kindly to him toying with the girl who was as dear to her as her own daughters.

Edward’s vitriolic insinuations and the dark shadow of the large part of Lowena’s life without him, which he knew nothing about, concerned Marcus more than he cared to admit. His heart twisted in fury at the image of her lying in his brother’s arms.

In angry frustration he turned his mind from his tortured imaginings and tried concentrating on the joy of her instead, determined not to let Edward’s words sour his memories of her.

When she appeared at the top of the stairs he found he had to test the accuracy of his memory. The sight of her stunned him. The young woman who descended, with her softly curving form, her glorious wealth of shining red-gold hair, its tendrils coiling like serpents down her spine, her stormy amber eyes shaded by long, curling lashes, and soft pink lips, possessed a full-blown beauty certainly more vivid and lively than he remembered.

Lowena seemed to exude the very essence of vitality and life.

* * *

It had taken Lowena all of five minutes to dress and pack her few belongings into a bundle. She had paused for a moment at the top of the stairs to look down at the man pacing the hall with long, impatient strides before moving gracefully down the stairs.

As she watched him she was conscious of a sudden tension and nervousness in her. Apart from their brief encounter earlier, she had not seen him for almost four years, and she did not know how to behave towards him.

Suddenly he looked up and saw her. Her face, pale and tense, was exposed.

She wasn’t to know about the acrimonious meeting he had had with his half-brother, but she sensed that he knew more about her involvement with what had happened in the cove earlier than she was comfortable with. Everything about him exuded an unbending will, and that in turn made Lowena feel even more wretched and helpless.

Reaching the bottom of the stairs, she walked towards him. For an endless moment their gazes locked as they assessed one another. She looked at him with the same bright, intelligent gaze he remembered.

‘I apologise for waking you at this hour,’ he said, and there was a touch of irony in his tone. ‘After speaking to my brother and being made fully aware that you are the person I encountered on the cliff earlier, it has become my opinion that it is more appropriate for you to reside at the cottage. I trust you have no objections?’

Even in her dazed state, having been woken and told to pack her things, Lowena was shaken to the core by the bewildering sensations racing through her body. Captain Carberry—Marcus—was home at last. Home and as handsome and strong as he had been when he’d gone away. She wasn’t sure why it mattered, but in the deep, unexplored places inside her she knew it did. She’d kept the image of him in her heart, like a flower pressed between the pages of a book, and now she could open it and look at it once more.

She lowered her eyes, but his extraordinary eyes drew her back. ‘None that I can think of,’ she replied, thankful that her voice was calm and did not betray her inner nervousness. ‘You must forgive me if I appear somewhat vague, but I am not used to being woken in the dead of night.’

He lifted a well-defined black brow in question. ‘No? Not even when my brother requires your assistance on the cliff on certain nights? You little fool! I thought you would have more sense than to let him implicate you in his nefarious activities. It doesn’t matter how he persuaded you. The facts speak for themselves.’

He noted her bewilderment and apprehension, the way she looked about her as if searching for a hole down which to disappear.

‘Never mind,’ he uttered crisply. ‘We will speak of it tomorrow.’

‘There is nothing for me to say,’ she said with underlying desperation. ‘Because of my situation, and with no family of my own to go to, I cannot afford to offend a man like your brother. He is my employer. It is impossible for me to disobey him. You have no idea what it has been like for me since Izzy died...’

A smile of understanding tempted Marcus’s lips. ‘Maybe I should have, had I not been absent for so long, but I assure you, Lowena, that I have a good idea now.’

Hearing the gentleness behind his words, she looked at him and felt her heart skip a beat. Her eyes devoured him, worshipped him—his hair, his eyes, his face were all more attractive than any she had ever seen, and if what she felt for him was love, then she loved him absolutely, devotedly. With a love that had bonded her to him when she had been sixteen years old and was stronger still now, even with no hope of ever having her love returned.

She would be content to exist in the same space as he did.

His eyes were on her face, gauging her, watching for every nuance of emotion in her. He could have no notion of her wayward thoughts.

She flushed and drew herself up proudly. The spectre of his brother rose between them, intangible but strong, and an unexpected sense of pain filled Lowena’s heart that Marcus might have listened to his brother and judged her unfairly. Her heart beat a tattoo in her chest and she was afraid he would hear. There was still so much of the girl in her, at war with the young woman this man was capable of bringing to the surface.

‘All I ask is that, whatever Lord Carberry has told you, you do not judge me too harshly. Remember that I am not the girl I was when you went away.’

‘No, I realise that. If my brother’s words are to be believed, then I can only assume that your conduct has been reprehensible, that you haven’t an ounce of sense or propriety, and that your behaviour would have been an embarrassment to Izzy had she been alive.’

The unfairness of his words brought a gasp to Lowena’s lips. ‘How dare you say that to me? I have never failed to respect Izzy—but I suppose if I hadn’t, the name I bear does not permit any offence to go unpunished,’ she bit back, bristling with indignation at being wrongfully accused. ‘You said if your brother’s words were to be believed. Do you believe them?’

His eyes refused to relinquish their hold on hers as he sought the truth. ‘He implied that you and he are lovers.’ He arched a dark brow, his eyes quizzical, probing hers. ‘Should I believe him?’

Lowena stared at him in stunned, hurt disbelief, and in a blinding flash of sick humiliation she saw he really did believe that his brother spoke the truth. Anger welled up in her heart, draining the blood from her face and bringing a furious sparkle to her eyes.

‘I should know better than to speak against Lord Carberry, who has the power to dismiss upon a whim, but I have the right to speak in my defence. Do you think I invited his attentions somehow? Do you think it has been my ploy to lure him in the hopes of gaining some special privileges for myself? If so, you do me an injustice. I work at Tregarrick because I have no choice. I am not intimidated by Lord Carberry, and nor am I awed by his attentions—which are most unwelcome.’

‘Are you telling me that I have misconstrued what he told me—that is if I believed it in the first place?’

Forcing herself to remain calm, she raised her chin defensively. Her eyes were scornful and she spoke in a controlled voice. ‘Believe what you like. I do not feel that I have to justify myself to you or to anyone else, for that matter. Perhaps it would make you feel better if I admitted to everything your brother has said about me—regardless of the fact that it may not be true.’

Marcus gazed at her from beneath his lowered eyes. He could see how tense she was, and that her eyes were shining with a pain he wondered at. He was touched, despite himself, by her youth—and also by some private scruples. Whatever the truth of the matter, she still had a virtuous innocence and a warm femininity that touched a deep chord inside him.

‘Enough. Enough of this for now. The hour is late and it is not the time.’

‘Enough, you say? How dare you be so judgemental? You have been away a long time and know nothing of what has been happening in my life. I find your inquisitorial and aggressive manner both unreasonable and unacceptable. You are playing the role of an outraged father whose honour has been besmirched a little too well for my liking—casting accusations and demanding explanations. A lot has happened to me in your absence. I am no longer the complaisant, naïve, pathetic young girl you remember.’

‘You were many things, Lowena, but you were never pathetic,’ he countered softly.

She stared at him, momentarily thrown by the sudden softening in his eyes. ‘Oh—thank you. But you see I am my own person now, and I answer to no one.’

Looking at the tempestuous young woman standing before him, her eyes flashing like angry jewels and her breasts rising and falling with suppressed emotion, Marcus felt a stirring of reluctant admiration for her courage and daring to speak out so plainly.

‘Thank you for that edifying piece of information.’

‘Think nothing of it,’ she retorted.

Drawing a deep, suffocating breath, she fought with all her strength to keep back the tears which had started to her eyes and to ignore a heart beating hard with a mixture of so many emotions that they almost overwhelmed her.

‘Am I to reside at the cottage indefinitely?’ she ventured to ask, when she was confident she could speak calmly. She was bewildered by the night’s events and did not really know what she wanted to do at that moment.

‘For now. I’ll speak to my mother in the morning. Now, come along. The hour is late and I think we could both do with some sleep.’

Clutching her bundle close to her chest, Lowena followed Marcus out of the house and down the drive in the direction of the cottage. She stared at his broad back. Silly, girlish tears pricked her eyes. She blinked and set her mouth in a determined line before they reached the cottage.

They were not surprised to find it in darkness. Marcus hammered on the door and after a few minutes a woman in her night attire, carrying a lighted candle, opened it a crack.

‘Who is it?’ she enquired, clearly afraid that it might be someone up to no good.

‘It’s me, Mrs Seagrove—Lowena,’ she said quickly, in order to allay the housekeeper’s fears. ‘Mr Marcus is with me.’

Mrs Seagrove opened the door to let them in. Marcus quickly explained the situation, and in no time at all Mrs Seagrove was showing them to their rooms. Marcus insisted that he did not want his mother disturbed. Time enough for her to welcome him home in the morning.

Chapter Two

The cottage was tucked away within its own hollow, the house and its gardens concealed by a protective planting of beeches. Anyone who had never been to the cottage before would have the impression that the house was a small establishment—and in comparison to Tregarrick it was—but it was of considerable size. It was beautifully proportioned, with large windows looking out onto a terrace and the lovely gardens. Marcus had always been fond of the cottage. His paternal grandmother, whom he had loved dearly, had spent her last days there.