Caught in a Cornish Scandal by Eleanor Webster (top novels of all time .txt) 📗

one young lady attempted to amuse me with a lively discussion of puddles.’

‘Puddles? As in rain puddles?’

‘Yes, she liked to paint them,’ he said, straight-faced but with a twinkle.

‘Art can be interesting.’

‘Indeed, but not for an entire dinner involving several courses.’

Millie laughed, a rich spontaneous sound. He had missed her. He hadn’t realised how much until he’d seen her standing at the stairs. Actually, seeing her there had been revealing, disorienting, confusing. The woman defied categorisation—one moment she was a rebel smuggler, the next a pragmatic competent young woman and now...a beauty. The lavender dress shimmered with her every move. The low neck emphasised the creamy expanse of skin while the loose folds draped down with diaphanous elegance.

She was not pretty, that would be too insipid. Nor was she beautiful. Her face was not cast in classic lines. No, she was striking, inspiring, unique. It was hard to connect this glamorous woman with either the scruffy smuggler or country gentlewoman and yet this enhanced her allure. His every sensation seemed heightened, as though he had been sleepwalking through life and was now awake. This feeling was both discomforting and exciting.

Just then Lady Wyburn swept into the salon, followed by Merryweather, more bowed than ever.

‘Dear boy, it is so lovely to see you,’ Lady Wyburn said, smiling so that her cheeks bunched up like round, ripe apples. She paused, studying him with apparent concern. ‘I do hope that you are eating your vegetables, dear.’

‘Pardon?’

‘You are looking contemplative and I find thinking leads to irritation. I avoid it when possible which helps me to remain remarkably sanguine. I always tell my solicitor, Mr Begby, that he should eat additional vegetables when he gets a dyspeptic countenance. Likely you have had to spend too much time with your solicitor today. In general, I find spending time with solicitors quite disturbing to my peace of mind.’

‘Indeed,’ Sam said with some confusion. His great-aunt was his very favourite relative, but following her convoluted thought processes could be challenging.

Merryweather served them drinks and then shuffled away.

‘I hope he has some help serving dinner,’ Sam said, eyeing the butler’s retreating form.

‘I have a couple of younger footmen,’ Lady Wyburn said. ‘Otherwise, I fear we would never be fed and then Cook would be dreadfully angry. However, I wanted to talk to you about Frances.’

He stiffened. ‘I have heard she is doing better.’

‘Absolutely, she is much improved. I just wanted to let you know that if there is gossip or anything unpleasant, I could take her away from London. I assured her that she need not worry, someone is always doing something dreadful in London but, well, I wouldn’t want her to be hurt by gossip.’

‘Thank you, that is appreciated,’ he said. ‘Jason and Mrs Ludlow are pleading guilty so at least there won’t be the publicity of a trial. I was at my club and I did not hear much except an inaccurate rumour that Jason and Mrs Ludlow had been involved in treasonous activity with the French.’

‘I do think treason is much better than murder and will likely generate considerably less gossip,’ Lady Wyburn said with apparent approval. ‘However, we are not at war with the French any more. Is it possible to be treasonous when one is not at war?’

‘I am not an expert on such matters, but believe it is possible,’ he said, with a wry smile. ‘However, there will still be some unpleasantness so London may not be the best place when the rumour mill really gets going.’

‘Bath.’

‘Pardon?’

‘Bath is always good because everyone is ancient, deaf and about twenty years behind the times. I would be happy to take her to Bath. One always needs the waters at my age. Or we could go to Wyburn. Although I would like to stay here at least long enough to launch dear Miss Lansdowne and her sister.’

‘I am not being launched,’ Millie said, hurriedly.

‘Nonsense, you will spoil all my fun. I love organising a debut and I know that you will both be so very successful. Indeed, I am quite positive you will be flooded with offers. There is always something alluring about a female who doesn’t recognise her full allure.’

‘You do not understand. Truly, I am not interested in marriage.’

‘That is very unusual.’

‘Did you not know, Aunt Tilly? Miss Lansdowne is somewhat unusual.’

‘So, what do you aspire to?’

‘I thought I would be an independent spinster in Cornwall.’

‘In other words, you would likely live with your mother or be a governess. Sadly, unless a female has wealth, independence is limited and usually results in kowtowing as a governess or companion.’

‘What would you have me do?’

‘I have no idea.’ Lady Wyburn beamed. ‘Fortunately, that is your decision. But, talking of independence, I hope we will be able to ensure Frances’s freedom from that dreadful Jason Ludlow.’

‘I am working on that,’ Sam said.

‘I suggest a poisoned hatpin.’ His great-aunt made this announcement with an enthusiastic nod.

‘Pardon?’

‘I always fancied poisoning someone with a hatpin,’ she added with another bob of her grey ringlets.

‘Much as I hate to curtail such heady aspirations I really must put a damper on that idea,’ Sam said.

‘My great-nephew is absolutely no fun,’ Lady Wyburn announced. ‘I will just go and make sure Merryweather hasn’t collapsed or bent down and got stuck.’

With these words, she stood and with a brisk fluidity which belied her years, moved swiftly from the room, leaving only the sound of the hurried ‘tap-tap-tap’ of her heels on the hardwood.

The chamber felt quiet without her vibrant energy and Sam was aware of their solitude. He looked across to Millie.

‘I wish you would reconsider the opera.’

‘Why?’ she asked in that blunt way of hers, with her firm brows contracted.

He paused, trying to find the right words. He knew that they had no future. He had found the one woman in England determined not to marry. But they had shared so much. He had learned so much, about himself, the world...

‘I’d like to share the beauty of opera with you. I