Chapter Twenty-four

“I WISH YOU WEREN'T GOING BACK TO SPAIN,” Lucy SAID disconsolately, sitting on the windowsill in Tamsyn's tower room. “I was really looking forward to sponsoring you for the Season.”

“It was a rather sudden decision,” Tamsyn said, buttoning her shirt, trying not to show her impatience.

“But what about your mother's family? Don't you want to find them anymore?”

“Your brother persuaded me that it wasn't really a good idea. They probably wouldn't know what to do with me if l did find them, and I probably wouldn't have anything in common with them, anyway.” Tamsyn tucked her shirt into the waist of her riding skirt and hooked it up, wishing that Lucy would cease this catechism and find something else to do. Gabriel had gone to Fowey for the afternoon. He'd offered no reason and she hadn't asked. If he'd gone after the twins, it was his business, just as her uncle was hers. His absence gave her the opportunity to ride to Lanjerrick and see her uncle, but Lucy was wasting precious time.

“Are you going back with Julian because you're his mistress?” Lucy spoke in a sudden rush, her cheeks flushed, her china-blue eyes unnaturally bright as she gazed intently at Tamsyn.

“Oh.” Tamsyn sat down on the dressing stool with a rueful grimace. “How did you discover that?” She picked up a riding boot and thrust her right foot into it.

“We heard you one evening,” Lucy said, her flush deepening. “And we… well, we saw you in the corridor. Julian was chasing you.”

Tamsyn grinned, remembering the occasion. “Why didn't you say something before?”

“I… we… we thought it would be indiscreet. Julian obviously didn't want anyone to know, because he's usually so cool with you, and… oh, dear, this is so embarrassing.” Lucy half laughed as she pressed her hands to her flaming cheeks.

“No, it's not,” Tamsyn said stoutly, pulling on her other boot. “But I don't think your brother would like to know that you know, so you will make sure Gareth doesn't bumble into a confession, won't you?” It explained Gareth's winks and innuendos and the sometimes calculating look she'd encountered. He was probably sizing up his chances of stepping into Julian's shoes should they become vacant, Tamsyn thought with an inner grimace.

“Of course Gareth wouldn't say anything,” Lucy declared a touch defensively. “He's not indiscreet.”

“No,” Tamsyn said, unconvinced. She could well imagine Gareth's approaching Julian with a hearty masculine laugh and a wink and the invitation to share the juicier aspects of his liaison. But she could as well imagine Julian's response, and if Gareth could imagine it, too, then he would hold his tongue.

“Well,” she said, “that is one reason why I'm going back to Spain.”

“Do you think you'll marry Julian?” Lucy was frowning now, nibbling her bottom lip.

Tamsyn swivelled on the stool to face the mirror as she tied the crisp linen stock at her neck. “Do you think I'd make him a good wife?” she countered lightly.

Lucy didn't immediately reply, and Tamsyn wished she hadn't asked. Then Lucy said, “If you love him, then of course you would. Do you?”

“Yes.” She turned back to the room. “But I doubt your brother thinks I would make an appropriate Lady St. Simon.”

“Well, you are rather… well, rather unlikely,” Lucy said slowly. “But I don't think that should make any difference.”

Tamsyn shrugged into her jacket. A full description of exactly how unlikely she was would require several hours of explanation that Lucy would find hard to credit. “Mistresses usually don't become wives,” she said casually. “Lucy, I have to run an important errand, so you must excuse me. I'll see you at dinner.” She went to the door and opened it invitingly.

“Where are you going?” Lucy, with obvious reluctance, prepared to leave the room. “Shall I accompany you?”

“No, because I intend to ride Cesar, and there isn't a horse in the stable that you can ride that would keep up with him.” Tamsyn smiled to soften the statement. Lucy was a dreadful horsewoman, and Tamsyn suddenly vividly remembered the moment outside Badajos when Cesar had shied and the colonel had grabbed her bridle. She'd been furious, and he'd explained that he was used to being on the watch when riding with his sister.

Lucy pulled a face but didn't argue further. “I'll see you later, then.”

“Yes.” Tamsyn waved from the door as the other woman trailed rather mournfully down the corridor to her own room.

Tamsyn closed the door with a sigh of relief and began to gather things together.

Copies of the documents Cecile had given her went into the pocket of her cloak; the locket was around her neck, as usual. The original documents were hidden in a jewel cask in the armoire. She thrust her pistol into the waistband of her skirt and strapped knives to each calf over her britches.

She didn't expect this meeting with Cedric Penhallan to turn: violent. But just in case, she was prepared, both physically and mentally. Her head was clear, her heart cold and determined and filled with vengeance. She was going to drop like a bolt from the blue into the vicious, orderly world of Cedric Penhallan. And she was going to claim her mother's diamonds as the price of her silence. It could be called blackmail, of course, if one was being a particularly fussy stickler for ethics, but she was dealing with an attempted murderer… and goodness knows what other crimes he'd committed in the interests of ambition throughout his long career. It was simple justice. And besides, the diamonds belonged to her.

An inconvenient little voice trilled that Julian would say it was still blackmail, however you painted it. But he was safely in London and never going to find out.

Josefa came bustling in as she was putting on her hat, a rather dashing tricorn. The Spanish woman was wreathed in smiles and hadn't stopped smiling since they'd returned with the glorious news that they were going home. She rushed around the room, picking up Tamsyn's discarded afternoon gown, scolding her nurseling for her untidiness, but her smile unwavering.

“Josefa, I'm going for a ride, if anyone wants to know. I'll be back by five o'clock at the latest.” Tamsyn planted a kiss on one shiny round cheek and left the room, running down to the stables.

Five minutes later she was on the road to Lanjerrick.

She and Gabriel had ridden over one afternoon a few weeks before, to get a sense of the extent of the Penhallan estates, but they hadn't entered the grounds. The gray stone house stood on a promontory overlooking St. Austell Bay and was easily seen from the road. It was a house of turrets and gables, with a steeply pitched roof and transomed windows. Tamsyn had taken an instant dislike to it, finding it forbidding after the soft, golden warmth of Tregarthan.

She turned through the stone gate posts and rode up a weed-infested drive. Apprehension and excitement prickled along her spine as she left the road behind her and rode deeper into Penhallan land. This was Cecile's home, the place where she had spent the years of her growing. Had it changed much in the last twenty years? Had she missed it much? Tamsyn realized she'd never given that question any thought. Cecile had always seemed so joyful in her life that it was hard to imagine she had any regrets. But perhaps sometimes she had thought of her childhood home with nostalgia, as Tamsyn thought now with an ache of longing of the mountain villages and the icy peaks of her own childhood.

The drive opened out into a gravel sweep, and the house loomed, ivy covered, the stonework cracked in places, its windows curiously blank, like blind eyes. It struck Tamsyn as strange that a man as rich and powerful as Cedric Penhallan should neglect his property. When

Cecile had talked of Lanjerrick, she'd described its magnificence, the grand parties, the weekend shooting parties, the endless stream of guests. But there had been women in the house then. Now there was only Cedric and the vile twins. Presumably they didn't notice the air of neglect.