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“No, naturally I’ll succeed. It’s just that I like knowing that I am still half-owner in everything here in Cornwall. It would make me sound more important, more steady to my future father-in-law, if I could claim residence at Scrilady Hall. By God, your feet are bare,” Bennett said in a choked voice. “Good God, your feet have nothing on them.”

“Penrose,” North said in that soft voice, “Caroline has very nice feet. I enjoy looking at them.”

She just shook her head and opened the library doors.

Tregeagle and Coombe were standing there, staring. Neither of them appeared at all embarrassed that they’d been caught eavesdropping.

“I didn’t hear you, miss,” Coombe said. “Ah, your feet are bare, just as I happened to hear Mr. Penrose say quite loudly. It isn’t fitting. Now.” He looked toward North. “My lord, what do you want us to do?”

Caroline cleared her throat. “I want you to have Mr. Brogan fetched here immediately, Coombe.”

“My lord?”

“Do as her ladyship asks, Coombe,

” North said.

“I’m not certain I want to do this,” Bennett said. “I’d be giving up everything forever.”

North just turned and looked at him. He said nothing, just looked at him. Caroline saw that his hands weren’t even fisted at his sides. He looked utterly calm and relaxed. She knew he was quite ready to smash Bennett. She hoped Bennett would give him provocation. She would like to see the greedy little bastard flat on his back on the library floor. But Bennett, with an animal’s cunning, kept quiet. North took his arm and led him from the library. “You may sit in the hall, Penrose, and keep your mouth shut.”

He came back into the library, shutting the door. Then he was examining it carefully. Caroline said, “What are you doing, North?”

“I’m wondering if there is still a key about to lock this door.”

“We could put a chair back under the knob.”

“No, I want a nice clean key. One that turns, one that couldn’t be opened by Tregeagle or Coombe, even by Polgrain if he chances to wander out of his kitchen.”

Caroline walked to the far windows that gave onto the east side of Mount Hawke. The slope was very steep here, with strewn rocks dotting the slope all the way to the bottom where a narrow length of stream ran. He said from behind her, “Now all we need is a visit from Roland Ffalkes, demanding the rest of your fortune, or here with a gun to shoot me and force you to marry him.”

“I am getting gray hairs from all this,” Caroline said, turning to face him. “Just look, North, right here over my right eye, a gray hair.”

“Good God,” he said. “It appears you’ve lied to me. I thought you were young and winsome when, in fact, you appear to have aged overnight, lying to me, a wolf in sheep’s clothing, a crone in virgin wrappings.”

She stared up at him. “You know, North, that was quite funny. You’re a witty man, and when you laugh you truly seem to be enjoying yourself and life. So where is this dark brooding hero I expected to marry? You are the one who misrepresented himself. You told me you were a man who would give me somber looks, never speak, and act endlessly mysterious. You haven’t walked your hounds even once to the moor.”

“Damned if I know what happened to him, Caroline. Perhaps he finally realized that brooding wasn’t all that exciting, that it was really a boring pastime.”

By late afternoon Bennett Penrose was in possession of six thousand three hundred pounds and had signed away everything Mr. Brogan could think of to have him sign away. North, Caroline, Owen, and the three pregnant ladies all stood on the deep-cut front steps to wave him off. Mr. Brogan had dashed off to meet a friend, although Caroline suspected it was a female person who was much closer than just a friend. His eyes gave him away, she thought, as she’d thanked him. They were bright and distracted. Had her aunt Eleanor been more than just a friend with Mr. Brogan? Mrs. Freely was right. Mr. Brogan looked quite handsome; it had to be a woman.

Alice, Caroline noticed now, was still staying very close to Evelyn, now pressed firmly against her side. Evelyn patted her hand every so often.

“My lord.”

North turned. “Yes, Tregeagle?”

“The three female servants aren’t pleased with their bedchambers.”

Caroline frowned. “But I selected their rooms myself, Tregeagle. The three rooms next to each other on the east side of the nursery. They’re quite lovely rooms.”

Tregeagle was mute as the great oak front doors.

“Tregeagle,” North said in a very soft voice. “I think it wise that you speak to me.”

“Er, very well, my lord. It’s just that we didn’t believe those rooms were fine enough for the female servants we don’t want to be here and who aren’t necessary in any case. We wanted them in more elaborate chambers.”

“Where did you take the female servants, Tregeagle?”


Tags: Catherine Coulter Legacy Historical