Rescued By The Forbidden Rake. Mary Brendan
‘Michael might know where she’s gone.’
‘There she is!’ Peter drew Faye’s attention to a copse; Claire and Peggy were emerging from between two brightly painted caravans.
Slipping her hand from Peter’s arm, Faye set off towards them, her heartbeat accelerating in alarm. They had the furtive look of people who feared being spotted doing something they shouldn’t.
‘I have been looking for you. Where have you been?’
Claire spun about with a guilty gasp, her cheeks reddening. ‘I...we have only been looking at the ponies.’
Faye glanced at the squat piebald animals tethered to the low branches of trees, sedately cropping grass. ‘You should have said you were going off the beaten track.’ She hadn’t really believed Claire might come to harm on this sunny afternoon, yet still uneasiness prickled at her. As she glanced at Peggy the girl averted her eyes, then excused herself, running back to the stalls with her fiery red tresses flying out behind her.
‘I see Lieutenant Collins has turned up.’ Claire sounded unenthusiastic at the forthcoming reunion with her future brother-in-law. Faye knew that Michael would react similarly. Peter had a lukewarm relationship with her half-siblings, believing them to be obstacles to his marriage. But Faye wouldn’t hear of her brother and sister being nudged aside before they were of an age to be independent.
‘I expect you’ve had your fill of the fair if you’re feeling bored enough to pet the ponies.’ Faye linked arms with Claire. ‘Let’s set off home. While we wait for Mrs Gideon to cook dinner I’ll show you what I’ve bought you today.’
‘You’ve got me a present?’ Claire sounded delighted. Then her expression drooped. ‘Is Lieutenant Collins coming home with us?’
‘Of course! He’s putting up in Wilverton...but will dine with us first.’
Faye was walking ahead with Claire along the narrow earthy track towards Mulberry House. Her fiancé and brother were bringing up the rear and they had been strolling for little more than ten minutes when she noticed Mr Kavanagh and his party descending the hill towards Wilverton.
‘Who is that with Mr Kavanagh?’ Claire whispered, her eyes widening on the sight of the lovely young woman sitting atop the black stallion. The two maids were marching one either side of the fine animal, led by its master.
‘Umm...the young lady is a friend of his I believe,’ Faye said diplomatically, then turned to glance over a shoulder at Peter. He, too, had caught sight of the people descending towards the valley, travelling on a parallel course to their own.
‘Do you know that fellow?’ Peter had noticed the gentleman’s head turn in their direction.
‘We’ve not been introduced. I have it from the vicar’s wife, though, that he is the new master of Valeside Manor...an Irishman, I believe.’ Faye had noticed that the two men were staring at one another in the way fellows did when summing one another up.
‘Mrs Gideon said he’s a black-hearted rogue.’ Claire followed her pronouncement with a mischievous smile. ‘He’s very handsome though.’
‘Is he now?’ was all Peter said, striding ahead and whipping aside the entangling grass with a twig he’d found on the ground.
Faye glanced across the meadow, but Kavanagh and his entourage had disappeared into the valley that led towards Wilverton.
‘I’ve put the chicken and vegetables on the dining table, Miss Shawcross. I’ll be in the kitchen with Bertram, doing mending. Just ring, if you need me.’
‘Thank you, Mrs Gideon.’
Faye and Peter had been idling in the parlour, waiting for their dinner while examining their fairground gifts.
‘Mrs Gideon and her husband could surely go home now the meal is prepared,’ Peter murmured close to his fiancée’s ear, as he helped her to be seated. ‘I’ll gladly assist in clearing away the crockery if it means I get more time alone with you.’
‘You know Nelly’s a stickler for etiquette,’ Faye whispered a rueful reply, unfolding her napkin. Her housekeeper took pains to ensure that her mistress’s reputation was protected even if that meant returning home late, after visitors had left. Mr Collins might be Miss Shawcross’s future husband, but in Nelly Gideon’s mind one observed rules until vows were taken.
As Peter carved the chicken and helped hand around the dishes of vegetables Faye felt a twinge of melancholy that he couldn’t always show such tolerance to her brother and sister. Soon, he would want them out of the way as well so that he could have his fiancée to himself. When it was just the two of them Faye enjoyed his kisses and caresses although sometimes she wondered why she didn’t crave their privacy as passionately as he did.
* * *
‘When must you return to your ship?’ Faye asked when the children had left the table and she had also eaten her fill.
‘In less than a week, I’m afraid.’ Peter put down his pudding spoon and patted his stomach. ‘Your Mrs Gideon always turns out a decent dinner.’
‘She is a boon and I don’t know what I’d do without her or her husband helping us out.’ Faye rang the little bell to let Mrs Gideon know that she could clear the table. ‘If you have finished, we can go and sit in the parlour.’
‘I’d certainly like a little comfort before being ejected by your virtuous housekeeper to the frugal offerings of the White Hart.’ His hazel eyes darkened with desire as he pulled out her chair, then teased her nape with his fingers. ‘I can’t wait much longer for us to be husband and wife.’ His voice sounded rough. ‘Have you contacted that woman yet to advise her you are to be married and she must send for her children?’
‘I have not; as I have said, I’ve no idea whereabouts in Ireland my stepmother is.’ Faye felt a niggling exasperation tighten her insides. Despite her reply never altering, Peter regularly asked her the same question about ‘that woman’ as he called Deborah Shawcross. Faye truthfully did not know her whereabouts and, even if she did, she would not force her brother and sister to go and live with an adulteress who had rejected her own flesh and blood in favour of her lover.
At the time her brother had been just six years old and although Michael had been distraught for a while he now avoided speaking of his mother. Claire, at ten years old, had comprehended what had occurred between her parents and had been so hurt by her mother’s abandonment that she’d professed to hate her.
Humiliated by his wife’s betrayal Cecil Shawcross had dealt with it as best he could, but when it became apparent Deborah was not coming home he had banned any mention of her. They had all sensed that their father’s snapping and snarling was the outcome of him being deeply wounded and had obeyed his wishes. But none of them had forgotten that Deborah Shawcross had turned their lives upside down.
Peter’s frustration that his fiancée had been burdened with caring for her siblings was understandable, but in other ways Faye thought him unreasonable. She would happily marry immediately, but Peter had made it clear that the children could not have a permanent home beneath his roof. Even had Faye not promised her late father that she would see the children safely settled, she loved them too much to ever reject them as their mother had.
‘May I?’ Peter had picked up the decanter on the sideboard in the parlour.
‘Oh, do help yourself,’ Faye replied, settling on the sofa. The children had gone to their rooms as they always did when Lieutenant Collins paid a visit. Now that they were alone Faye knew she had a perfect opportunity to broach the unpleasant subject of her meeting with Westwood. But she was reluctant to spoil their harmony on Peter’s first day back and decided to wait until tomorrow to break news that was likely to create a bad atmosphere. But know about it he must.
‘So,