Page 26 of The Cornish Mermaid

The footman executed a formal bow. “Lady Ormonde and Miss Ysella are both in the library, my lord.” As he rose from the bow, his eyes rested for a moment on Morvoren, as impassive and incurious as the butler’s had been.

“Thank you, Albert,” Kit said, and, keeping a firm hold on Morvoren’s hand, he marched her across the hall toward a door on the far side.

She went with him, mainly because she had no alternative, but inside, her heart beat a thunderous tattoo and despite the constraints of her stays, her breath came fast and furious. What would Kit’s mother and sister think of him bringing a strange young woman of dubious origins into their home? Of asking them to take in a waif and stray off the streets, which was in truth what he was doing. A waif wearing his mother’s old clothes. Morvoren couldn’t have felt more waiflike if she’d been a workhouse inmate in Oliver Twist.

Kit pushed open the door and ushered her through.

The library occupied a long, high-ceilinged room and fully lived up to its name. Shelves of books adorned every square inch of wall space, save for where four long windows let in the morning sunshine. At one end of the room, around the necessary fireplace, happily empty of a fire right now, a cluster of high-backed, upholstered chairs had been assembled. Seated in two of the chairs were two women.

Towing Morvoren in his wake, Kit strode up the room toward them.

The older of the two women could not have been in more than her late forties, her barely greying hair elegantly arranged in a tumble of dark curls that peeped from the constraints of a lacy mob cap. A hint of Kit clung to her features, but nothing of her brother Jago, thank goodness. However, something about her suggested she might be a country girl at heart. Maybe it was the laughter lines around her lively eyes or the sprinkling of freckles that decorated her small nose, but she looked as though she scoffed at staying out of the sun.

The other woman was clearly her daughter. A smaller, daintier version of her mother with the clear complexion of the very young and the same dark eyes as her brother, Miss Ysella Carlyon was undeniably a beauty.

Ysella leapt to her feet, dropping the sewing from her lap, and ran to her brother, throwing her arms around him. “Kit! Oh Kit! You’re back. I’m so pleased. I thought you’d be in Cornwall for weeks yet, as you usually are!” On tiptoe, she planted a resounding kiss on both his cheeks then stood back from him, her eyes going to Morvoren, appraising and curious, and thankfully also full of cheerful excitement and welcome. “But who is this lovely creature?”

Lady Ormonde rose more slowly to her feet, her expression not matching her daughter’s rapturous one. Instead, a stern frown had settled on her brow as she looked from Kit to Morvoren. No doubt she recognized one of her old dresses. As the mother of what must be a very eligible son, she was probably jumping to all the wrong conclusions at this very moment.

A hot blush rose up Morvoren’s cheeks. What she needed right now was for the wooden floorboards to open and swallow her whole.

Kit released her hand. “Mother, Ysella, allow me to introduce you to Miss Morvoren Lucas, an acquaintance of mine from Cornwall. We had the pleasure of traveling up from Exeter together on the mail coach, and I have prevailed upon her to stay here with us for a while.”

No mention of him having fished her out of the sea and thinking her a mermaid. That would most likely have been a hard story to get even his adoring sister to accept.

Lady Ormonde’s gaze lingered on Morvoren’s clothing. “I think there is a little more to this than you are telling us, Kit,” she said, her voice icily cold, in stark contrast to her bubbly daughter.

“Mother!” Ysella scolded. “Don’t be so mean.” She turned back to Morvoren. “Miss Lucas, I’m so very pleased to meet you. It was becoming quite dull here without Kit, and now that he’s back and has brought you for my entertainment, I’m sure we’ll have much more fun.”

“Ysella. Be quiet,” her mother said. “I wish a better explanation from your brother.” She fixed Kit with a stony stare.

What a formidable woman she was turning out to be. As bad, or worse due to her station in life, than her brother Jago. But what must it be like to be the mother of a son many gold-digging young women might be after? Just to snare themselves a title. Morvoren knew her Georgette Heyer. She’d probably be reacting in the same way if she’d been in Lady Ormonde’s shoes.

Kit’s mother fixed him with a hard stare. “Well?” When he didn’t answer, she went on. “I’m neither blind nor stupid, my boy. Why is Miss Lucas dressed in one of my old gowns which is now thirty years out of date?” She raised a delicate eyebrow. “Does she possess no clothing of her own?”

Ysella’s eyes flew wide. “Your old gown, Mama? I thought perhaps that in Cornwall they’re behind the times with the styles.”

“Yes. My gown.” Lady Ormonde’s cold gaze continued to survey Morvoren from head to foot.

Self-consciously, Morvoren tried to make certain her feet were tucked out of sight under her skirts, which of course drew Lady Ormonde’s attention.

Her delicately arched eyebrows rose once more, and she returned her gaze to her son.

Kit heaved a sigh. “All right. I’ll tell you. If you must know, Miss Lucas was lost overboard from a ship, and I rescued her. She… lost most of her belongings in the sea and we can’t find any of her relations to come to her aid. Perhaps they’ve all sailed on to whatever destination her ship was headed to. I felt responsible for her, as I fished her from the water in my net, so I thought bringing her here, with a maid, of course, the best plan of action. I couldn’t abandon her without even a gown to wear and nowhere to stay.” He paused and gave his mother hard look for hard look. “Thinking that my mother and sister would welcome her.”

A long silence ensued.

His mother broke it. “Am I to understand that when you rescued Miss Lucas, she was… naked?”

Best to keep out of this exchange.

Kit shook his head in a hurry. “Nothing of the sort, Mother, but her clothes were damaged, and she needed to borrow some clothing to retain her respectability.”

“How romantic,” Ysella gasped. “And you found her Mama’s clothes. How clever of you, Kit, as she seems to fit them perfectly, although they’re sadly not at all fashionable now.” She turned a bright smile on Morvoren. “But I think you are much the same size as I am, and I should be delighted to provide you with some dresses that won’t look so fusty and old-fashioned.” She had an infectious smile. “It will be like having a sister again. My own sisters are so drearily taken up with their children and much older than I.” She clapped a hand to her mouth. “And I’m not at all supposed to mention that Meliora is increasing, of course. What could be more dull than getting so fat?”

“Ysella,” her mother said. “Enough. Perhaps you will take Miss Lucas upstairs to wherever it is your brother has decreed she is to stay. I’d like to have a word with him in private.” She returned her gaze to Morvoren. “And do please find her something to wear that doesn’t remind me of my girlhood.”

“The blue room,” Kit managed to interject.