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“What about it?” he finally asked.

“The village is unusually prosperous compared to other towns in Cornwall.”

“I did notice that, yes. Isn’t this area rife with smuggling?”

“That’s what I understand to be the case. It could also be the influence of the local viscount. He was supposed to be home by now, but he may have been delayed by the storm.” She gestured at the muddy mess stretching into the distance and sighed. “Poor Margaret. I hope this clears soon. I hate to think I’ll miss the baby’s birth on account of a little rain.”

“In fairness, it was a lot of rain, not a little.”

“True.” She hopped off the wall, bent to pick up a pebble, and threw it down the road. “What are we going to do, Henry?”

“Return to the inn and make love again?” he asked hopefully.

“Even when men are concussed, they only have one thing on their mind.” Artemisia rolled her eyes. “You should be resting, however. Not gallivanting about with me.”

“I wouldn’t be resting at the inn, either.”

She clearly wasn’t offended, for she tucked her arm around his waist and shaded her eyes to peer down at the rolling ocean below. “If one has to be stranded with a handsome stranger, this is hardly the worst place to end up.”

“I am beginning to think I don’t want to remember my previous life,” he said, cupping her jaw and turning her face to his. His heart skipped a beat. Warmth tingled along his skin. “What if I stay with you?”

She cast him a quick, tight smile. That was a no. Disappointment pinched him, hard.

“It sounds as though you’re running away from something, Henry. Don’t you think you should figure out what it is before you ask to stay with a woman you’ve known for barely two days?”

“But what a two days they have been,” he said.

Artemisia sighed. “This has been unexpectedly wonderful.”

Which meant that the only way things could go from here, was south.

7

ARTEMISIA

Back at the Mermaid’s Rest, Artemisia consulted with her driver and decided that they would leave the next morning if the sun held. She simply could not wait any longer. Determined to enjoy her remaining time with Henry, they spent time wandering the seashore exploring the natural caves worn into the rocks below Cavalier Cove.

Whomever he was, Henry was a gentleman with a sense of adventure. She found herself listening to his accent trying to decide whether that might be a clue as to his identity, but all she could discern was that he spoke like a man who was well-educated and likely hailed from near London. She was no student of accents, but nothing in the way he clipped his consonants and drawled his vowels stood out to her as belonging to anything other than the upper class. Landed gentry, perhaps?

God forbid he prove to be someone from her social set. Artemisia had been fortunate to be born into a well-off genteel family, and she had married a dashing gentleman from an even wealthier family. With no other heirs to split the inheritance with, she lived comfortably off the income from her investments. A right Lady Russell, Margaret had called her, after reading Persuasion.

She had no interest in marrying again, but she did enjoy male companionship. Perhaps she should keep Henry on. She could give him a proper job and bed him whenever they felt the urge. It wouldn’t be entirely scandal-free, but there were worse sins in the world than two people being together outside the bounds of marriage.

What are you thinking? she scolded herself. What kind of example would that be to Margaret’s child?

Unless one wished to consign oneself to the margins of society, like that absurd Lord Byron, anything more than a discreet affaire was unthinkable. She liked being involved in charities like the Widows Benevolent Society, even if years after their founding, they were still arguing over whether widows should properly have an apostrophe at the end. How many meetings had she sat through watching with amusement while women argued whether it should be plural or possessive? Either choice was correct, but the organization had yet to pick one and stick with it. A ridiculous thing to argue about, yet their earnestness amused her greatly. She wouldn’t want to lose their friendship over a man.

At supper, she sat back in her chair and patted her full belly. “I cannot remember the last time I had such a wonderful day.” Reaching across the table, she squeezed Henry’s hand. “Thank you.”

“I should be thanking you.” His eyes sparkled with warmth. “Without your generosity, I would still be wandering about as bare as the day I was born.”

“I strongly doubt that. Cavalier Cove is an insular place but the people are kind. Someone would have helped you.”

“Perhaps. But I am glad it was you.”

Henry

“The viscount still hasn’t returned from London?” Artemisia said worriedly to Mrs. Gosling.