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‘And Jack Mason was on the Dolphin?’
He nodded. ‘Due to bad weather we were blown off course and failed to pick up our intended cargo in Kingston. I wasn’t unduly concerned about the cargo we would be taking back because there were always plenty to choose from, but when we put in there was an unusually large number of merchantmen. On a suggestion from the merchant and a letter of introduction, I intended going on to Barbados to pick up a cargo of rum and sugar, but Mason was anxious to leave for home.
‘I wasn’t on board when the fire on the Night Hawk started and it didn’t occur to me until we were loaded with the cargo meant for the Night Hawk and had left Kingston that he’d been behind it. Under cover of darkness and away from the eyes of the harbour officials, he fired it, knowing there were men on board.’
‘Why did you go to the West Indies on that voyage? You’d only just returned from Gibraltar with the Rowena Jane.’
‘A lot of money would be changing hands on the voyage to the Indies. I felt it might be better if I were to carry out the negotiations. I didn’t entirely trust Mason and would have got rid of him before sailing, but it was too late to find another captain.’
‘When you found out what he’d done, why didn’t you turn back to Jamaica and hand him over to the officials there? Surely that would have been the right thing to do.’
‘Had I done that, I’d have had a mutiny on my hands. The crew weren’t for going back to a place where they might have been thrown into gaol. Besides, most of them were behind Mason that night.’
‘And how did you come to be shot?’
‘At a quayside tavern.’
‘Was that where Mr Searle found you?’ He nodded. ‘What happened to his crew was a terrible thing and Jack Mason should have been punished. You can hardly blame Mr Searle for seeking justice and compensation for those who were maimed, but I cannot condone his method of exacting revenge—if that’s what it was,’ she said, feeling a stirring of doubt since his denial.
Rowena knew the rest, of how the Rowena Jane had put in at Antigua and found its owner alive but a cripple. Deeply affected by this latest turn of events, she spun on her heel and stalked to the door.
‘Now where are you off to?’
‘To see what has happened to Mr Whelan. You are right, Father. For me to marry well is the only way out of this mess. I’ll get Tobias Searle off our backs if it’s the last thing I do.’
Unfortunately Mr Whelan didn’t arrive. According to Jane, who had watching from the window, he had been waylaid by the detestable Mr Searle as he approached the house; after they had spoken together, Mr Whelan had walked away.
Rowena galloped along Falmouth Haven. As she reached higher ground, her dogs, two faithful companions she had reared from pups, raced ahead. They were young and fresh and relieved to be out of the stables, their sleek black shapes pouring over the ground and slipping in and out of the rocks.
The wind ruffled her hair, tugging it loose from the ribbon. Away from the town she dismounted and left her horse free to nibble the short grass. Sitting on the grey-veined rocks, she clasped her arms around her drawn-up knees, one of the dogs settling beside her. The air was sweet, smelling of the spiky bushes of gorse and tasting of the sea.
Her gaze did a sweep of Falmouth’s deep harbour beyond the quay. Being the most westerly mail-packet station, with ships stopping on their passage to the Mediterranean, the West Indies and North America and requiring provisions, Falmouth, with its flourishing and increasing trade, was a prosperous, bustling harbour town, full of rich merchants.
As a merchant trader, her father’s prosperity had always been inextricably linked to the sea, but like every other trader he was always acutely conscious of the dangers that lay just beyond the horizon. Pirate vessels were a constant threat, and because of it he nearly always sailed in convoy with other merchantmen.
Rowena remembered a time when all over the southern coast, a veritable flotilla of traders and merchants had hoisted their sails and pushed their vessels into the troubled waters of the north Atlantic on trading voyages to Spain, Portugal and the colonies of North America. The hazards of such daring oceanic voyages were considerable, and tempests, hidden reefs and Barbary pirates had taken a grim toll over the previous century.
Her gaze travelled to where the Rowena Jane was moored. She was saddened by the thought that her father had put it in the hands of a broker. Her eyes moved on to a sloop anchored out in the bay. She looked sleek and fast with tall, raking masts pointing to the sky and its sails neatly furled. A pennant—a bold, bright gold ‘S’ entwined with the letter ‘T’ against a background of bright crimson—flew from its masthead. She stood tall and serene, like a proud queen. A figurehead of a woman graced the head of the ship and the name Cymbeline was carved into the stern.
She now knew the vessel belonged to Tobias Searle. It was his flagship, just one of many that he owned, and could outgun and outrun most of those who tried to take her.
Looking inland, she let her eyes dwell on the skeletal, blackened ruins of Tregowan Hall rising high above the trees in distance. Fire had gutted part of the hall ten years ago, its owner, Lord Julius Tregowan, and his wife having perished in the blaze. The Tregowan estate was a prosperous one with vast productive acres. The quiet rural communities in this part of Cornwall flourished on rumours about the family that had lived and died in the great house. Lord Tregowan’s heir, who employed a bailiff to administer the working of the estate, remained a mystery. Some said he lived in Bristol and had never been to Tregowan Hall to look over his inheritance. Whether he eventually came to Cornwall remained to be seen, and meant nothing to her anyway.
Her thoughts far away, she did not seem to hear his approach until the dogs bristled and growled low in their throats. Turning her head, she looked up, shielding her eyes against the sun’s brightness. A man astride a horse was looking down at her. Her eyes and brain recognised his presence, but her emotions were slow to follow.
‘You!’ she said, surprised to see Mr Searle.
Mocking blue eyes gazed back at her. ‘Aye, Rowena,’ Tobias said, swinging his powerful frame out of the saddle, his boots sounding sharp against the rocks. ‘My apologies. I didn’t mean to startle you.’
Removing his hat, the intruder looked down at her, his face grave, though Rowena noticed one eyebrow was raised in that whimsical way he had and his lips were inclined to curl in a smile. What was he doing up here? she had time to wonder, since he was a long way from his ship.
His gaze swept the landscape, settling for just a moment on the skeletal chimneys of Tregowan Hall, before coming to rest on the young woman who made no attempt to get up. He was surprised to see that she wore a jacket and breeches and black riding boots more suitable to a male than a female. She lounged indolently against the rock at her back, one of her dogs beside her, her long slender legs stretched out in front of her and crossed at the ankles. She was as healthy and thoughtless as a young animal, sleek, graceful and high-spirited as a thoroughbred, and dangerous when crossed.
There was also a subdued strength and subtleness that gave her an easy, almost naïve elegance she was totally unaware of. The sun shone directly on the glossy cape of her deep brown hair, which had escaped the restriction of the red ribbon. Few women were fortunate enough to have been blessed with such captivating looks. Her eyes were as clear and steady and calm as the waters he had seen lapping a stretch of tropical sand and were the same exquisite mixture of turquoise, sapphire and green, their colour depending on the light and her mood. In fact, Rowena Golding was blessed with everything she would need to guarantee her future happiness.
The beauty of her caught his breath, then irritation at her recklessness in being up here alone.
‘Have you no sense?’ he chided, sitting with his back to a rock facing her, a knee drawn up and an arm dangling across it. Glancing at one of the dogs reclining some yards away watching him closely, baring its teeth menacingly since it did not know him, he made no move to approach it. ‘Don’t you realise the danger of riding alone up here, where vagabonds and gypsies and all kinds of travellers roam the country looking for work? They would do you serious harm for the pennies in your pocket. What is your father thinking of to allow it?’
She gave him a haughty look, as though to ask what that could possibly have to do with him. ‘I don’t have any pennies in my pocket, and my father has more important things to worry about than what I get up to. Besides I rarely do what people suggest, as you must have noticed. What did you say to Mr Whelan, by the way? He didn’t even wait to see Father. Jane told me you spoke to him and that the two of you left together.’
‘I merely told him you were spoken for.’
Her eyes opened wide and her tone was indignant. ‘You told him that? It was a lie and you had no right.’
‘Surely you would not choose to wed an old man over me.’
‘Oh, I shall marry—if it will get you off our backs—but never would I consider you, Mr Searle.’
His eyes narrowed. ‘Worry not. Before you know it, your father will come up with another suitor.’
Rowena glared across at him, holding a tight rein on her temper. ‘It is none of your affair.’
‘On the contrary, my dear Miss Golding. Everything your father does is of primary importance to me. I have an investment in your family. I seek only what is my due, and if marrying you to some tottering ancient is his only means of acquiring the money to settle his debt, then so be it.’
‘Mr Searle, I may be many things, but I am certainly not your dear.’
A soft chuckle and a warm, appreciative light in his eyes conveyed his pleasure. ‘You are by far the loveliest and dearest thing I’ve seen for many a year, Rowena.’
His gaze swept over her, from her shining head, sliding leisurely over her rounded bosom and down the length of her legs. Her hand went to the ears of the panting dog, which she fondled and smoothed and pulled, to the dog’s evident delight, and she was rewarded by the thump of a black tail. It obviously meant a great deal to her the way she was fussing over it. Tobias felt a strange sensation come over him and he could hardly believe it when he realised it was resentment—that he, Tobias Searle, who knew himself to be attractive to women, and not because he was one of the richest merchants in Bristol, but because—and he would make no bones about it—he was handsome and had a certain way with the ladies, could be jealous of a dog.
Casting a wary eye over both animals, he saw they were big dogs, gentle and affectionate, but let anyone make a move they didn’t like against their mistress and he suspected they could become fierce as tigers.
A lazy smile dawned across his tanned face, and Rowena’s heart skipped a beat. Tobias Searle had a smile that could melt an iceberg. She immediately wished she’d worn her riding habit, which was less revealing than her breeches, for his careful scrutiny left no curve untouched. When his eyes returned to hers, her cheeks were aflame with indignation. He smiled into her glare.
‘Yes, Rowena. You really are quite lovely, you know.’
‘And you are the most insufferable man I have ever met.’
She fell silent, looking at him openly. His face was virile with a compelling strength, which said that no matter what words she flung at him, he would never yield to them. His dark curling hair was cut short, glossy and thick, dipping across his wide forehead. His eyes were steady and narrowed in a deep brilliant blue when he smiled, and his mobile mouth curved across strong white teeth in his brown face.
‘What are you doing here? Were you spying on me?’
‘I grew bored with Falmouth and came to see if the sights were better up here.’ The corners of his lips twitched with amusement, and his eyes gleamed into hers as he added, ‘I am happy to report they are much better.’
‘It’s a pity you have nothing better to do than go about ogling women.’
‘I could find plenty to do, if I weren’t waiting for your father to come up with the money he owes me. So, with time on my hands, I can’t think of anything more enjoyable than being in the company of a very attractive young lady.’
‘So, not only are you a man hellbent on ruining my father, you are also a womanising rake,’ she sneered.
Making himself more comfortable Tobias grinned leisurely. ‘Don’t mind me. It’s just my way. You must forgive me. I’ve been too long at sea and have grown forgetful of how to behave when I find myself in the presence of a lovely lady. It will take a while for me to re-adapt to civilised society.’
Rowena’s eyes flared with poorly suppressed ire. ‘Then go and re-adapt with some other unsuspecting woman. Falmouth is full of willing wenches. I’m sure you will be able to find one to your taste—or perhaps you already have.’
He laughed softly. ‘A gentleman never tells, Rowena, but I’d rather spend my time with you. I’d like to get to know you better. Besides, we have to delve into this matter of how your father is to pay his debt to me.’
‘How he does that is his concern.’
‘And yours. I hate to think you’ll be forced into marriage because of a debt owed to me. You’re worth much more than any debt.’
‘Mr Searle, you have clearly taken leave of your senses if you think of me as compensation for my father’s unpaid debt to you.’
‘That is exactly what you are. To get himself out of his mess, he will have you bought and sold to the highest bidder before you can blink an eye.’
Rowena’s jaw dropped with indignation and her eyes flashed like fireworks. ‘Please don’t insult my father. My father and I might argue like the best of them among ourselves, but when family honour is called into question I can be counted on to unite with him against the world if necessary. So condemn him to others if you must, but do not do so to me.’
Tobias clamped his jaw shut. Apparently he had pricked her defences, for she looked irritated and could not let it lie.
‘You don’t know him,’ she went on, ‘what kind of man he is. When he was younger he had the tough-fibred tenacity that every man who tries to make a living at sea, whatever the size of his concern, needs to make a success of it. My father had it, for in his veins runs the blood of the stout-hearted Cornishman who would fight for his own bit of ground until they buried him in it. But ever since he returned home to live the life of a cripple, something inside him has shrivelled and died.
‘I’ve watched the fight drain out of him—the force, the need, or whatever it was that drove him—and with it the means for us to survive. Our house is tottering like a house of cards, Mr Searle, but I will not see my family homeless and forced to manage like the meanest beggars. No matter what you accuse him of, I honour my father and would not deceive him by taking up with the likes of you.’
Tobias considered her seriously for a moment, then got to his feet, slipping his hat on his head. Looking down at her his mockery was subtle yet direct. ‘No, I don’t imagine you would—and that was a commanding speech, by the way.’
‘My father is deeply concerned by your accusations. If you truly believe he was behind that terrible incident with your ship, then there is nothing I can say to change your mind—only that perhaps you don’t know the true nature of Jack Mason. With every day that dawns my father’s burden—and mine—will become more wearisome, and that is because of you. You set your verdict against a decent, honourable man before he could voice a plea.’
‘As he did when he accused me of shooting him in the back.’
‘Are you saying you didn’t?’
‘That is precisely what I am saying.’
Rowena was staring up at him, waiting for him to continue, to tell her more, but he chose not to. He looked back at her, at the tumbling mass of hair swirling about her shoulders. Beneath its fullness dark fringed, smoky blue-green eyes glowed with their own light, the colour in their depths shifting like richly hued jade. Her nose, finely boned yet slightly pert, was elevated, and gently rising cheekbones were touched with a light flush of colour. Her lips, not the pouting lips of some simpering females, but gently curving, were expressive and soft.
She was flaunting, outrageous, and he was sure that no man could come within sight of her who was not fascinated by her. He drew his breath and then looked away so she could not see the expression on his face. What the devil was the matter with him? Why should he feel this gnawing in his chest, which her words had caused him, for this woman who was nothing to him? He must be off his head. What was he doing here skulking on the high ground when he had work to do?
He stood for a moment then, making a decision which even then he was not sure was right, mounted his horse and rode back in the direction of Falmouth.
When Matthew Golding received an offer of marriage for Rowena from Lord Tregowan, it came in the form of a letter with a red wax seal, brief and to the point. It was brought by Mr Daniel Hathaway, Lord Tregowan’s solicitor in Falmouth, a man who was well known to Matthew. If Matthew agreed to the proposal, Lord Tregowan would call and see him in due course when everything would be put in order, and he would not be ungenerous.
Rowena turned the letter over in disbelief. ‘What? Is that all?’ she murmured incredulously. ‘Lord Tregowan must be very sure of himself to write in such terms. But who is he really? How old? What does he look like? What kind of man is he?’
Matthew was excited, unable to believe their good fortune. ‘Lord Tregowan? He must be back from foreign parts. It’s not every day a lord is admitted into the family. Think of it, Rowena. You could be mistress of Tregowan Hall—Lady Tregowan.’ He preened in his chair, his eyes alight with pleasure at this unexpected good fortune. ‘Very grand. Annie was only saying the other day that there’s been some activity at the house of late and masons have been called in to repair the part that was affected by the fire.’ He looked expectantly at his daughter. ‘What do you say, Rowena? Will you agree to his proposal?’
Casting all melancholy thoughts aside, Rowena desperately tried to sort out in her mind what the best course of action would be to take. She had reached a crossroads, but with only one route to take, a route on which she was being forced. Tobias Searle was going to crucify her father, and it was up to her to see that he didn’t; to do that, rather than be tricked or trapped into an alliance with Mr Searle—such was her attraction to him—she would willingly throw in her lot with this man she had never met.
Rowena stiffened her spine, her eyes hard and resolute. ‘Yes, Father, I will marry Lord Tregowan, and the sooner the better.’
While a handsome, dark-skinned man dived into the water from the Cymbeline and swam in the rippling deep waters of Falmouth harbour, Rowena was on the busy quay to see Jane off on her journey to St Mary’s, the largest of the Scilly Isles, to visit their Aunt Sarah.
Jane wouldn’t be gone for more than a month, but Rowena was going to miss her dreadfully. She was to travel with Mrs Garston, a respectable lady who lived not far from them. She was a Scillonian, whose family had been fishermen for generations and still lived there.
‘You look very serious this morning, Rowena.’ Jane gave her sister a worried look, observing that her eyes lacked their customary lustre. ‘I do hope you’re not feeling the effects of my leaving. It won’t be for long and before you know it I’ll be back.’
Rowena was feeling despondent. ‘I know. I only hope you don’t encounter any of those wretched pirates who constantly prey on honest sailors, kidnap them and carry them off to goodness knows where.’
‘You mustn’t worry. It’s a route the captain regularly takes and I’m sure the Petrel is well armed. And don’t you go marrying Lord Tregowan until I get back, will you? Aunt Sarah will soon be feeling better and when she is I’ll come home immediately.’
‘Make sure you do. I’m going to miss you, Jane, and as for me marrying Lord Tregowan, it will be a solution to all our problems.’
‘It saddens me that you are having to do this, Rowena.’
‘Don’t be. Everything will be all right.’
‘But changed. You don’t have to marry him. You don’t have to marry anybody you don’t want to, and you mustn’t let Father bully you into it.’
‘I’m not, but Lord Tregowan’s proposal is generous—and it is one way of getting rid of the odious Mr Searle and his wretched debt.’ She gave her sister an encouraging smile. ‘Now you’d better get on the ship, Jane, otherwise it will leave without you. Mrs Garston is already on board. I hope you have a good journey and that you come home safe.’
Jane was an emotional young woman. She enfolded Rowena in a tight hug and there were tears in both their eyes. ‘Don’t worry about me. I’m a good sailor, you know that.’
‘Of course you are. Give Aunt Sarah my love.’ Releasing her sister, she stood back and watched her walk across the gangplank and on to the vessel that was to carry her away from Falmouth.
He appeared suddenly, seeming to come from nowhere. His dappled grey horse tossed its fine, noble head and pranced to a halt in front of her as she rode the high ground the day following Jane’s departure—and, out of curiosity, to take an edifying look at Tregowan Hall from afar.
Her mare shied to a halt and reared, pawing the air before landing with a thud and whinnying loudly. For a moment, stunned by her horse’s reaction and bringing it expertly under control, Rowena could only stare at the man in front of her, unprepared for the sudden lurch her heart gave at the sight of the handsome Tobias Searle.
He looked quite splendid in his well-cut clothes, his shirt front snowy and his cloak thrown back over his wide shoulders in a dashing way, his teeth startling against his brown skin. Then, gathering her wits, the memory of what she was being forced to do because of him made her go hot, then cold, with anger and she glared at this incursion of her freedom.
Tobias admired the way she handled her horse—a sleek, graceful, spirited, dangerous beast when crossed—very little difference, it seemed, between the horse and its mistress. Leisurely, his gaze wandered over the lovely face that was frowning with indignation. A faint smile of appreciation twisted the corner of his mouth.
‘Oh, it’s you! I might have known,’ she retorted irately into the mocking blue eyes that gazed back at her.
‘Aye, Rowena, it’s Tobias Searle at your service,’ he murmured with a slight incline of his head, sweeping his hat from his head in gallant haste, revealing his thick dark hair, which gleamed beneath the sun’s rays.
‘Do you have to keep bothering me?’
One eyebrow crawled up his forehead and his smile was almost lecherous. ‘So I bother you, do I, Rowena?’
‘Like a wasp. Do you wish to speak to me, Mr Searle?’ she asked haughtily, her manner implying that, if not, he could take himself off and look sharp about it.
‘I was merely riding my horse when I came upon you by surprise. Now we have met, there is no reason why we can’t be congenial to each other and converse on a matter that will not give offence to either of us.’
‘And what do you suggest? That we should discuss the weather, perhaps, or the latest gossip in Falmouth?’ she retorted, her lips twisting with sarcasm. ‘I cannot think that you and I have common interests, Mr Searle.’
‘I find you to be a more interesting topic, Rowena. Once again I find you courting danger. This track is not meant to be ridden at breakneck speed by a horse controlled by a foolish woman.’
Rowena’s face tightened and she gave him a frigid stare. ‘For your information, I have ridden it many times—so many times, in fact, that I could ride it blindfold. I value my freedom, Mr Searle—the freedom to do as I please—a desire which is sufficiently met up here on the high ground.’