Betrayed Countess (Books We Love Historical Romance) (30 page)

* * * *

The tree leaves, burnished in golds and scarlets, fluttered in the September breeze outside the taproom window. Bettina swept the plank floor and stared through the rippled glass, feeling trapped behind walls.

“Don’t you think that man be long gone? You can’t believe he’s still watching for you?” Kerra walked up behind her. “Come into the kitchen and help me peel potatoes.”

“I almost wish he would return, to explain his behavior.” Bettina followed her friend down the hall. “I am bored with being sheltered. I cannot even visit with Everett very long, because we should not be alone together. And you understand why.”

“Aye. Me and Charlie has a terrible time keeping from being too alone together. An’ he don’t understand my change in not wanting to.” Kerra picked up a knife and began to peel. “It be frustrating. But he puts up with it, must love me for sure.”

“Too bad there is not a magic elixir that prevents you from becoming pregnant.” Bettina glanced at Kerra, wishing she hadn’t said that. But her friend acted unperturbed.

“I hear the whores use a sheep bladder to put on the man’s needle.” Kerra dropped a peel on the floor and snorted. “You think it would slip off and fall into other places. An’ how could the man feel anything with that on?”

“No more of this naughty talk.” Bettina’s cheeks heated, but she stifled a laugh. She sliced the knife under the potato’s brown skin with ease, remembering her first clumsy efforts.

The ale brewer’s cart trundled into the courtyard and she watched out the window as Morley rushed to unload two barrels. “If Ann hears us, we will be condemned to burn for all eternity. Sometimes I marvel how she was ever able to produce a child.”

Kerra snickered. “A mystery to me, too. I sure ain’t been laughin’ much lately, with Charlie in mourning an’ all.” She scratched at her nose with the knife tip. “He’s still real upset ’bout his brother’s death. An’ wonderin’ who coulda drubbed him up like that.”

“How is their mother feeling?” Bettina picked up another potato and began to peel. The starchy odor now made her nose itch. It shamed her that she couldn’t muster any sympathy for Stephen’s murder, just a confidence that Everett had no part in it.

“She be a strong woman. But it’s still a shock for her.” Kerra tossed her skinned potato into a pot. “Say, why don’t you come with me to Charlie’s this Saturday? His mamm will be there. She promised to share her family recipe for making pepper cheese and pear puffs. Don’t worry, that man’s half way to Scotland by now, bothering some other wench.”

“That sounds interesting. I would not mind risking such an outing.” Bettina wouldn’t mind drawing the Hunter out. She hated this uncertainty. Also, Kerra didn’t realize the toad
pursued only her. But she and Everett decided to keep the sisters in the dark for now. She dropped another potato into the pot.

“I’ll tell Charlie to meet us afore the moor.” Kerra juggled a potato from hand to hand. “An’ if you bring the pistol, should be safe.”

“Then let us go, I am ready.” Bettina warmed to the idea of freedom.

Maddie strode through the back door with a few crocus plants from her garden.

Kerra immediately proposed her idea.

“Don’t seem smart to me. An’ Mr. Camborne warned you plenty to be careful.” Maddie frowned and laid the plants on the kitchen table.

“I can make my own decisions. I need a day in the fresh air, away from here.” Bettina bristled at the thought of any man dictating her actions. She’d been on her own for too long. “We will be careful. And I have practiced with the pistol.”

“Charlie’s meeting us at the moor.” Kerra turned away from her sister.

“He is, is he?” Maddie scrutinized them both. She began to remove the yellow stigmas from the plants. She used this saffron for her Cornish saffron cake. “If you has to go, at least take Morley with you. He’s almost thirteen, tall enough and handy, if you keep at him. I has worse problems. This dry summer’s made cattle feed low, beef ain’t good and costin’ me dear. Lodgers will hafta to do with fish.”

To Bettina, the prospect of an outing grew more tempting. She was curious as to the Hunter’s whereabouts—and the information he sought about her father—and she refused to let fear rule her.

* * * *

Morley hopped behind Kerra on her borrowed horse, and she and Bettina traveled south out of Sidwell Saturday afternoon. Leaving the coast road, they cut through rolling farmland where Bettina urged her horse into a quick gallop, savoring the fresh breeze on her face and the pungent scent of autumn foliage.

They rode east onto the moor, a flat barren area with patches of rusty grass and heather. The scattered gorse and stunted broom poked out from large stones that slowed their progress. Strange granite outcroppings on the tors loomed in the distance.

“Where is Charlie? Is he not meeting us here?” Bettina asked as she stretched her back and neck, matching the rhythm of Shevall’s stride.

“He’s spendin’ the day with his da, so I didn’t bother him with us. Aye, I tol’ Mads a little fib.” Kerra laughed. She kicked her nag to move faster as Morley clutched her shoulders. “We be all right.”

“You told us both a fib.” Bettina gripped her reins, almost laughing. She’d prove to anyone who might be watching that she wasn’t afraid. Past the moor came a thick wooded area. Despite her brave vow, she stared around at each crackle of leaves and suspected every bush.

In another hour their party reached the Trethewy estate and the little place Charlie farmed next to the larger tenant parcel of his father. Bettina released her breath.

Avis Tremayne, dressed in solemn black, met them at the door of the small cottage. “Welcome, me dears.” Gray eyes twinkling, she crinkled a smile in her sprightly face under a black cap. Her head barely reached Bettina’s shoulder.

The two-room wattle and daub was simply furnished, with a subtle woman’s touch in a jar filled to brimming with pink geraniums placed in the kitchen window. Bettina would have once thought this a shack, but now found such a place charming.

“I’ve made the dough. Kerra, you gather the hot coals about the Dutch oven.” Mrs. Tremayne turned to Bettina. “You, me dear, roll out the pastry.”

Kerra went to the wide hearth and shuffled coal on top and around the large pot. Bettina picked up the rolling pin and flattened out the sticky dough.

Mrs. Tremayne mashed two ripe pears, combined eggs, crumbles of Cornish Pepper cheese, onion and parsley, and spread the mixture over the dough. She shaped the pastry in two long sausages-like rolls; brushing them with egg, the woman dusted poppy seeds over the rolls. Kerra placed the pastry in the oven. A delectable aroma soon filled the room.

“These be mouthwaterin’,” Kerra said when they sampled them several minutes later, sliced hot and crisp from the oven. Bettina agreed as she bit into the sweet, cheesy mixture. Morley was called in from outside to try a slice. He beamed with his mouth full and ran back out.

“Now don’t give up me secret.” Mrs. Tremayne poured them coffee at a bare rickety table. She winked at the girls. “A few old nosies in the village would love to know it.”

“I see how your recipe be finer than the others.” Kerra slurped melted cheese from her fingers. “An’ we keep it to ourselves.”

“You girls learn your cookin’ well. It be warmth to a man’s heart.” Mrs. Tremayne nodded. “That, an’ havin’ babes.” Sadness passed over her face. Kerra averted her gaze.

“I have learned to cook well since coming to England,” Bettina said into the ensuing quiet. “I … was very sorry to learn of Stephen’s death. Thank you for having us here in your time of bereavement, Mrs. Tremayne.” She hoped her words sounded genuine to this sweet woman.

“Aye, poor Stephen. He were a troubled lad. But a mother don’t want to see nothing bad happen to her children, no matter how led astray they be.” The older woman shook her gray head, her eyes moist. “I say prayers every Sunday to St. Piran for me lost boy’s soul. Who coulda been so cruel?”

“Only God knows why such tragedy happens.” Bettina disliked the hollow sound of her words.

They sipped their harsh coffee and spoke on other topics—farm and village news. Then Kerra squeaked back her chair and stood.

“Wish we could stay an’ jaw some more, ma’am, but we promised Maddie we’d be home afore dark.” Kerra tied on her bergere straw hat, a gift from Charlie.

“I insist you take some puffs home with you. Share ’em with your sister.” The old woman wrapped four slices in a cloth and handed it to Kerra. “You were both such dears for comin’.”

“Is Charlie stoppin’ by?” Kerra gave the puffs to Bettina. She walked to the window and rearranged the pink geraniums in the jar. She smiled at her reflection in the wavy glass.

“If he could. He’s been such a comfort to his father. A few uncles be visitin’, too, over at our farm. That’s why I wanted just us women, here.” Mrs. Tremayne minced up behind her, stood on tiptoe and kissed Kerra’s cheek. The woman glanced over at Bettina. “I hope Kerra will soon be part of our family.”

“Let’s find that Morley. Don’t know where he got off to.” Kerra started toward the door, cheeks flushed.

Bettina laughed; her belief that nothing embarrassed Kerra was shattered.

Morley snoozed behind a shed, near the little duck pond to the rear of the house. Kerra roused him with a rude nudge of her foot and they mounted their horses.

“Sure be clouding up, feels like rain,” the boy said as they cantered off. The sky looked like a pewter plate lowering over the trees. A breeze rustled the bushes, carrying a chill.

“Feels like a storm's on the way,” Kerra said. “Maddie will need us to bring in the wash.”

A long, low rumble in the distance confirmed her observation. By the time they were halfway home, the thunder boomed above them and the wind bit at Bettina’s skin. The horses snorted, tossing their heads. She shivered and wished she’d brought her cloak.

Morley jumped off from behind Kerra. “Has a friend near here. Mind if I leave you ladies now? Me mamm wants me to pick up some jellies from his, since I'd be out this way.”

“Climb back on. We can take you to your friend's.” Kerra tried to hang onto her hat flapping in the wind.

“Nay, you better rush along. It's gonna drench in a minute.” He scampered off into the brush like a thin young deer. They heard footsteps crunching away from them.

“Come back here! You be up to mischief, drog maw.” Kerra dug her heels into her horse’s flanks, spurring him forward. Both horses’ nostrils flared, their ears pricked back at the next rumble of thunder. “Fie, can't count on no one.”

“We should go after him.” Bettina started at another thunderclap. She had that distinct creepy feeling of being watched. Her horse followed Kerra’s in the opposite direction.

They hurried their mounts through the woods as the gale rattled branches and leaves above their heads. Almost to the moor, in a small clearing, Bettina’s horse lurched to the right. She jerked in the saddle and the cloth-covered puffs flew out of her grasp. They tumbled down and were swallowed up by the earth.

Bettina grabbed her pommel to steady herself, and stared straight down into what must have been an abandoned well, a dark pit obscured by tall grass. “Kerra, I have lost our puffs.”

A crackling arm of light split across the sky with a boom of thunder right behind. Large drops of rain splashed down on their heads. A few yards beyond sat a forsaken cottage, most of its front wall crumbled to the ground. Kerra pointed, and the two women rode for it. They tethered the horses under a half-toppled overhang and ran inside.

“My, that be a fast one—good to wait it out.” Kerra wrung her hands. She glanced around in the shadows. “What a mess this be. Heard an old widow used to live here, an’ shared it with her goats. Doubt she had many human visitors.”

The gloomy one-room cottage had a high narrow window devoid of glass. The uneven dirt floor was strewn with debris. Rain battered the roof and water leaked in at the corners, the stench of mildew sharp. The wind whistled through the opening and other cracks.

“I am sorry that I lost those puffs. They smelled so delicious. I wanted Maddie to taste one.” Bettina pushed back her dripping chip hat. “I hope we do not have to wait here long.” Her dress damp against her skin, she hugged herself for warmth. She peered around, wary of any spiders or fecal deposits left by former tenants.

When she turned back to her friend, a hulking form blocked the light in the damaged opening.

Chapter Twenty-Two

The Hunter ambled in, his heavy boots sucking across the muddy floor. “Where is the other one?”

Bettina gulped in her breath and staggered back. She tried not to glance toward Kerra, who had recoiled into the shadowed corner to his left. He came to a stop and rotated his massive body, about to discover her hiding place.

“Run, Kerra! Run and bring help!”

Kerra scrambled to her feet. The Hunter reached out an arm, but she dodged and fled through the opening. A moment later, Bettina heard her gallop off.

“No matter. You will not slip away from me this time,
mignonne
,” the man sneered, revealing jagged teeth.