Surrender The Night (28 page)

Katrina saw his nose quiver at the scent. His palate was probably used to caviar and Dover sole. Pilchards were considered a delicacy by Cornwall’s poor, but it was obvious Devon didn’t agree. It would be interesting indeed to see if he could get half the serving down. “Pies are infinite in their varieties, you know. We make them out of meat as well as fish. One of my favorites is muggety pie.” She waited until he’d taken a cautious bite. His throat worked, and she could see he was trying not to gag. “It’s made from sheep entrails flavored with spices and cream.”

He chewed once, then gulped. “How . . . delectable.” He seemed a bit pale, but he scooped up another bite with his spoon. He sent her a pleading glance. Katrina allowed herself a small smile, but desisted.

Jimmy had been glancing between the pair. He wolfed down a couple of bites of pilchards, then said reflectively, “I think my favorite pie of all, Ma, was that one you made with my find on the beach that time when I was ten.”

Rachel smiled. ‘ ‘Ais, that was a good one. Some think eel don’t maake a good paasty, but I thenk they do.”

“Eel?” Katrina repeated. She took a dainty bite of her own fish. She’d long since learned to like the heavy flavor, but the smell sometimes bothered her still. “I’ve not heard this story.”

“I found a big conger eel on the beach and brought it home to Ma,” Jimmy explained. Katrina noticed that John shook his head and made a hushing sound, but Jimmy concluded, “I never did tell you why it was so bloated. There’d been a shipwreck, you see. And the fellow had been so greedy that he couldn’t slither away when I caught him. Never did find all the pieces to those bodies.” He savored his last bite of fish, looking around innocently when everyone at the table, except John, gagged.

Katrina went a bit green and put down her spoon. She shared a look with Devon that called up memories of Yorkshire pudding and roast round of beef. For the first time in ages she felt homesick for England east of the Tamar. They did have some things in common, she thought with a jolt. He saw that knowledge in her eyes, she knew. She hastily averted her gaze and moved her hand when he tried to clasp it.

Rachel said in disgust, ‘‘I’d not have cooked et had I known that.”

“You promesed not to tell, boy,” John growled at his son. “Now you’ve put us all off our food.”

“Good. That leaves more for me.” Jimmy reached for the serving spoon, but John slapped his hand away. “Not until we’ve offered more to our guests.” He glanced inquiringly at Billy, who shook his head, then at Devon.

“No, thank you, Mr. Tonkin,” Devon said. “This is plenty. Might I have a dram to wash it down with?”

“Of course.” John rose to go to the pantry. He brought back a jug of home-brewed ale, which, since he was a strict Methodist, was the only brew he’d partake of. Katrina knew how he’d been hoarding this last bottle. But he took down one of Rachel’s good china cups from its peg above the cupboard and poured a hefty draft, then did the same in two more cups.

“Me too, Da,” Jimmy said, licking his lips. John hesitated, then he poured half a cup for his son.

Ellie rose to help him bring the cups to the table. She gave Billy his cup and blushed when he whispered something to her. John paused in midstride on his way back to the table. Only when Ellie had taken her seat again did he come forward. He sent a glare at Billy as he sat down.

After Devon had taken a careful sip, John asked, “What do ’ee thenk? I maade et myself.”

“It’s quite good,” Devon said in a way Katrina knew was sincere.

John raised an eyebrow at Devon’s half-full plate. Devon sighed slightly and picked up his spoon. John glanced at his wife. ‘ ‘Where’s your manners, Ma? Give his lordship a bet to bread his basen weth.” Katrina froze and lifted her head.

Rachel hesitated, then stood and went to the cupboard. She unwrapped and brought to the table two small barley cakes. They were insignificant-looking things, but Katrina’s mouth watered. They were their last, she knew. Rachel had been saving them for the Sunday meal.

“Thank you kindly,” Devon said, taking one cake and passing the other to Billy. Both men began to crumble the cakes into their plates.

An odd silence descended as they realized they were being stared at. Devon looked about. Everyone hastily averted their eyes to thei
r plates. Everyone except little Robert, who was too young for subterfuge. He stared hungrily at Devon’s halfcrumbled cake, and even licked his lips.

An appalled expression settled over Devon. Then, like the lord he was, he tactfully handled an awkward situation. “Here, lad, share this with me. I’m full, anyway.” Devon leaned across the table to put the rest of the cake upon Robert’s plate.

Robert sent his mother an inquiring look. When she nodded, he gobbled up the cake in one bite. Billy, without a word, put the rest of his cake on Ellie’s plate.

Katrina couldn’t resist it; she leaned forward to see past Devon. John was staring thoughtfully at his guest. When he met her eyes, he smiled as if to say, He’s not a bad sort, after all. Katrina’s heart felt lighter than it had in many a moon as she ate the last of her fish.

She felt Devon’s look and slowly lifted her head to meet it. She couldn’t stop the soft smile she sent him; for once she didn’t try. Even when his eyes began to dance with those gold sparks, she couldn’t look away. She felt bathed in light rather than singed, and every feeling she’d worked two years to subdue rose eagerly to revel in that warmth. . . .

Chapter Nine

After dinner, Katrina
rose to help Rachel with the dishes, as usual. However, to her amazement, Devon took the plates from her and carried them to the sideboard. She was still staring at him when he returned to the table to pick up the empty serving dishes. He gently closed her mouth with the tip of his finger.

“Earls are not incompetent, you know,” he teased, stacking the soup crock on top of the platter.

“I wonder if your servants would agree,’ ’ Katrina responded dryly, joining Rachel at the sideboard to help wash the dishes. But she gave Devon a grateful glance when he set the crockery beside her.

Meanwhile, Ellie wiped off the table, but when she came to Billy’s end, her smooth movements became jerky as she leaned across to clean his place. They each reached at once to move his mug of ale, but Billy’s eyes were fixed on her full bosom, and hers were steadfast on the rag in her hand. Their grips clashed and knocked the cup over, spilling the dregs of the ale into Billy’s lap.

He made a strangled sound and half rose, catching everyone’s attention. Ellie gasped and automatically reached out to swipe up the stain, then froze and went beet red. Devon, from his position next to Katrina, made a funny noise that sounded remarkably like a stifled laugh. Katrina shook her head at him and moved forward to hand Billy the towel she was using to wipe the dishes with.

He took it with a grateful smile. After he’d wiped up the front of his breeches, he
murmured to Ellie, “There, lass, there’s no need to be embarrassed. It’s just as much my fault. I was, er, distracted.” His wink left no doubt as to how attractive that distraction had been. His mobile mouth curved

into a smile that gave his irregular features a stunning magnetism.

When Ellie smiled back at him, her pretty face alight with pleasure at the compliment, John called sharply from his position by the fire, “Come here, Ellie, and light my pipe.”

Ellie glared at her father, but she tossed her cloth down and obeyed, then sat next to him. Billy levered his long legs over the bench and moved to join them, but Katrina took one look at John’s set face and elbowed Devon in the ribs.

“Go sit next to Ellie,” she hissed.

“You might as well try to stop the tide as to keep Billy from pursuing a women he wants,” he whispered back, staying put.

“Like master like servant, I see.”

‘ ‘No, like two friends who have known each other since they were in short coats together,” he flung back. He strode aggressively to the bench and sat down on John’s other side, directly next to the fire. Billy had already sat next to Ellie and begun to converse with her in a low, intimate tone.

Devon addressed John. “Mr. Tonkin, I understand you’re a mine captain.
...”
Courtesy forced John to turn to his guest. Billy took full advantage of Devon’s diversion and leaned closer to whisper in Ellie’s ear.

‘ ‘My own mine captain tells me that our profits aren’t likely to improve as long as we have to smelt our ores abroad,” Devon said, tilting an inquiring brow at John. “Do you agree?”

John sighed. “’Tes partly true. Those rascally smelters in Bristol and Waales have done all they can to monopolize and offer mine adventurers whatever price they agree upon— leaven’ them weth a profit ten times what we maake. But weth the price of coal, and consederen’ how far we have to transport it, starten’ our own smelter here esn’t a practecal idea. The Hayle works barely survived, and ’twas dangerous for workers there. Besides, most miners hereabouts prefer to work, on agreement and get paid based on profets. We’ll have no werking man slavery here in Redruth.” John looked grimly determined about that. He glanced at his daughter, who was smiling at Billy, but Devon interrupted again.

‘ ‘And what do you think of the Anglesey mines? Is their ore quality as poor as rumored?’ ’

“Ais, our entire endustry es sufferen’ ’cause of the greed of Thomas Williams of Anglesey. He wants to ruin Comish copper-mining enterests and es en a fair way of doen’ so by dumpin’ so much ore on the market.” John crossed his arms over his chest and said hardily, “But I tell ’ee thes: He’s already overproducen’ and the , veins he can exploit by the open-cast method, whech es cheap, well be exhausted soon. No, I fear the real threat to our endustry es the cost of fuel and the expense of engines powerful enough to pump at the deeper and deeper levels we need to work.” John looked as if he might be about to say something, but he snapped his mouth closed.

Katrina, who had been listening as she helped Rachel with the dishes, had no such loyalty to Carrington. Drying a plate, she turned to look at Devon. He was, after all, apparently good friends with Carrington. . . . “A concern John has expressed many times to Lord Carrington, but he won’t approach the other shareholders about purchasing a new engine system. Too expensive, he says. Production doesn’t warrant it since the mine is so old and no new veins have been discovered in so long.” She turned to stack the plate on top of the others, leaving Devon looking thoughtful.

‘ ‘And I know the ores are there, rich enough to be viable, even so low.” John smacked one frustrated fist against the other. “I’ve worked the mines all my life, but all the adits we’ve dug have done all they can to aid weth drainage. Only one of the new engines by Watt will help us find new veins.”

“Which are extremely expensive, of course,” Devon in
serted.

‘ ‘Aye, but weth his separate condenser engine, the saven’ en fuel more than makes up for his high premiums.”

“I see,” Devon said. He opened his mouth to ask another question, but John went first.

“Now, that’s enough of work. ’Ee should talk to your own mine captain.” John peered around Billy’s bulk at his daugh
ter. “Ellie, why don’t ’ee taake your brother upstairs and put hem to bed?”

Ellie, it seemed, didn’t hear. Or if she did, she ignored her father. Robert was playing happily in the co
rner with the toy soldiers Jimmy had carved for him, in any case. Katrina glanced over her shoulder at Billy. The look in his eyes was one she’d often seen in Devon’s. When she looked at Ellie, unfortunately, she also recognized her expression. She bit her lip over a sharp comment to back up John, dried the last plate, and stacked it on top of the others with a clatter that earned her a pained glance from Rachel. Katrina gave her an apologetic look, took the plates, and stood on her tiptoes to set them in their place in the top of the cupboard. Why was Devon abetting Billy’s flirtation? Didn’t he realize that Ellie would never be happy anywhere but in Cornwall? If not, she’d have to set him right, quickly, before John did so less diplomatically.

She was unaware that as she strained upward Devon’s gaze wandered from John’s face, fastening on the slim ankles peeking beneath Katrina’s dress. Katrina caught his glance when she turned. His eyes lifted to hers. Katrina unconsciously licked her lips; she had no idea how much she resembled a cat looking at a bowlful of cream.

John did. His eyes sharpened. He looked from Devon, to Billy, who was still whispering to Ellie. She gurgled a soft laugh.

“We’ve foxes loose in the henhouse, Ma,” he rumbled.

Rachel dried her hands on a rag, peering from Ellie to Katrina and back again. She slapped the rag down on the sideboard so hard that she caught Devon and Billy’s attention.

‘ ‘And wh
at do you suggest we do about it Da?’ ’ Both of her guests shifted nervously under her stern blue eyes.

“We could try bolten’ the door, but the hens seem to like the smell of the fox. Or should I say foxes?” John folded his arms over his chest with a challenging air.

“Ellie, I think we’ve both just been called hen-witted,” Katrina said, her mouth curled in rueful amusement. She sent a last wistful look at Devon, then went to take her friend’s arm. “We’d best retire, since tomorrow is wash day.”

‘ ‘The fox would like a word with the hen before she ruffles her feathers too much.” Devon’s smile deliberately showed too many teeth, and Katrina knew he was goading John.

“That’s all right, John.” Katrina patted his arm when he made to rise. ‘ ‘After your timely reminder my wits are firmly about me again.” She cocked her head to one side as she studied Devon. “He does have a red cast to his fur, er, hair, doesn’t he?”