Highwayman Husband. Helen Dickson
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wanted to marry her. He was simply being chivalrous. But Laura was supremely grateful for the way he had leaped to the defence of her reputation to save her from disgrace, which proved how noble he was. She would repay him for his kindness, she vowed. She would be a good wife to him. They were not much alike, yet despite their differences they might deal well together. However, they only had three short days together as man and wife before Lucas had to go to France—and was lost to her.
On Lucas’s demise, at eighteen years old she found herself with the burden of managing servants and trades people, and striving to keep the small estate intact. She found it difficult to understand Cornish people and their way of life, and there were plenty of men and women in and around Roslyn who didn’t like strangers. At first she felt like an interloper, who had invaded a world where she was not welcome. But, being a natural born survivor, she soon found her feet and learned to stand on them.
Fortunately money wasn’t a problem, since Lucas had left her a very wealthy young widow. Upon paying his lawyers in London a visit shortly after his death, she listened with a sense of unreality as she was told of the extent of his wealth. As well as the income from the estate, he had a large fortune invested in stocks and bonds that would take good care of her in the years ahead.
Neither Laura nor Edward spoke until the dark outline of Roslyn Manor came into view. The great house was in harmony with the massive rocks, flanking the sea, on which it stood, proud and defiant, gazing sightlessly over the Channel as it had done for centuries.
The coach stopped at the bottom of a narrow flight of steps leading up to the solid, double oak doors, and when Edward would have got out Laura halted him. Although she was quaking inside, she looked at him with outward calm. She must delay no longer in telling him she would not marry him, and now that the moment of confrontation was at hand she was strangely relieved.
‘Edward, wait. There is something I have to say to you.’
He looked at her sharply, his mind still preoccupied with what had just transpired. ‘What is it?’
Taking a firm grip of herself, she very carefully steadied her voice in an attempt to soften the blow. ‘I cannot marry you,’ she told him quietly. ‘I’m sorry.’
He looked at her as if she had taken leave of her senses. ‘Don’t be ridiculous, Laura. What nonsense is this? Of course we’ll be married, and with respect we should proceed with the arrangements without delay. You’re hysterical and overwrought by what’s happened, that’s all. You’ll feel better in the morning.’
‘I mean it, Edward. It was wrong of me to say I would—and to let the party go ahead tonight. I had misgivings from the start and should have spoken out. I should never have let it go this far.’
‘Then why did you?’
‘I—I don’t know. I was afraid, I suppose.’
‘Afraid, Laura?’ he said harshly, his eyes narrowing. ‘Afraid of what? Me?’
‘No, of course not. I don’t know why. But I feel I have to put a stop to this, to end it now while there is still time. Our betrothal was a mistake.’
‘You don’t know what you’re saying. You’re committed to me.’
‘No, I’m not. I don’t love you, and I know you don’t love me. A betrothal can be broken more easily than a marriage.’
Edward noticed that she was measuring her words, and he began to realise she was not hysterical but perfectly sane, and that she meant what she was saying. His face darkening with anger, his fists so tightly clenched that the knuckles became bloodless, he looked at her hard, resenting her rejection as a personal insult. ‘Have you forgotten that it is what your brother wants—what he expects of you?’
‘My brother will be the first to understand,’ she returned with cool civility. ‘Of course, I will write to your mother and explain.’
‘Now, Laura, be sensible,’ Edward said, trying to gentle his tone to coax her out of this madness. ‘You know the situation.’
‘Yes, I think I do,’ she replied quietly, meeting his gaze squarely. ‘I can understand how disappointed you must be that you won’t be getting the land you have always coveted. In fact, of late, I have come to realise that the land—particularly that adjoining Roslyn Cove—means more to you than I do. I also know why. But you needn’t worry. I shall continue to turn a blind eye to your nocturnal activities, if that’s what’s worrying you.’
His gaze pinned hers. ‘It’s not.’
‘No, I didn’t think so,’ Laura replied, feeling an atmosphere of menace creep into the coach.
‘I do not merely want the land,’ Edward went on impatiently, his wrath growing by the second. ‘Of course I want you, too. You have so much common sense, which is something I have always admired about you. What we have cannot be dismissed in a moment—or, perhaps I should say, by a foolish fancy in a very attractive head. You won’t get a better offer than mine—certainly not here in Cornwall.’
‘I have no wish to marry anyone else.’
Realising he was losing the battle of persuasion, Edward glared across at her. Without warning his attitude changed and he seized her wrist in a painful grasp. He was like a man possessed, simmering with an inner rage he could barely contain, refusing to even contemplate relinquishing the prize he believed he had won. ‘I will not give up,’ he remarked fiercely. ‘I will not be made a fool of by you. I will not be made a laughing stock. You hadn’t even the courage to confess your doubts before tonight. The whole evening was farcical—a pretence.’
‘Please, try to understand, Edward. I have said all I have to say. Our engagement is at an end, and that is my final word,’ she said, wrenching her wrist from his grip, wanting only one thing now and that was to leave him. Removing the betrothal ring from her finger, she gave it to him. ‘I won’t change my mind.’
‘It will not end here, Laura. I will not let it. I am not so easy to be got rid of, as you will find out.’
Laura climbed out of the coach, and Edward took his leave of her in bitter silence, curtly ordering Amos to drive on, with neither a backward glance nor a word of farewell.
As he decided how best to deal with this new turn of events Edward’s senses were heightened sharply by his growing awareness of this menace to his future plans. He cursed Laura Mawgan and every one of her late husband’s ancestors. His hatred of that family was deep-rooted, with festering memories of what he considered to be the stealing of valuable land from the Carlyles by the Mawgans that called aloud for vengeance upon the perpetrators. He would not be swayed from murder if necessary—were it family or friend. He would never allow such compunction or allow any such weakness to deflect him from his purpose.
Shattered by the night’s events, Laura felt an inexplicable heaviness weigh on her heart as she entered Roslyn Manor. When would she see Lucas again? she wondered. Where had he been for the past two years? What had he been doing, and why was it so important that no one should know he was alive and in Cornwall? And why had he taken to the road as a highwayman? She sighed wearily. It was all very confusing. None of it made sense.
The door was opened for her by John Treneer, an aged manservant who had worked for the Mawgans for most of his life. His wife, who was a quiet woman with an air of authority, who made her own rules and to whom Laura had grown close, was the housekeeper at Roslyn Manor and would have been in bed long since.
John was sixty years old, always solemn, inscrutable and silent, and he was finding it increasingly difficult doing his work. But Laura had become extremely fond of him. He had become her friend, a man she could trust implicitly, and she would no more have thought of dispensing with him than she would have thought of burning the house down. When she had lost the man dear to her heart, John had made sure that heart did not turn to stone.
‘You had a pleasant evening, I trust, my lady?’ he asked as she removed her cloak and handed it to him.
‘Very