Two days later, Rebecca tried to make sense of the columns of numbers in the borrowed ledgers, but her mind was too muddled to sum figures.
’Twas Daniel’s fault, of course. Blast the charming devil. Even though he hadn’t kissed her, she was still ruined.
She had resolved to keep her distance for her own sanity. To regain some small portion of her equilibrium.
But with dozens of guests in the castle, its hallmark preternatural quiet had been usurped by shouts and voices and laughter.
Rebecca had nothing against those things. She was particularly fond of laughter. But now that the castle had been overtaken, the reality of Daniel’s impending departure weighed down on her like a dense cloud. Once the will was read and the bequests made, he would have no reason to dally in Bocka Morrow.
Only five days remained until he went back to London. Back to his soirées and his convocations. Back to his fast, elegant, busy life three hundred miles away. Once he left, he wouldn’t be back.
Rebecca had learned that lesson already.
She tied a bonnet about her head and shoved her arms into a thick pelisse. If there was nothing for her here in the castle, then it was past time for her to take her search to the village. Someone was bound to fancy her.
She just had to find him.
With a pinch to her cheeks for a spot of much-needed color, she swept out of her bedchamber and down the stairs to the main entryway.
Daniel fell into step beside her before she even reached the front door.
“Where are you going?” he asked.
“Bocka Morrow.”
He frowned. “Shopping for something specific?”
“A husband,” she answered tartly.
“Then I’m coming with you.”
She glared at him.
He glowered back. “I haven’t seen you for two days.”
She arched her brows. “You don’t think a male companion might be a bit superfluous in a husband-hunt?”
“I can’t let you go alone. There are smugglers in those caves.”
“I won’t be alone. I’ve got…” She scanned the corridor for the nearest maid. “Mary! Put a cloak on. We’re taking a walk to the village.”
“Yes’m.” Mary grabbed a parasol and hurried to join her.
“Fine.” Daniel also accepted an umbrella from the butler. “I’m still coming with you.”
“Fine.” Rebecca strode out into the brisk autumn air without waiting for him to escort her. “Make yourself scarce if we come across eligible gentlemen.” She glanced over her shoulder at the maid. “Not you, Mary. You’re my duenna. Stay close, so the natives know what a proper, respectable lady I am.”
Mary nodded.
Daniel lowered his mouth to Rebecca’s ear. “That mouse couldn’t save you from the hiccoughs.”
“Fortunately, I do not suffer from hiccoughs.” She strode toward the drawbridge. “I suffer from an arrogant viscount inexplicably determined to play savior. Or tourist. You’ve never cared about Bocka Morrow before. Why go with me now?”
“I should have gone before. I want to go now. With you. I want to see what I’ve been missing.” He met her eyes, his gaze unreadable. “I have a feeling I’ve lost out on more than I realized.”
She didn’t dignify that with a response. She couldn’t. It hurt too much.
He was right; he’d missed everything. She’d missed him. But it still didn’t matter. He had his world and she had hers. Wishing things were different had never worked for anyone.
“Take my arm,” he commanded.
She slanted him a you-must-be-jesting look.
He opened the umbrella to block a fine mist of ocean-scented raindrops. “Please take my arm. We are just two old friends out on a leisurely promenade along pirate-infested waters, protected by a wisp of a maid who spends most of her life trapped in a haunted castle.”
Rebecca grudgingly curled her fingers about the crook of his arm. “Have you considered writing travel pamphlets?”
He nodded. “Next on the list, if the viscountcy doesn’t work out.”
They settled into a companionable silence, with miles of rolling grass on one side and golden cliffs leading to endless turquoise-blue sea on the other.
Halfway between the castle and the village, they passed an abandoned cottage atop a humble knoll.
Rebecca smiled wistfully. She rather loved that tiny cottage. Close enough to town to be convenient, far enough away to be private. An unparalleled view of the caves and the sea. Marriage to one of the local gentlemen wouldn’t be half bad if it came with peace and a beautiful view.
She gestured toward the hillock. “If I could have had my dowry money outright, I would have let a small room in a house like that one. From here, you can smell the ocean and hear the waves on the beach.”
He turned to her in surprise. “Old Banfield gave you a dowry?”
She shook her head. “The new earl did. He has daughters of his own, so he needs to be rid of me. Five hundred pounds is quite generous. He is letting me decide whether I wish to spend it on a Season, or use it as a dowry.”
Daniel cocked his head. “And you decided dowry.”
“My first choice was independence, but since that wasn’t an option…” She lifted a shoulder. “A Season would be illogical. I cannot compete with younger, wealthier debutantes. I didn’t manage to bring anyone up to scratch when I was their age. Here in Cornwall, at least, a five hundred pound dowry makes me somewhat attractive.”
Daniel stopped walking.
“Everything about you is attractive,” he said fiercely. “Your quick mind, your sharp tongue, your soft hair, your perfect lips. There isn’t a man alive who could spend an hour in your company without falling half in—”
He spun forward and all but marched toward the village in stone-faced silence.
Rebecca’s heart was beating too rapidly to do more than cling to his strong arm and keep her trembling legs moving forward.
“Mary is a terrible chaperone,” he growled when he’d regained his composure. “If I wanted to kiss you, she couldn’t stop me.”
“Mary isn’t in charge of my choices or my actions,” Rebecca replied softly. “I am.”
His jaw tightened. “Then you shouldn’t have let me accompany you.”
She nodded. “I know.”
As they approached the village, Daniel pointed at a painted sign. “Is that a milliner?”
“The only milliner,” she acknowledged. “Right next door to the only modiste.”
“Let me buy you some gowns.” He turned and gazed at her earnestly. “You look beautiful because you can’t help but be beautiful, but if a new wardrobe would make your life easier… It would be my honor to help in any way I can.”
She was tempted. For the teeny, tiny space of a heartbeat, she wanted more than anything to say yes.
Not because she cared what the village gentlemen thought of her. But because she wanted Daniel to see her looking nice. As elegant and refined as the sophisticated ladies he was used to. She didn’t want him to be attracted. She wanted to steal his breath away, the way he’d always stolen hers.
“No,” she said aloud. “I don’t want your money.”
The more she thought about it, the more it sickened her. For how many women had he made a similar offer? Was half of London’s most ravishing ingénues clothed on the viscount’s penny? The last thing she wanted to be was just another name on his list.
He reached for her arm. “Rebecca, listen to me. There’s no one else I’d rather spend my—”
“It’s unnecessary.” She jerked free from his grasp. “I refuse to wed a fool who chooses his bride based on the modishness of her gowns. That’s not a husband I’d want. I intend to marry the first man who wants me for me.”
Daniel stared at her for a long moment.
She stared back defiantly.
“Not the first man,” he muttered and jerked his shoulders back toward the street. “Is that a tavern?”
“The best public house in town.”
“Thank God.” He straightened his hat. “I could use a drink.”
So could she.
Daniel strode up to the bar, where two local gentlemen perched on wooden stools.
Both leaped to their feet and doffed their hats when they caught sight of Rebecca.
“Good day, miss,” said the blond one. “I’m Mr. Harred. How do you do?”
“I’m Mr. Gruger,” said the red-haired gentleman. “May I offer you a drink? Or perhaps nuncheon?”
“I was going to buy her a drink,” Mr. Harred complained. “We haven’t even finished the introductions.”
“Then you should have asked first,” Mr. Gruger said smugly. “Miss? Would you like a glass of wine?”
“I will buy her drinks,” Daniel thundered, his green eyes flashing.
Rebecca folded her arms beneath her breasts in annoyance. If she couldn’t have him, then he bloody well shouldn’t ruin her chances of meeting someone else. She arched a pointed eyebrow in his direction. “You will not purchase a thing.” She smiled at the others. “Lovely to meet you, Mr. Harred, Mr. Gruger. I am Miss Bond and I’m positively famished.”
Both gentlemen glanced over their shoulders at Daniel.
With obvious effort, he waved their concerns away. “Buy her whatever you like. I’m her…guardian. Her protective, all-seeing guardian. Treat her with respect. I’ll be right over here.”
After the briefest of hesitation, Mr. Gruger found a table to share at the opposite end of the tavern from where Daniel was sitting.
Acutely aware of him scowling at them from across the room, Rebecca smiled at the two gentlemen and did her best to be charming. If her smiles were a little wider than usual and her laughs a little louder, surely it had nothing to do with the knowledge that Daniel was grinding his teeth into dust from the effort to keep from hauling her away from the gentlemen and out of the tavern.
Perhaps it was petty of her to be pleased at his suffering. He had caused her far more pain, more times than she could count. If he wanted her for himself, they could end this farce now.
But he didn’t. Not as a wife, anyway. And if it hurt his pride to discover there were men who felt differently—men who were interested in Rebecca with or without a five hundred pound dowry, men wished to buy her meals and get to know her over a glass of wine—then it was a good lesson for both of them.
She’d been shut up in that dark castle for so long that she’d forgotten her own worth. She could find a husband. She did deserve happiness.
From this day forward, she wouldn’t settle for anything less.