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December 19, 1818
Poughill, Cornwall
Captain Elias Frampton laid a well-used valise at his feet as he stood at the door of the drawing room. This evening he would leave this grand house in Cornwall for the last time. For the past five months, he’d been the man-of-affairs for Baron Pennington’s estate, which had all hinged upon him marrying the old man’s granddaughter, Caroline. However, through no fault of his own, said lady had fallen in love with the Earl of St. Clair. She’d jilted Elias in order to be with the love of her life.
To this day, he didn’t hold that against her.
However, seeing her now under these circumstances had knots of unease forming in his stomach. Softly, he cleared his throat. The earl rose to his feet and brought his wife—Caroline—with him. She quickly mopped at her tears, for her grandfather had left this mortal coil a few days before. The old man had been ailing for a few months, so there’d been ample time to write to Caroline and make certain she’d arrive in time to say her goodbyes.
And for Elias to make other arrangements.
“I’m taking my leave now, Your Ladyship,” he said in a quiet voice. “The mail coach should depart within the hour.”
“Are you certain you won’t stay with us through Twelfth Night,” she asked as she came toward him. Her slightly swollen belly was testament to the fact she expected her first child soon with St. Clair. “It’s not right that you’re traveling so close to Christmastide.”
“It can’t be helped. This is a time for family.” A twinge of envy went through his chest when the earl joined them at the doorway. That could have been his babe on the way had things gone differently. “Once your cousin arrives, I’m sure there are many things you’ll wish to talk with him about since he’s the rightful heir of all this.” He waved a gloved hand to indicate the whole of the estate. “And the funeral has already occurred. There is no reason for me to linger.”
“I would think friendship is a reason.”
Elias sighed before he could recall it. “Caroline.” With a glance at her husband, who watched them both like a hawk ready to sink in its talons, he took one of her hands. “You and I both know why that’s not a good idea.”
She pouted. In her black gown of taffeta with its jet beads, she was no less attractive than she’d been when he’d returned home to Cornwall after being at sea for a couple of years. But when she’d broken their engagement to marry the earl instead, he’d understood. Marrying for love was ultimately better than marrying for convenience or arrangement. “Alan won’t mind if you share Christmastide with us. This place desperately needs life in it at the moment.”
“Oh, I believe he’ll mind exceedingly much,” Elias shot back with a quick glance at the earl. Even though an indulgent smile curved the man’s lips, it didn’t reflect in his expression nor his eyes. “No man should have a rejected beau hanging about so soon after said suitor has been jilted.”
A blush filled her pale cheeks. “There are no hard feelings.”
The earl slipped an arm around her waist, clearly reinforcing his claim on Caroline. As if Elias would challenge him. “Let the captain go, Caro. I’m certain he’s anxious to get on with his life and leave this place in his past.”
“Indeed,” Elias said with a nod. “Your grandfather was a good man and I respected him. But now my tenure here is done. New adventures await.”
“If you’re certain.” She clutched a black lace-edged handkerchief in her hand.
“I am. Thank you.”
She nodded. “Very well.” Then she closed the distance between them and bussed his cheek. Once upon a time he assumed he would have celebrated this holiday as her husband, but that dream was dashed, and he’d stepped aside like a gentleman. “I hope you find love wherever you end up, Elias. You deserve that.”
“I’d rather not think about romance just now. It didn’t treat me kindly the last time around,” he said as he put distance between them before her overprotective husband landed him a facer. He didn’t begrudge the earl the woman, but he was bitter of the deep and abiding love the man shared with Caroline where he’d never had that chance. “I look forward to a quiet Christmastide where I can reflect on my life and where I’d like for it to go.”
“Will you return to the sea?” This came from the earl, which was a surprise, for St. Clair rarely spoke directly to him. Didn’t the man realize he wasn’t a threat to the perfect happiness he shared with Caroline?
“Perhaps, if the mood strikes and the sea calls.” Elias shrugged. “For the moment, I’m not sure where I’ll go. Somewhere in Cornwall, certainly. Or I might find my way to London unless someone in Cornwall is searching for a captain. Who knows what I might find in Town to occupy my time?” Yet the thought of the bustling city or the return to a ship held little appeal at the moment.
“I wish you luck.” The earl extended a hand.
Elias shook it. “Thank you.” He met the other man’s eyes. “Best wishes in your life, for I rather doubt we shall meet again.” There had to be distance between him and his disappointing past.
“No doubt you’re right.” St. Clair glanced at his wife. She peered back, and there was no doubt the two were meant to be together. The love they shared shined through even in a shared look. “However, if you should need assistance or direction—”
“I’ll get on well enough. I usually do,” Elias interrupted. Then he met Caroline’s gaze. His chest tightened again, with envy or jealousy, he couldn’t say. Perhaps it didn’t matter. “Take care of your husband, and never, not for one second, forget how fortunate you are to have found him. True love is quite rare in this world.”
“I never do.” With tears in her eyes, she embraced him once more before pulling away. “Thank you for what you’ve done for me and for my grandfather. At the very least, find something that makes you happy. A man shouldn’t drift about listlessly with no direction.”
“I’ll do my level best.” He grasped the handle of his bag and touched two fingers to the brim of his hat. “Goodbye.” That chapter in his book had firmly closed.
For the first time in a long while, Elias had nothing pressing on his schedule. Neither did he have a firm notion of what he should do. It was both freeing and terrifying.
December 23, 1818
Port Isaac, Cornwall
He’d been on the road for three days. Along the way, the mail coach had picked up passengers, let some off, in a never-ending pattern as the road wound past village after fishing village and the occasional port town. On the third day, a wicked storm blew in from the ocean bringing rain mixed with rare traces of snow and sent inland by the strong cold winter winds. As conditions deteriorated, the mail coach was forced to stop else they lose their way and plunge off into one of the ravines or risk breaking an axle on rocks hidden by the dark or mud.
That was all right with Elias, for by that point, he was the remaining passenger. When he peered out the window through the nasty precipitation, he sighed. Port Isaac was a good as place as any, for he hadn’t a destination in mind. A sharp rap on the coach door preceded the driver appearing in the opening.
“Can’t go further this afternoon, Captain Frampton. We’ll have to make do here.”
Elias nodded. “I understand.”
The driver continued as he slapped the tiny bits of snow from his shoulders and slouch-style hat. “There’s a posting inn just up the road—Brown Hart Inn. Can’t say to their accommodations or vacancies; it’s late in the day, but you can try. Else we’ll bunk down in the stables.”
“Thank you.” A shiver went down his spine. He’d passed nights in worse places than stables in his lifetime, but it was cold and the weather foul, and quite frankly, after everything he didn’t want to keep company with equines. “If you’ll unstrap my trunk, I’ll be on my way.”
“Of course.” The driver disappeared and left the door gaping open. Snowflakes blew about through the darkening skies, and since it was rare enough in Cornwall, Elias wanted to watch it dance in the air.
But there was no time for that. Chilly air seeped inside the coach, and he shivered again. He buttoned his greatcoat and wrapped his worn muffler of black wool about his neck, shoved his hat upon his head, and then disembarked from the temporary shelter of the vehicle. The cold wind tore at his clothing, and he was hard-pressed to keep his hat on his head while holding onto his valise. But he couldn’t help a wry grin. When had Cornwall ever given a calm welcome? It was one of the reasons he adored the area so much.
“Here you go, Captain.” The driver pulled the battered, leather-bound trunk around and dropped it at Elias’ feet. “Once the weather clears, I’ll get back on the road. If you wish to continue your travels, keep an eye out for me.”
“I will. Thank you.” With his valise in one hand and pulling the trunk over the muddy area in front of the inn, he sighed. As he regarded the unassuming structure of hardy brown brick with dark beams as a throwback to Cornwall’s past, he trudged to the door. Pushing it open with the toe of a boot, as soon as he entered the common room, blessed warmth coursed over his person. At least it was shelter, and welcome at that. The buzz of conversation filled the air as well as the rich scents of the evening meal which had just gotten underway. His stomach rumbled in appreciation, and he hoped to God there was a room to let.
As the door slammed closed behind him, Elias made his ponderous way to a scratched and scarred wooden counter. A young woman, past the first and second blushes of youth, served as both innkeeper and bar wench. Though what others would call long in the tooth, she was a taking little thing. Petite, certainly, perhaps nearly a foot shorter than himself with dark brown hair kept in a neat knot at the back of her head. A serviceable dress of drab brown cool graced her rounded frame, partially covered by a dirt-smudged pinafore apron such as maids would wear. What would she look like if she wore vivid colors or rigged herself out in all the usual fripperies a woman should?
But then, she wasn’t of the Quality, so she wouldn’t aspire to those things. The longer he looked at her, the more his mind wandered. If such a woman belonged to him, he would lavish gifts upon her, for every female should feel adored and pampered at least once in her life.
But then, it wasn’t his business, for they were strangers.
When she turned her attention to him, her doe-brown eyes sparkled, a red flush colored her cheeks from her exertions for the inn was quite busy. He flicked his attention to her face. “Hello there, and welcome to the Brown Hart Inn and Tavern.” She offered a stunning smile, and every thought flew out of his head for a few seconds, for it completely transformed her ordinary round face into a visage the Masters would fight over to paint.
“Good evening.” He let his trunk thud to the floor and then set his valise atop it. “I arrived with the mail coach and would like to rent a room.”
“Of course.” She took a large, thick account book from beneath the counter and plopped it between them, easily finding the page she sought. “For the night or an extended stay?” Her melodious voice put him in mind celebrations and cozy evenings while the snow fell outside like it had in his childhood spent in various parts of England.
“Let’s start with the night. If the foul weather passes, I’ll be on my way, but if it doesn’t—or I find that this area and I get on—I’ll linger.” At the present time, all he wanted was a bed, perhaps a tankard of beer, and to rest before a fire’s warmth.
“As you said, there’s a storm raging.” Wind rattled the windows as if to emphasize the point. “All of our rooms are currently spoken for.” She slid a forefinger down the page where two tidy columns had been entered: one containing room numbers and the other the amounts paid for those rooms.
“Ah. I understand.” In some disappointment, Elias glanced about the tavern room. “Then I’ll partake of a short respite here before throwing myself on your mercy to occupy a corner of a stall in your stables.”
“Oh, wait!” She tapped that finger on a line near the bottom of the page. “I have one room left, but it’s small and under the eaves. It’s yours if you’d like it.”
Relief surged over him. “I would. Thank you. I’m entirely too old to bunk down with the livestock, so any room that’s warm and dry sounds delightful.”
Another smiled tugged at the corners of her mouth. The bottom lip was slightly fuller than the top, and she had a singular freckle on the skin near the left side of that upper one. “I’m glad I could save you from such a fate.” When she delved beneath the counter once more, his gaze dropped to her bodice where the slopes of her creamy breasts were on display. A temporary stay at the inn wouldn’t be such a hardship if he could feast his eyes on this woman from time to time. He might have been jilted, but he wasn’t a monk. As she righted herself, a brass key in hand, he met her gaze with a grin. “Shall I show you to the room?”
“I’d like that above all things.”
She handed him the key, and when their fingers brushed, warmth tingled up his arm from the point of contact. “Follow me.”
There wasn’t anything he wanted more in that moment, for she was the first pleasant face he’d seen in days.
“By the by, I’m Miss Everly. My father owns this inn, and I help him with running it,” she said over her shoulder as she led him through the tavern room and into a narrow corridor beyond.
“Glad to make your acquaintance. I’m Captain Frampton.” They went up an equally narrow wooden staircase, past the second level, through a door, down a short corridor and then up another set of stairs. The door opened directly into a room, and just as she said, it was beneath the eaves so he had to bend slightly at one side of the space.
“I’m afraid there isn’t a fireplace in this room.” Apology sat heavy in her voice.
As he passed her into the room, the faint scent of lilacs wafted to his nose. Immediately, he was transported back to his childhood and the village where he’d grown up. Lilac bushes and occupied the hedgerow near their cottage, and he’d always made it a point to bring his aunt a bouquet when they first bloomed. “It matters not. If I wish for heat, I’ll take myself downstairs to the public tavern room and bask before that fire.”
Besides the narrow bed, a low bureau rested beneath the slope of the roof, and in one corner, a stand with a water basin and pitcher waited with a round, cloudy mirror hanging on the wall above. Crammed into the other corner was a privacy screen, the painted silk long since faded. No doubt a chamber pot and other necessities were hidden behind it.
“It is rather an ideal place for reflection,” she said with a nod and another cheerful smile. “My father built the hearth downstairs himself as a younger man.” A wistful sigh escaped her. “We serve breakfast and dinner, eight and six o’clock respectively, and that’s included with your lodging. If you want tea or luncheon or, course beer, it’s an extra charge. Let me or one of the other workers know ahead of time. Our cook will offer a traditional Christmas dinner if you’re here long enough to partake.”
“Thank you.” God but it had been an age since he’d celebrated a proper Christmas. For a good bulk of his recent life, he’d spent his years on the sea. Being on land this time of year was a novelty of sorts, but he wished to mark this year differently, for perhaps it would bring the beginning of a whole new life.
“You may settle your account before you leave. Either I can tally up your expenses, or my father can if he’s about.” Her shrug was an elegant affair, and her tones spoke to gentle breeding. “Have you any questions before I leave you to your own devices?”
Elias moved further into the room while she remained at the door. “I can’t think of any.” He released his hold on the trunk and then dropped his valise on top, then he proceeded to shed his greatcoat, muffler, and top hat. The garments landed on the foot of the bed that had been covered in a quilt that put him in mind of the simple bunk he’d known from his days on the sea. Though it was on the tip of his tongue to ask her to sit with him later in the evening, perhaps after dinner, second guessing kept the words silent. Since Caroline’s rejection, he’d often wondered what he lacked and whether he’d be able to convince a woman he was enough.
“It’s the Christmastide season, so that will give you any welcome you should seek. Due to the weather, there might not be traditional greenery and the like, but we should still find ourselves festive inside. If the weather breaks, it might allow for gathering fir boughs and the like.” Her eyes sparkled with excitement. Obviously, this time of year held a special place in her heart, but why?
It was but one of the many questions he desperately needed answers to.
“I’ll bear that in mind.” A small stack of books on a bedside table caught his attention, and since he was an avid reader whenever the opportunity arose, he couldn’t wait to delve into those pages. The content mattered not.
She nodded and tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “Dinner service is underway, so when you’re ready, come downstairs. I can hear your belly rumbling from here.”
Heat seeped into his neck. “I am rather hungry.”
“Good. Our cook believes in giving hearty portions.”
“I’ll do justice to whatever she makes.” He couldn’t help but grin. Perhaps this unexpected stop wouldn’t be so bad after all. “Ah, Christmas is two days off. Is the storm expected to linger that long?” He’d seen storms in Cornwall before and the weather was unpredictable at best.
“Who can say, but it’s nice to think about.” Her next smile nearly knocked him off his feet from its potency. It made him recall the best times he’d ever spent in his life. How did she manage to do that? “Sometimes a storm makes everything cozy, despite our circumstances.” Then her smile wavered, and sadness clouded her eyes.
“True enough.” Elias nodded. The wind slammed against the small, square window tucked beneath one of the eaves and above the foot of the narrow bed. “Will I see you downstairs during my stay?” He cleared his throat as she gazed at him with speculation and curiosity. “I meant, beyond a serving capacity? Do you enjoy leisure time with your guests?”
“I have no idea what you’ll see, Captain Frampton.” Then, she left the room, her rapid footsteps echoing in the stairway beyond.
And she’d not answered his question. Again, why?
With a sigh, Elias sank onto the bed, glad for a comfortable spot to rest. Logic said he shouldn’t presume to seek her out, but with Christmastide nearly upon him, the thought of having a friend with whom to pass the time took hold to obliterate common sense. It remained to be seen what would occur, but it was nice to think about all the same.