Chapter Twenty-Five

"H ow is it going?" Kit asked, as he and Sam rode down the hill towards the ornamental lake.

Sam, riding slightly behind Kit, couldn't see his face. Which thankfully must mean that Kit couldn't see his, either. This was not a conversation Sam wanted to have face to face. "Tolerably well," he said, unable on the spur of the moment to think of any other way to describe his marriage.

It had been a month since the wedding, and although Sam and Kit had worked together on most days, both had steered clear of the subject until now, as if for some reason it was sacrosanct. Although once, early on, Kit had casually slipped in the awkward question of whether Ysella would be requiring baby George's castoffs in the near future. He'd heaved an audible sigh when Sam had assured him that she wouldn't. Neither of them had been looking at each other then, either. Far too embarrassing a subject with all its awful connotations.

Kit's shoulders stiffened. "I only ask as Ysella seems to be spending an inordinate amount of time at the Abbey." He paused, still not turning around. "More and more every day."

Hot color had flushed Sam's face, but there was nothing he could do to get rid of it. Willpower alone was not sufficient. "I'm sure it's because she likes to spend time with Morvoren and little George. Her mama as well." He could hardly say how much her unwillingness to remain in their own house had been upsetting him. And her apparent unwillingness to be in his company.

Kit shook his head. "Mama has hardly seen her. It's Morvoren who appears to be the center of her interest. And George, of course. They're together most of the day. Now Morvoren is back to full health, she and Ysella have been riding out in the mornings, and in the afternoons they walk in the gardens with little George and Nanny."

Sam fiddled with Hercules's neatly pulled mane. What could he say to that? Having told Ysella she could do as she wished, if she had taken him at his word and decided to spend all day at her old home, then who was he to argue with her? Spending it cooped up in his house, their house, with Mrs. Higgins seemed a poor alternative, even with Martha there, and he was always so busy with the estate. He couldn't be expected to take time away from work entertaining her. Even, that was, if she wanted him to entertain her, which he was fairly sure she didn't. "Um," was the only word that emerged from his mouth.

They'd reached the track that ran around the edge of the lake. Kit turned Abelard left towards the mill. "I've spoken to Morvoren about it."

"You have?"

"Shall we canter?" Without waiting for an answer, Kit applied his legs to his horse's sides and set off along the smooth green sward. Instead of stopping at the mill, he kept on past it, heading slightly downhill and following the bends of the little river towards the village.

Sam urged Hercules after him, pulling up when Kit did at the start of the woodland. Kit brought Abelard in beside Hercules and gave him a long rein so he could stretch his neck and relax. Sam did the same, letting the reins slip through his fingers to the buckle end, carefully not looking at his brother-in-law.

Kit took up the conversation exactly where he'd left off, as if they hadn't had a good gallop in-between whiles. "Morvoren thinks it's being here at Ormonde that's giving Ysella the opportunity not to behave like a wife." He gazed into the distance, perhaps as keen as Sam not to have eye contact. "She thinks that if you and my sister were elsewhere, somewhere new, that Ysella would come round to behaving in a more wifely fashion. She wouldn't have the distractions she has here. She would cease to be a daughter and a sister and become a wife, instead."

Sam bit his lip. Never having had a wife before, nor even a mother, he wasn't at all sure what behaving in a wifely fashion entailed. However, he had surmised that Ysella might not be conforming to it. "Do you want me to leave? Are you giving me my marching orders?"

"Good heavens, no." Kit shook his head with vehemence. "I would never do that. But I do want my sister to make a go of her marriage and have the chance to be as happy as Morvoren and I am. And so far, this doesn't seem to be happening."

Sam sat up a little straighter in the saddle. "Is she so unhappy? That must be my fault."

Kit shook his head. "No, Sam, I don't think it is. Unless you're guilty of giving her too free a rein. You have to remember that this is Ysella we're talking about. Give her as much as half an inch and she'll take a mile. Which is what she's doing at the moment. She's so often at the Abbey that she might as well still be living there, unmarried and still a girl."

"But I want her to be happy."

They'd reached the ford, their horses splashing through it. Ahead lay the village, which ostensibly they were visiting to inspect the tenants' roofs in case they might need rethatching this year. "All very laudable," Kit said, shortening his reins as Abelard snatched at the hedgerow on his left. "But happiness isn't necessarily arrived at through laxity."

"You think I'm being lax with her?"

Kit shrugged. "Possibly." He grinned. "She's very hard to be strict with. Isn't any woman? Although Morvoren would disagree with me on that, in no uncertain terms. But as for Ysella… Many's the time I've set out to be angry with her and had her completely set me about face. She's so contrite and persuasive, it's nigh on impossible to remain angry with her for long."

Sam chewed at his bottom lip. Might Kit be right? Might Ysella be exploiting his good nature and doing exactly what she wanted all the time, to the detriment of their relationship? Carrying on as if she were still just Miss Ysella Carlyon, not Mrs. Beauchamp. "So what is your solution? I'm presuming you have a suggestion to make that doesn't involve me leaving my position here at Ormonde?"

Kit drew rein and finally turned to face Sam, his cheeks a little flushed, perhaps at the personal nature of this conversation. "Well, it doesn't involve you leaving my employ. But it does involve you and Ysella leaving Ormonde. For a while, at least."

"What? Where do you want us to go?"

Kit grinned, as though he were a magician about to perform an impressive theatrical feat. "I would like to send you both down to Carlyon Court in Cornwall. Ysella's only been there a handful of times in her life, as have you. And it's a part of her heritage, as it is mine. She's three-quarters Cornish, don't forget, and the sea is in her blood. I'd like you to take on Carlyon Court and run it and the associated land and farms around it as you see fit. You can have free rein to treat it as your own. I trust you not to make a hash of it, and I think Ysella would find a new start beneficial. You both would. I think the Cornish air and the simple Cornish way of life will suit you both well."

Sam stared. He had indeed only been down to Carlyon Court a few times, but the last visit was still fresh in his mind. He'd chased down to Cornwall as an escort for Morvoren and Ysella as they'd raced to save Kit from the ambush of the revenue men. They'd been only just in time to prevent Kit's death on the beach. Sam had escorted Ysella back to Ormonde almost straightaway, once they'd been certain Kit's arm wound was not too serious, but Morvoren had remained down there until Kit was well enough to travel.

From what he'd seen of Carlyon Court on his infrequent trips with Kit, he remembered a rambling old house with as many new additions tacked onto it as Ormonde, only in a different style. Whereas Ormonde climbed here and there towards the sky, the Court spread out long and low, its gabled roof sunken down over its windows like a thick fringe much in need of a trim.

But he'd liked it, and Kit might well be right. A new start for Ysella and him might be just what was needed. "When do you wish us to leave?"

Kit reached out and patted his arm. "Good man. As soon as possible, I think. Best to get it over with, as I doubt Ysella will be well pleased to leave Morvoren and George. But you can tell her you'll take your horses down with you, if you want. Or buy new ones down there. I don't mind. As I said, I'll leave the purse strings in your capable hands."

Sam grimaced. "I doubt Ysella will go anywhere without Lochinvar."

"Very true. Would you like me to tell her about my decision? I can couch it as a need for your skills down on the surrounding estate. I don't want her feeling as though she's been banished. Not that she doesn't deserve it, of course, after all the trouble she's caused us." He put his hand up to his ear, which still retained the scab from the wound that had taken off a portion of the lobe.

Sam grimaced yet again. "No, I'd best be the one to tell her. I am her husband, after all. I'll follow your lead though and tell her I have no choice… I think. She'll have to accept it then."

*

"You want me to leave Ormonde?" Ysella almost snarled. "You want me to leave Morvoren, who is my dearest friend? And baby George, who changes every day? You want me to leave Mama and Lochinvar and the dogs?"

They'd just had dinner and retired to the drawing room to take tea, and Ysella had been sitting on the chaise longue. As soon as she'd heard what Sam had to say she'd leapt up and was now standing with her skirts dangerously close to the fire, her hands on her hips and her dander up. How dare he take her away from everything she loved. How dare he suggest this.

"It's not my choice," Sam said, eyeing her warily.

She flounced. "You could have said no. Oh, how I hate Kit now." She couldn't bring herself to put it into words, but what lay behind her anger was the fact that after her adventure with Oliver, she'd thought herself home at Ormonde, the only place she felt safe, for good. Marrying Sam had reinforced that feeling, and now horrible Kit had undone all her feelings of safety. "I shan't go."

She eyed Sam to gauge his reaction. He'd been a pushover when she'd started spending more and more time at the Abbey, and she expected him to be now. Gradually, she'd come to take more and more from him, and had been considering suggesting that at least two nights a week could be spent in her old bedroom—alone, of course. That was very much her private territory.

"Well, I'm afraid you're going to have to," Sam said, his calm voice only serving to annoy her more. "Because I have to go where Kit sends me. He's my employer as well as my friend and brother-in-law, and he wants me to work down at Carlyon Court for a while. But he suggested you might want to take Lochinvar with you. I shall be taking Hercules."

Ysella stuck out her lower lip in rebellion, her foot tapping as though she were fighting the impulse to stamp it. "How long for?"

Inspiration seemed to strike Sam and his face brightened. "I don't know, but if we're there in winter I've heard there's good hunting. And beaches to ride along."

Ysella let out a squeal of shock. "Winter? Do you mean we might be down there for months? George will be running about and talking before I see him again."

"Well, perhaps not that long. It's up to Kit, Ysella. I have no say in the matter and nor do you. We are married now and you certainly can't stay here while I go down to Cornwall. That would not be the done thing at all."

Ysella compressed her lips. What was she to do? For once, Sam was standing firmer than he'd ever done in their short month of marriage. How far did she dare push him? "Well, I think I might stay here anyway," she tried. "And pah to whether it's done or not. I'm sure Morvoren will want me to, so I can help with George."

He regarded her out of his gentle gray eyes. "No, Ysella, you won't. You will accompany me down to Cornwall, and run the house. That is what a wife does."

Good heavens. Nonplussed, Ysella was speechless for a moment. Not for long though. "Kit will let me stay here."

Sam shook his head. "He most certainly will not. He particularly asked me to take you with me. He wants the house opening up properly, as no one has lived there full time since he was a child. Your father used to go down every summer, but Kit says he lived in only one or two rooms. He wants you to hire some extra servants and bring the house back to life."

Ysella scowled. "But I know nothing whatsoever about housekeeping." She was scraping the bottom of the proverbial barrel here, as she did know quite a bit, just chose not to admit to it. And Mrs. Higgins had seemed very glad she hadn't tried to interfere with the daily running of Sam's house. If she didn't let anyone know she could do it, they were less likely to ask her to try.

"I'm sure you can learn about it," Sam said, far too kindly, his gray eyes set with annoying firmness and implacability. "It's probably just common sense."

Ysella bridled. "Well, you know for a fact that I have none of that."

"Then it'll be a good opportunity for you to learn some of that at the same time."

She stamped her foot. It had been twitching for a while, and she'd been trying hard to control it, but now she properly stamped it. "What if I refuse to go?" How daring she felt. But he was being rude to her telling her she had to learn about housekeeping and common sense. She had the right to be rude and challenge him. He was only Sam, after all.

"If you should be so unwise as to do that," Sam said, a look in his eyes Ysella had never seen before, "then I'm afraid I should have to put you over my shoulder and carry you down there myself." He paused. "Even if I have to tie you up to do so."

For just a moment, Ysella's stomach twisted at the rather delicious thought of being slung over Sam's shoulder and manhandled all the way down to Cornwall. Then the thought flew away. This was Sam she was talking to, not Oliver, not that she would ever feel like that about that dreadful cad ever again. And yet she'd had that stirring in her most private spot, just as she'd had when Oliver had kissed her and slid his hand inside her bodice. And she'd felt it about Sam. What was the world coming to?

"You would not dare treat me so disrespectfully," she managed, chin tilted upward in defiance.

Sam smiled, and again Ysella experienced that fleeting sensation of excitement as she caught the look in his eyes. "Just you watch me," he said. "Sometimes, Ysella, you behave like a spoiled child. And part of that is my fault. I'll not let it go on. You will do as you're told in this, and prepare to leave tomorrow."