of her bedroom, looking out at the sea. She could see Sir Ashley leading his horse along the beach. He was alone and looking at the ground.
She had been sitting there thinking ever since he left. The carriage ride and their conversation, which had appeared so light-hearted, had stirred up memories she thought she had managed to bury so deep they could never surface again. But she had been wrong. It wasn’t that she still yearned for Edward as she had at the beginning; she had long ago convinced herself that if he could not love her as she was, red hair and all, he was not worth her anguish. But once that had been accomplished she was left with the humiliation, the whispers, the half-veiled hints that there must be something wrong with her. And everyone avoiding her.
She had learned to live with that, to accept her eccentricity and even exaggerate it, so that no one took any notice of the lone figure striding along the foreshore in fisherman’s boots and a voluminous cloak that billowed out behind her, while the wind whipped her hair up into a fiery tangle. She could, of course, cut it off and wear a wig. Wigs were going out of fashion, but some still wore them. It was what Edward had wanted her to do.
Not only had he expected her to give up her writing, at which she had been successful enough to support her brother, aunt and cousin in comparative comfort since her parents had died and which she enjoyed, he had complained about the colour of her hair. He said his mother was superstitious and maintained red hair was the mark of the devil; if he married a red-haired woman, he would never prosper and a lot more nonsense that made her angrier and angrier, not only with his mother but with him for believing it. ‘If the colour of someone’s hair is so important,’ she had stormed at him, ‘then you had better find someone whose tresses you find more to your taste.’
She had expected him to pacify her and tell her it did not matter, that he loved her for what she was, but he had turned on his heel and left her. She had never seen him again and a little while later she heard he had left the country and his parents were blaming her.
Now Sir Ashley had brought it all back. He had said all the things she had hoped Edward would say, and he had said them in such a caring way, as if he knew she needed that reassurance. Were confirmed bachelors all so pleasant? Had they learned how to please without the need to propose marriage? Could they be friends as he had suggested?
It would be difficult if Ben really did know something about the smugglers or if Nat turned up and he was also involved. Her need to protect her brother and cousin would certainly come between any possible friendship. She would have to be especially careful when dealing with Sir Ashley. And that was a great pity because she liked him. He made her laugh and let her be herself. One day she might even tell him about Philip King. So deep in thought was she, she did not hear her aunt enter the room until she spoke.
‘Philippa, Sir Felix has just sent round to ask us to supper.’
‘I do not feel like going. I am tired and worried about Nat.’
‘I know, dearest, but we must not let anyone see that and as Sir Felix and Sir Ashley have been so accommodating about Ben, I think it behoves us to make the effort. I could not bear it if they changed their minds because we snubbed them.’
Pippa sighed and got up. ‘You are right. I will change my clothes.’
‘Put on something attractive—that green silk with the quilted stomacher enhances your figure, you know. It is your best feature.’ She pulled the gown out of the clothes press as she spoke and shook it out. ‘And try to do something about your hair. I will send Babette in to help you when she has finished with me.’
‘Yes, Aunt,’ she said meekly, beginning to take off the blue wool. ‘But if you think I will put up with Sir Felix mauling me, you are mistaken. He gives me the shivers. I cannot think what he sees in me.’
‘Why, a very attractive young lady when she can put herself out to be so,’ her aunt said. ‘But I was not thinking of Sir Felix particularly.’
‘Sir Ashley!’ Pippa laughed. ‘He is a lifelong bachelor, he told me so. We have decided to be friends.’
‘That is something anyway. Usually you frighten men away with your top-lofty manner.’
‘I am not top lofty. How can I be with a head like mine?’
‘Very easily,’ her aunt said. ‘And I wish you would not adopt it. You do yourself no favours.’
‘It would not work with Sir Ashley in any case. He would laugh at me.’
‘That would be very uncivil of him and I am persuaded he is the epitome of good manners.’
‘And all the more dangerous for that.’
‘What do you mean, dangerous?’
‘He is on the side of law and order. We must be circumspect in what we tell him. If he thinks Ben or Nat are smugglers, he will feel he has to do his duty and hand them over to the law.’
‘They are not. At least I am sure Ben is not. As for Nat, we might find out if he deigned to put in an appearance.’
‘I am worried he might be hurt and unable to come home. I asked Joe to try to find out what has happened to him.’
‘Nathaniel is a grown man. It is up to him what he does, but I wish he had not involved Ben.’
‘You do not know that he did. Oh, Aunt, I wish there was an end to all this smuggling. It is ruining men’s lives. Sir Ashley thinks so, which is why he is so against it. He would like to know who is at the back of it, the men who provide the money for the ships and the cargo. They are the real villains, not the poor inhabitants.’
‘We all know that, but I am sure Ben does not know who they are and can tell Sir Ashley nothing. Now finish dressing. We must not be late. Sir Felix is a stickler for punctuality.’ And with that she left to go to her own toilette.
Pippa dressed slowly. Her stomach was churning, partly on account of Sir Felix who repulsed her and had to be dealt with politely but firmly, and partly on account of Sir Ashley, who was far too perspicacious and far, far too attractive for her comfort.
Babette, her aunt’s maid, arrived in time to help lace up her bodice over the stomacher and to brush her unruly hair into obedience. It took a great many pins, combs, ribbons and powder to achieve it, but she emerged a tall, elegant beauty with a long neck, a full bosom, decorously hidden beneath her corsage, and a small waist from which her full overskirt billowed out, embroidered with pale pink flowers. She rarely wore jewellery, but tonight she fetched out her mother’s emeralds and fastened them about her neck where they lay on her throat, competing with her eyes in their greenness. Her aunt commented, ‘You’ll do', and led the way to their carriage.
Ash, who had returned late to the house, had only just managed to complete his toilette and go down to the drawing room to join his host before the ladies were announced. What he expected to see he was not at all sure, certainly not the vision of loveliness that quite took his breath away. Who would have believed the wild woman could be so tamed? She would turn heads in any drawing room. Politeness dictated he must acknowledge Mrs Whiteside first, which he did with admirable aplomb. Then he turned to Pippa and swept her the bow of a London courtier, putting his foot forwards and circling his arm before lowering it over his extended leg. ‘Miss Kingslake, your obedient slave.’
‘Hmph.’ This from Sir Felix who certainly did not approve of this extravagance.
Pippa, her green eyes sparkling, returned this courtesy with a deep curtsy. ‘Sir Ashley.’ Then she turned and afforded the same to her host. ‘Sir Felix, good evening.’
He bowed and seized her hand to kiss the back of it. ‘Dear lady, you are in looks tonight. One would never guess that you had endured a carriage ride all the way to Wells and back today.’
‘It took no endurance on my part,’ she said, retrieving her hand. ‘Sir Ashley’s carriage is the last word in comfort.’
‘And he has secured Ben’s release,’ Augusta added. ‘We are to fetch him tomorrow, but no doubt