Pengelly's Daughter Read Online Free

me. I had been very foolish to come and even more foolish to speak to him. I would leave him to his hatred. Gathering up my skirts, I began stepping over the gnarled roots. I was almost clear of the tree when his words ripped right through me. ‘Goodbye, Miss Pengelly.’
    I swung round. ‘How d’you know my name?’
    â€˜I asked,’ he replied, his face impassive.
    â€˜What d’you mean you asked?’
    â€˜In Porthruan, I asked the men in the tavern.’
    â€˜What? You just happened to ask who is the lady who runs around at night dressed in breeches?’ I was furious – furious and scared.
    â€˜No, I asked who was the most beautiful woman in Porthruan an’ they all agreed – must be Pengelly’s daughter.’ He was tall, assured, his broad shoulders silhouetted against the blue of the sea, his arms crossed, his head ung back, staring at me with those piercing, blue eyes. ‘They also said you were proud, too clever by half, had a sharp tongue in your head, an’ I’d stand no chance of winning your favour – I’d be wasting my time. Seems no man will ever be good enough for Miss Rosehannon Pengelly.’ His eyes did not waver. But nor did mine.
    â€˜Well they were right,’ I said, inging the rose in the dirt by his feet.

    My head was pounding. I did not have airs and graces. I did not have a sharp tongue. I was educated, certainly, but why should a woman not be educated? And why should I not have opinions? My stomach was tightening with every step. How dare he bandy my name about. What if someone had seen us? What if they were already talking about us in the tavern?
    The air was thick with lassitude as I made my way slowly up the cobbles. Sleeping dogs lay stretched in the shade and only a handful of women sat in their doorways, their lace bobbins, for once, hanging idle. I nodded, even summoning up a smile where necessary, desperately hoping tongues were not already wagging, but at the bend in the road my heart sank – Jimmy Tregony stood holding the reins of a pony and trap.
    Stepping out of our front door was the last man in the world I wanted to see. It was too late, he had seen me and there was to be no escape. I had always disliked William Tregellas, but seeing him now, I hated him. He knew he was in good shape for a man of his years. His well-cut frock coat emphasised the broadness of his shoulders and his breeches, tucked into riding boots despite the heat, must have been chosen to emphasise the slimness of his hips. His silk cravat, mother-of-pearl buttons and silver buckles screamed his ever-increasing wealth, but it had not always been like this. Father would never have approved.
    Mother was wringing her hands. She could barely conceal her panic. ‘Oh, there you are, Rosehannon – Mr Tregellas’s been waiting for nearly half an hour. Have you done all the errands I sent you on?’
    â€˜Yes, Mother, all complete,’ I replied, grasping the excuse she had just handed me.
    Mr Tregellas bowed slowly, his hat barely moving, his pale-grey eyes unblinking, like the grass snake I had been watching in the meadow the day before. ‘Miss Pengelly, you seem unwell.’
    â€˜Yes,’ I replied, relieved to have an excuse to cut short our conversation, ‘this heat’s given me a terrible headache. I need to go indoors to rest.’
    â€˜I can’t think what madness persuaded you to go out in the rst place.’ He kept his eyes on my face though I had long since looked away. ‘We can’t have you falling ill so near to your birthday – not now I’m looking forward to celebrating it with you.’ Mother’s small frame seemed to shrink even further and my unease turned to nausea. I needed to breathe, but the air was hot and stiing. Mr Tregellas saw me sway and held out his hand.
    â€˜I’m ne, thank you, Mr Tregellas,’ I replied,