Lady Allerton's Wager by Nicola Cornick Page A

you tell me more about the feud?’
    ‘Oh, the feud…’ For a moment, gazing into those dark eyes, Beth was all at sea. She had forgotten all about it. Then she pulled herself together. This was the point of the whole exercise, after all. Somehow she had to persuade Marcus Trevithick of the importance of Fairhaven to her, and becoming distracted by his company was not going to help at all. She pulled her hand away and saw him smile at the gesture.
    ‘I believe that the feud between the Trevithicks and Mostyns dates back to the Civil War, my lord.’ Beth cleared her throat and tried to sound businesslike. ‘The Mostyns were on the side of the King and the Trevithicks were for Parliament. When Sir James Mostyn went into exile with Charles II, the Trevithicks took the chance to steal—I mean to seize—Mostyn land.’
    ‘Steal will do,’ Marcus said lazily. ‘I fear the Trevithicks always were thieves and scoundrels, Lady Allerton! But they prospered as a result!’
    ‘To profit by the misfortune of others is not honourable!’ Beth said hotly. ‘Even worse, at the Restoration, the Mostyns regained a little of their former estate, but the Trevithicks managed to persuade the King of their good faith and were not punished!’
    ‘I can see that you have a very strong sense of fair play, Lady Allerton!’ Marcus observed. ‘Sadly, the way the Trevithicks prospered is the way that fortunes are often made—through double-dealing!’
    Beth looked severe. ‘That is no recommendation, my lord!’
    ‘No, I can see that my ancestry is doing me little service here. I sense that worse is to come as well. Pray continue!’
    Beth glanced at him doubtfully. Although his tone contained its habitual teasing edge, he was looking quite absorbed. She shifted uncomfortably.
    ‘I hope that the tale does not bore you, my lord?’
    ‘Not in the least! I am all attention!’
    Beth realised that this was true. Marcus had loosened his grip on the reins and the horses, very well-behaved thoroughbred bays, were trotting at a decorous pace along the path. All of Marcus’s attentionwas focused on her and as soon as Beth realised it she became acutely aware of the warmth of his regard and the disturbingly intent expression in those dark eyes.
    ‘Well, yes…anyway…For a hundred years the Trevithicks prospered and Mostyns struggled, but they still held Fairhaven Island.’ Beth glared at Marcus, forgetting for a moment that he had not been personally responsible for wresting it from her grandfather. It was easy to fall back into the stories of her childhood, the enthralling tales of Trevithick treachery. ‘Then my grandfather inherited the estate and came up against your grandfather, my lord, the fifth Earl, George Trevithick.’
    ‘Ah, the Evil Earl. I have heard much of his exploits. They say that in his youth he was in league with the wreckers and the smugglers and the pirates and anyone who could help him make an illegal profit.’
    ‘I have no doubt. What is certainly true is that our grandfathers were implacable enemies, my lord, and had sworn to take their fight to the death. One stormy March night my grandfather was sailing for Fairhaven, not knowing that the Earl had already landed there and that the wreckers were waiting for him. There was a gale blowing and in the dark my grandfather did not realise that the shore lights were not placed there by his servants but were a trick of the enemy.’ Beth took a deep breath. ‘His ship ran aground and all hands were lost, along with the chest of treasure the ship had been carrying. My grandfather was the only one to escape ashore, but he was ambushed by the Evil Earl and cut down in the fight. Then the Earl stole his sword, the Sword ofSaintonge, that had been in the family for centuries, and took the island into the bargain! Now, what do you think of that, my lord?’
    Beth finished, out of breath, and looked at Marcus expectantly. It was a tale for a dark, stormy night rather than a