Page 16 of A Castaway in Cornwall
Laura huffed. “I am only two years older than you are.”
“In numbers, perhaps, but in other ways you are far older.”
Laura could not disagree.
Eseld pushed the candle lamp closer to the man. “Hard to see if he is handsome or not, covered in all those whiskers.” She tilted her head to one side as she studied him. “He has a good nose. Thin and straight. Aristocratic almost. And a very pleasant mouth. See how his lips are fuller at the center?”
Laura had noticed but did not admit it.
“He needs a shave and haircut,” Eseld added.
“Are you offering?”
“Me? Heavens no. I wouldn’t know how. A shame your uncle hasn’t a valet.”
Laura used to cut Uncle Matthew’s hair after her aunt Anne, his first wife, died. So deep in grief he’d been, he had not cared a whit about his appearance or much of anything else. But since he’d remarried, his wife insisted he go to the barber in Black Rock.
“Well, this man will not be going to a barber for the foreseeable future,” Laura said.
“Is he very poorly?”
“If you had asked me yesterday, I would have been hard-pressed to hold out hope, but he seems much improved, thanks to Miss Chegwin and Perran Kent.”
“Did Perry help?”
“Absolutely.”
“Will he be a good doctor, do you think?”
“With experience, a very good doctor, I predict.”
“Then perhaps you should marry him, Laura. It would be perfect, your being a doctor’s daughter and all. That would leave Treeve for me. Perry isn’t as handsome, but he’s twice as clever, which is just as you like.”
Laura reared back her head in surprise but did not argue. She admired intelligence, that was true, but she was not immune to a handsome face.
Eseld looked around the room and took a deep breath. “Well, it certainly livens up the place, having a mysterious man living under our roof. Or would do, if he would hurry and come to his senses. Do you think he is married or single?”
“No way to know.”
“Yes, a pity men don’t wear rings. It would help a girl to know whom to flirt with and whom to ignore.”
Laura chuckled at that.
“Mamm is right about one thing,” Eseld went on. “He looks like a pirate with that dark beard and wild hair. Do you think he might be one, or at least a smuggler?”
“No, I do not. The wreck was a merchant ship from Yarmouth.”
“Perhaps he sneaked on board, killed all the crew, and then ran the ship onto the rocks to cover his crimes.”
“Heaven forbid.” Laura laughed. “What an awful imagination you have.”
“All right. If you don’t like that ... perhaps he is no ordinary sailor or merchant ... but a man in pursuit of the woman he loves.” Her lively eyes brightened with her tale. “He’d met her briefly once. She told him she was a sea captain’s daughter, but she disappeared before he could ask the name of her father’s ship or their home. And now he sails from port to port, just hoping to find her again.”
Laura groaned. “Oh, bother. That is worse than the last.”
“Is it?” Eseld sighed. “Sounds romantic to me.”
“Sounds like a great waste of time to me.”
