He had not felt this way since he was a much younger man. He wondered what she would think if she knew the stir she caused in him.
She would probably think he was painfully inexperienced.
But that wasn’t it. He did not react this way to women. He reacted this way exclusively to her.
He focused on the journey to steady his nerves. The Old Well in Curno was the closest inn to Miss Arden’s land—miles nearer than the alehouses in the larger town of Penzance—but getting there required a short ferry ride across the River Senn and a walk along the shore to the village, which looked out across the beach to the fishermen’s day boats.
Adeline insisted on wearing her garlands, inspiring Jasper to entertain her along the way with a story of a fairy princess name Lady Adelina who could sail the seas floating on a raft of wildflowers.
To Adeline’s delight, Miss Arden helped his son spin this tale of enchantment, pausing every so often to embellish the tale with some fact about the mystical powers of the Cornish flora. She was so good with the children that he half forgot she was the infamous Rakess.
But that was uncharitable. Catriona had been hungry in their bed, and a doting mother. The two qualities were not in opposition.
“Shall we walk along the beach instead of along the road?” Miss Arden asked, when the ferry deposited them on the far side of the river. “I know a tidal pool where we might find the most unusual spiny creatures.”
“Spiny creatures?” both children shrieked, Jasper with delight and Adeline with horror.
Miss Arden winked. “Don’t worry. Nothing we can’t outrun.”
Adam swallowed back a chuckle.
He tried to catch her eye, to smile at her and show his gratitude for being kind to his children. But she so assiduously failed to look at him he could only assume she did so on purpose.
He wondered if perhaps some of the fluttery feeling of awareness in his belly was not his alone. If she, too, was moving as if in a haze, half focused on the world around her and half focused on how she might appear to him.
He hoped so.
He knew he shouldn’t, but still, he hoped so.
She led them up the narrow cliffside path that veered toward Curno’s yellow stretch of sand until they reached a jetty, beneath which was a shallow rock pool. Miss Arden showed the children bright yellow seaweed that speckled the rocks and pointed out sponges and tiny crabs that lived in the shallows.
As the children played, she picked up a length of thick, brown seaweed. “Laver,” she said to Marianne. “They make a bread with it in these parts. Have you tried it?”
“No,” his sister said, bending in to smell the leaf. She inclined her head quizzically and took a tiny bite. “Oh, I see. Quite savory. Perhaps I will collect some on the way back and try a recipe with it at home.”
Miss Arden pointed out other local edibles: samphire, delicious boiled and served with butter alongside a piece of fish; and thick, luscious tangles of sea beet, which she told Marianne her cook used to love to serve in winter, when the garden greens had long gone brown and dead.
She was quite pointedly not talking to him, so he tried to imagine her as a child, spending her summers wading these shores. Nowadays her accent bore no trace of Cornwall and her brisk ways were of the London salons where she was known to be a fixture. He marveled at the transformation.
She’d said she was writing her memoirs. He’d be curious to read them. He wanted to know her better.
When they reached the fishing boats, they turned off the beach and walked up to the village. The air around the old public house was redolent of fried fish, reminding him of the inns along the banks of the Thames at home.
The inn was nearly empty. Marianne settled the children at a table while he went up to the bar to order food. Miss Arden came and stood beside him. He could smell her fragrant, flowery perfume cutting through the greasy air as she waited for him to order enough food for a small feast.
“And five half pints of elderflower cordial,” she added, when he’d finished.
“It’s the special here,” she confided, when the publican turned away.
Finally, she spoke just to him. He was so pleased he wanted to dance a jig, but instead he only smiled at her. “Ah, I knew it would be good to have a local lass about.”
She smiled back. “You were kind to invite me.”
“Thank you for spending time with the children. Addie’s enchanted by you.” Not unlike her father.
“Not at all,” Miss Arden said. “Your family makes very pleasant company. Far more so than a quill and paper.”
“I look forward to reading your new book, when it’s published.”
She smiled again, but differently. This was a womanly smile, one he felt directly in his throat. “Oh, I don’t know about that, Mr. Anderson. It will no doubt be far too scandalous for the likes of you.”
He angled his head down and spoke lower. “I’m not so delicate.”
She cocked her head at him and ran her eyes up his torso, lingering on his arms. “No. Perhaps not.”
Gooseflesh prickled on his forearms. He could think of nothing to say in response.
She pursed her lips, like she saw the effect she had and was pleased by it.
Fortunately for him, the publican brought their tray of drinks and handed it to Seraphina, who took it capably and sauntered back to the table.
Adam took a moment to steady himself against the bar.
Wouldn’t do to swoon in front of his family.
“Taste,” Miss Arden was instructing Marianne and the children by the time he reached the table. She leaned over to help Adeline with her cup.
His daughter carefully slurped up a sip, then beamed. “It tastes like flowers!”
“Perfect for Lady Adelina,” Miss Arden laughed. She seemed years younger when she laughed like that, her face crinkling up in joy. “The fairy queen’s elixir.”
“What’s an elister?” Addie asked.
“A potent brew from which to draw strength. ’Tis important for young ladies to be mighty.”
Marianne bit her lip and shot a look at Adam that clearly meant I love this woman.
He gave her a measured smile back, not wanting to convey too much enthusiasm, lest she see his boyish fascination with Miss Arden and worry he might do something rash.
He would not do something rash.
He couldn’t.
“Will we try pasties?” Jasper asked.
“Indeed,” Adam said. “As well as fish and Cornish crab.”
“Crab?” Adeline repeated, looking horrified. “Eat a crab? Like the one on the beach? I liked that little crab. I shan’t eat him.”
“Oh but, Adeline, he is so delicious stewed in butter,” Marianne said, provoking a lively debate on the potential pleasures of dining on sea creatures, a conversation that was as horrifying to Adeline’s mind as it was delightful to Jasper’s.
A maid came from the kitchen with two steaming platters and a basket of golden fish on a pile of paper to sop up the grease.
The children were delighted with the repast, and their cheer, with the shining sun, his family all around him, the merry presence of Miss Arden, made him feel a moment of gratitude, as well as sadness. They had not been so happy in quite some time.
It tugged at him, that he’d let life become so somber.
And it tugged at him that Catriona would miss all this. All the happy little moments as their two babies became people and tried drinks that tasted of flowers and met fascinating people and ate pies with their hands.