A Swain For Miss Penhurst: Unsuitable Suitors

By Ebony Oaten

Caroline Penhurst grows the best turnips in Swain Cove. They are perfect for concealing the smaller items of the town's main trade - smuggled goods. When a handsome stranger wearing the King's uniform arrives on her allotment one rainy morning, it falls to Caroline to discern his true intentions. Constant vigilance has protected the town, and Caroline has no intention of letting her people down. Alas, he's so charming and intriguing, this proves harder than first thought. Caroline's had her heart broken by a man in scarlet before. How can she protect herself from further pain?

 

Jonathan Gubbins is a man on am important mission: To find his contact in Swain Cove and rid himself of ill-gotten goods that are hidden in one of the many caves along the Cornwall coast. One false move could jeopardise an important mission and place innocent lives at risk. He cannot allow himself to be distracted by a woman, even one as intelligent and charming as Caroline.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ebony McKenna
• Release date: May 20, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223452065

Book preview

One

MID OCTOBER, 1815

The ever-present drizzling rain slicked tendrils of mouse-brown hair into Caroline Penhurst’s eyes as she surveyed her abundant turnip crop. They grew safely protected here in the walled kitchen garden. The green tops bounced as each drop of rain landed. Beneath the crinkled fronds, their rounded globes grew deliciously fat. Good eating - or a little light smuggling - lay in these turnips’ futures.

Pulling out a specimen near her feet, Caroline compared it to the size of her closed fist. She smiled. This one would do nicely with slow roasting in dripping. A little sage never went astray either. With her mouth already watering at the thought, she tossed the turnip into an old harvest basket, which was already close to full from her morning’s work.

At this time of year, rain was commonplace and expected. Caroline was glad of her thick felted hat and cloak.

The familiar sounds of the village geese approaching from the road gave her pause. The raucous and often threatening birds were property of Lord Pencarrow, but everyone in Swain Cove accepted them - especially if they left eggs behind on an allotment, as the townsfolk were permitted to keep whatever the geese deposited. If they stayed for a few days, they left behind many eggs and a great deal more than that, which Caroline used for fertilizing her family’s next crop of turnips.

Caroline encouraged the geese to visit, but always made sure she knew where they were, and how many were in the flock. Geese kept bugs off the crops, which was incredibly beneficial. However, they often grew cantankerous if not paid enough respect, and sometimes it was a close-run thing to discern how quickly their moods would turn.

The geese were rather excellent at alerting her to anyone approaching as well. This was especially welcome as she lived on the family farm with only her parents for company; the only girl in a family of brothers who had not yet returned from the strife on the continent.

Politely thanking the geese for their visit, Caroline ripped some of the green tops off the turnips and tossed them towards the powerful birds. They honked and squabbled for the greenest chunks as they set to devouring them.

Good, the geese were distracted, she could safely look away from them for a few minutes.

The next tuber she extracted from the soil had a deep split from the top. This delighted her all the more, as this specimen would be perfect for slicing into. She took off an old family ring from her right hand and slotted it inside the partially formed hiding place. Oh yes. Perfect.

She wiped the dirt off the turnip skin and kissed it, then she placed it lovingly into a basket with similarly ugly, split and blemished produce. These turnips were especially valuable.

A good morning’s work.

A few more green tops to the geese kept them content. With any luck, they would leave her be.

Before making the return to her home, Caroline took some deep breaths and surveyed the dramatic Cornish coast. The waters of Cornwall could be mild and meek one day, unpredictably ferocious the next. Turnips were fine in the rain, but even they drew the line at the ocean salt which thundered up the cliffs. The walls of the garden kept her and the valuable plants safe from the ocean’s salty blasts.

A small group of the bulbous vegetables had sent up tall stalks and run to seed; exactly what Caroline hoped they would do in this protected plot. The few bees around at this time of year could pollinate the bright yellow turnip flowers without being blown off course. The seeds that grew afterwards would be ready for the next sowing, which was several times a year.

In her hand she carried a ceramic jar, which she used to store the small, brown seeds. A lone bee rustled about on fresh yellow petals growing high above a turnip. Caroline smiled. You and me, both working early, she said, as if the bee would respond. She scraped damp hair off her face and tucked it under her hat. It was a useless exercise as the rain kept right on falling and the wind kept whipping her hair about.

The geese struck up a sudden chorus of disapproval. Somebody approached!

There on the other side of the garden wall - it only rose to a height of four feet - stood a man.

A military man.

The geese moved quickly to surround him. Honking furiously, they opened their beaks and hissed, showing a fine row of internal jagged ridges at the backs of their mouths.

To the unwary, they were more ferocious than the hounds of hell. Who was she kidding? Even to the wary, they were horrifying.

The shocked man stood there, his dark brown eyes round in silent panic. He wore no hat, save for some kind of rag wrapped around his