The Fleeing Heiress: A funny flight into love. (21 page)

Mrs. Owen smiled and inclined her head. “This is good
news, indeed. Is it not, Thatcher?”

“Better than I expected,” said Mr. Owen, adding hastily
at his spouse’s swift reproving glance, “I am happy for it, of
course.”

“Now that we have everything so nicely settled, let me offer suggestions for what diversions we can offer to every
one until the weather breaks,” said Mrs. Owen. Her guests
all entered willingly into their hostess’s efforts to amuse
them, most of them relieved that the unpleasantness of the last hour appeared to be over.

Philip and Thomas in particular became quite animated
when the notion of setting up a billiards tournament was set
forth, and they immediately began to devise the rules.

When the opportunity offered, Cardiff drew aside with
Miss Stafford. He looked keenly into her face, searching for
signs of stress and finding none. He had noted long since
how attractive she appeared when attired in a gown from her
own wardrobe, but just then he was more interested in what he might read in her expressive eyes. “Is everything as well
as it appears, Miss Stafford?” he asked quietly.

“Indeed, my lord, it is. I am reconciled to my father and
brothers, and my father is reconciled to the idea of my re
siding with my uncle and aunt,” said Thea. With a twinkle in
her eyes, she said teasingly, “I trust that you are reconciled
to closer intimacy with my family, my lord. I doubt the weather will miraculously turn mellow and allow you to
make good your escape.”

“Let us rather say that I am resigned, Miss Stafford,” said Cardiff with a swift smile. She laughed and moved away at
some demand from her brothers. He watched her, his smile
lingering on his face. He had not changed his opinion. She was a rare young lady, courageous and intelligent and re
silient. He decided that he admired her more than any other lady of his broad acquaintance. At that moment if someone had uttered Miss Cummings’s name, he would have had dif
ficulty bringing the lady’s face into focus.

The next two days were pleasant enough, and if there was
still at times some stiffness between Mr. Stafford and Mr.
Owen, at least it was not open warfare. Thea even entertained hopes that the two elderly gentlemen might eventually come to amicable terms. However, she realized her optimism was such that it led her to look for an end to the
long-standing feud far sooner than it could be reasonably expected. Her aunt had taken Thea into her confidence and
told her niece that the furious disagreement had arisen out of
some investments gone awry and many accusations flying back and forth.

The billiards tournament was a grand success, especially
since it involved even Thea and stretched over several
hours. Mrs. Owen elected to remain a neutral party and
graced the proceedings with her placid presence and ever-
present tatting needles. By the time the winner was declared,
which happened to be Thomas, she had tatted a wide skein
of lace that she announced was her nephew’s prize. Mrs.
Owen bestowed the long piece of lace around Thomas’s
neck with all the solemn pomp attending a medieval tournament of skill, and there was a spontaneous burst of applause.
Thomas reddened with gratification and gave a clumsy but well-meant speech, which engendered laughter and good-natured ribbing from Cardiff and his brother.

The Stafford brothers challenged Lord Cardiff to another round of billiards and he accepted, at once announcing that he was choosing Mr. Stafford for his own partner. At the el
derly gentleman’s surprised reaction, he grinned and with a humorous look in his eyes, said, “I trust you to keep these
two jackanapes in line, sir!”

Mr. Stafford chuckled. “Aye, that I can set myself to do,
my lord!”

“Well! I have seldom participated in or witnessed a bet
ter tournament,” said Mr. Owen, sitting down beside his
wife on a sofa. “But I own, I have had my fill of billiards for
a while.”

“Oh, I completely agree,” said Mrs. Owen placidly.
“However, you need not feel at loose ends, my dear. We
have the backgammon board to while away the time. Thea,
I suspect your uncle would like a rematch.”

“Indeed! You trounced me finely yesterday, but I daresay
I shall give you a lesson today,” declared Mr. Owen.

Thea chuckled. “Why, uncle, I believe you have issued a
challenge!”

Mr. Owen growled that he had and suggested that his
niece set up the board at once. She did so and they took
chairs on opposite sides of a game table. The hours passed by in pleasant conversation, billiards and backgammon.

When the dinner hour came round, the company was in a better humor than on the previous afternoon. From her place seated at the table, Thea looked up and down the expanse of
the snowy white linen that covered the table, and her heart
overflowed with gratitude. She had not dared to hope for
such harmony in such a short time.

“A penny for them.”

Thea turned her head with a quick smile for Lord Cardiff.
Her dark blue eyes sparkled. “My lord! I fear my thoughts are not for sale for such a paltry sum as that!”

“What sum would you take for them, then? For I am will
ing to pay any reasonable amount,” said Cardiff, his own
smile glinting at her.

Thea shook her head and chuckled. “No, I dare not set a
price, for then I would be forced to reveal my thoughts.
What of you, my lord? What price would you set for your
own reflections?”

“An evening listening to you playing the pianoforte
would suffice for any number of my rambling thoughts,”
said Cardiff swiftly.

An unconsciously provocative light entered Thea’s eyes.
Smiling, she said, “Very well, Lord Cardiff! You have
bought your musicale this evening. Now, tell me! What of your thoughts?”

Cardiff’s smile faded as he looked into her lovely face.
“My dear Miss Stafford, if I told you exactly what I was
thinking, it would undoubtedly bring a blush to your charm
ing cheek.”

Thea pinkened, her own imagination supplying a few
interesting possibilities. She lowered her lashes, suddenly
unable to meet the warmth of his lordship’s gaze. “I—I fear
that I am not as intrepid as I had supposed, my lord.”

“Why, Miss Stafford, do you shrink at knowing my
thoughts?” asked Cardiff softly. Beneath the cover of the
table he caught her fingers in his hand. “I was but recalling
the dance we shared.”

Thea blushed even more furiously. She snatched her hand
away, scarcely knowing what to make of Lord Cardiff’s
overture. If he was merely flirting with her, as she half sus
pected, it was very disturbing to her equilibrium. She was
relieved when her brother Philip, seated on the other side of her, addressed her and she could safely turn away from Lord
Cardiff and his unnerving presence.

A few minutes later, however, Philip’s interest was
caught by something his uncle said, and Thea was once
more left to Lord Cardiff’s attentions. She kept her face
averted, at once hoping and dreading that his lordship would
say something else disconcerting to her.

“Forgive me, Miss Stafford. I am used to flirtation and I forgot for a moment that you are not,” said Cardiff quietly.
“My only excuse is that I have grown so comfortable with
you that I felt no awkwardness in indulging in a lighthearted
repartee.”

Thea looked at him and could not help responding with a
smile to his somber expression. “My lord, it is not of such great moment, after all! I am just a foolish miss, and it is I who should beg your pardon!”

“I do not think you foolish at all,” said Cardiff swiftly.
“You are both lovely and intelligent and a man such as I
could easily become intoxicated by your company. You are
blushing again! I meant to do nothing more than explain myself and I have put you out of countenance once more!”

“Perhaps it would be best if we were to change the sub
ject,” said Thea breathlessly. “What should I play on the
pianoforte?”

“I should like to hear that same air again,” murmured Cardiff, with a queer smile playing over his mobile lips.

Thea knew instantly to which piece he was referring. He
did not even need to hum it this time. “You are utterly im
possible, my lord,” retorted Thea with a deliberate frown.
However, her heart was pounding loudly and she could only
regard the remainder of the evening with a happiness
singing through her veins. She would certainly play that par
ticular air again, as many times as Lord Cardiff wished.
Surely he meant something by his request, she thought giddily. Surely he did!

Before morning it had snowed again. It was not a heavy
fall, however, and the sky began to clear. The world was
pristine white, glistening in the morning sun. It looked as though the weather had turned at last and that it would hold,
at least for a day or two. By the time the breakfast covers
had been removed, Cardiff decided that it was time to take his leave of the Owens, however pleasant his visit had be
come.

Cardiff informed his host, with properly expressed regret,
that he had to take his leave that morning. “I fear the
weather may yet take another turn, delaying my return to
London where I have been expected these past several
days,” he said regretfully.

He was surprised by how much he did regret the neces
sity of leaving the manor. Most particularly, he regretted that
he would not be able to enjoy again the same stunning per
formance that he had listened to the previous evening, when
Miss Stafford had consented to entertain the company with another sample of her passionate expertise at the keyboard.
He had once more felt himself transported by her melodies
to some magical plane where passion and music melded
into a whole. Music had always moved him, but never more
so than those instances when Miss Stafford played. He
firmly set aside the train of his thoughts because his host
was responding and he wished to appear civilly interested in
what the gentleman was saying.

“If it came on to snow heavily again, you would be ma
rooned for perhaps another week,” agreed Mr. Owen. “And
though I could wish for nothing better than your continued company, I perfectly understand your desire to meet your
obligations, my lord.”

Mrs. Owens also expressed her regret that Lord Cardiff
could not remain with them longer, but she also said she understood. “We shall miss you, of course, Lord Cardiff. You
have become a very welcome guest.”

“And I have come to count you and Mr. Owen among my
friends,” said Cardiff with an elegant bow.

Mrs. Owen smiled and nodded in acknowledgment of his
lordship’s civil compliment. Privately, she thought that
his lordship’s leave-taking probably had as much to do with
his lack of his own personal servant and clean shirt as it was
with meeting his obligations. However, she was too gracious
to place a guest in an uncomfortable position by taxing him
about such matters. She also believed Lord Cardiff had
grown impatient, once the perceived responsibility he had
felt towards Miss Stafford was relinquished. His lordship
was not unnaturally eager to resume his former unobstructed
journey.

Mrs. Owen had closely observed her niece’s face when
Lord Cardiff announced his intention to leave. She had seen
the instant of dismay in Thea’s expression, which was
swiftly covered by a look of civil interest. It was just as Mrs.
Owen had feared, and she felt every sympathy for her niece. However, she was proud that Thea did not wear her heart on
her sleeve.

Strangely enough, it was Thomas and Philip Stafford
who were the most vocal in their disappointment that Lord Cardiff was leaving. They had come to look upon his lord
ship as a friend. “Perhaps we shall see you again, my lord,” said Philip.

“Yes, and quite soon,” said Thomas, nodding with a sly
grin on his face. His brother kicked him and he yowled,
turning a wounded countenance on Philip.

Their father admonished the young gentlemen for their
wayward manners. Mr. Stafford then turned to Lord Cardiff.
“I cannot thank you enough for what you did for my Thea, my lord,” he said gruffly.

“It was my pleasure, sir,” said Cardiff with an easy smile.

Within an hour of his announcement, Cardiff took leave
of his host and hostess. The Owens had come into the entry
hall to see him off, accompanied by their niece. Mr. Stafford
and his sons were also in attendance, again expressing their regret at Lord Cardiff’s leaving. They tactfully exited so that
Lord Cardiff could express himself more fully to his host
and hostess.

Cardiff did not see any point in delaying his adieus. His
decision had been made and he was not one to procrastinate. Already his lordship’s carriage was at the ready outside. The
butler stood waiting to open the front door.

Cardiff was attired once more in his greatcoat and the beaver was set on his handsome head. Gloves molded his
strong hands. He looked every inch the soldierly gentleman
that he was.

Mr. Owen exchanged a few words with his departing
guest before excusing himself to retire to his study, where
his bailiff was already awaiting him. Mrs. Owen smiled and said all that was civil. Cardiff bowed to his hostess, assuring
her of his gratitude for her hospitality.

He turned then to Miss Stafford and found that the polite
good-bye that he meant to utter had stuck in his throat. Her
beautiful eyes were wide and had darkened with some unreadable emotion. On impulse he said, “Mrs. Owen, may I
be granted the indulgence of a few minutes of privacy with Miss Stafford?”

Mrs. Owen was surprised, but she recovered at once. “Of
course, my lord. The side parlor is free.” With a soft swish
of skirts, she led the way and opened the door. She looked at
her niece’s pallid face and smiled encouragingly. “I have a
letter to write, Thea, so I shall join you in a short while.”

When Lord Cardiff and Thea had entered the room, Mrs.
Owen tactfully withdrew and closed the door behind her so
that the two could be alone.

Cardiff stepped close to Miss Stafford. Looking down
into her raised face, he held out one gloved hand. She put a
trembling hand into his. He lifted her bare fingers to his lips in a lingering salute. His voice was somber as he said, “I did
not want to go without telling you what I could not say in
front of your aunt or the servants. I shall not forget you,
Miss Stafford.”

“Nor I you, my lord,” said Thea in a low voice. She hated
to see him go. It was all she could do to maintain her com
posure. She pressed his fingers hard for a moment. “My
lord, I am so very grateful to you.” It was not really what she
wished to say, but the conventions would not allow her to
say more.

Cardiff smiled down at her. “I am only glad that it has turned out so well.” It was strange. He had reconciled him
self to marrying her, and indeed, had begun to look forwards
to their union, for it was undeniable that Thea Stafford en
gendered passion in him. With the mantle of protection cast
over her by her aunt and uncle, that was no longer to be their
course. He felt a sharp flash of regret.

“Yes,” agreed Thea. The small voice that had questioned
and badgered her ever since she had made the decision to
seek sanctuary with her uncle now fairly shrieked at her
what a mistake she had made in not accepting Lord Cardiff’s
offer. Now it was too late and he was walking out of her life.
“You will be able to finish your business at last and go back
to the army in Spain.”

“Winter bivouac will be very dull after the adventure you and I have shared,” said Cardiff, attempting to speak lightly.
He smiled, inviting her to share in his amusement.

“I suspect that might indeed be true,” said Thea on a
forced laugh. Suddenly she felt that she had to end the
painful interview. “I wish you Godspeed, my lord.”

Cardiff stood looking down at Thea for a long moment.
He seemed to hesitate and his hand tightened almost
painfully round her fingers. Suddenly he dropped his head
and caught her half-parted lips in a swift kiss. He stepped
back, relinquishing his grasp on her hand. Without a word, he touched her cheek briefly with one hand.

Thea stared at him, unmoving, her pulse racing. Her heart
was pounding in her breast. She tried to say something, to express what was in her heart. But she was held spellbound
by the intent expression on his face. She waited for the
words he would utter.

She waited too long.

Lord Cardiff bowed to Thea and then was gone. He
walked swiftly out of the parlor. The butler was waiting for his emergence into the entry hall and opened the front door.
Cardiff hesitated, glancing backwards over his shoulder. No
one came forward out of any of the doors to delay his leav
ing. He told himself that, having already made the rest of his
adieus, there was nothing more to keep him. He strode out
of the manor and down the steps to his carriage.

* * * *

When Mrs. Owen quietly returned to the side parlor, she discovered her niece sitting on a sofa and staring sightlessly
through the frosted window that looked out on the front of
the manor and the graveled drive. “Well, my dear? Is his
lordship gone?”

“Yes, Aunt.”

Thea’s voice was subdued. Mrs. Owen moved further
into the room, her worried gaze fixed on her niece’s averted
profile. “How do you feel, my dear?”

There was a wealth of compassion in Mrs. Owen’s voice, and Thea instinctively responded to it. She looked round at her aunt, huge tears blurring her vision. “Oh, Aunt, I feel dreadful! I said nothing but polite inanities, and now I may
never see him again! Whatever shall I do?”

“I recommend a good cry,” said Mrs. Owen, quickly sitting down beside her niece in a flurry of skirts and wrapping
her arms around the younger woman.

Thea took her aunt’s advice to heart and burst into tears.
It was some time before she recovered her composure enough to withdraw from her aunts’ support. Drying her
eyes and sniffing woefully, Thea said, “I am sorry, ma’am.
Indeed, I do not know what came over me. I do not normally
behave like a watering pot.” All of a sudden, she recalled the
last time she had wept. Lord Cardiff had been the one to
offer her comfort on that occasion. It was an unfortunate
memory because it brought tears again to her eyes.

“Perhaps you would like to go upstairs to your room,”
suggested Mrs. Owen tactfully.

Thea rose at once. “Yes, thank you, Aunt.” She left the
parlor, grateful for the opportunity to hide herself away, and ran upstairs.

Her maid turned a surprised face as Thea precipitously
entered the bedchamber. “You startled me, miss!” Her gaze
sharpened on her mistress’s tear-streaked cheeks.

“I am sorry, Hitchins. Pray leave off whatever it is you
are doing until later. I should like to—to rest for a bit,” said Thea, not looking directly at the maid as she walked over to
the wardrobe and made a pretense of looking through her se
lections of gowns.

“Are you looking for this, miss?”

Thea turned and saw that the maid was holding out a
neatly folded linen square. There was an exquisitely em
broidered monogram in the corner. At once she recognized
it for Lord Cardiff’s handkerchief, which he had lent to her.
“Oh!”

“I washed and ironed it, miss. Perhaps you’ll be needing
it?” There was a wealth of understanding in the maid’s sym
pathetic gaze.

Numbly, Thea took the handkerchief. “Yes, thank you.”

The maid curtsied and left the bedchamber, closing the door softly behind her.

Thea waited only until the door was firmly shut before
she threw herself onto the made-up bed and buried her face in one of the bolsters, Lord Cardiff’s handkerchief clutched in her hand.

An hour or two later, Hitchins quietly reentered the bed
chamber. She approached the bed where her mistress lay un
moving. Even though there had been no response to her entrance, she could tell that her mistress was not asleep. “Miss Thea, your father and your brothers have decided to
take their leave, and Mr. Stafford bade me waken you so that
he could say his good-byes.”

Thea sighed. “Very well, Hitchins. I shall get up.” She sat up, feeling herself to have been racked by the storm of un
happy weeping which she had indulged in. She had fallen
into an exhausted sleep, and now she felt rumpled and
creased and altogether out of sorts. She pushed her hair back
with one hand. Her other hand still clutched Lord Cardiff’s
handkerchief. It was a little worse for wear, being a sodden mass. She slowly opened her fingers and let it drop to the
wrinkled bedcovers. Thea turned her back and slid off of
the bed.