The Runaway Heiress (22 page)

'Indeed.' Aldeborough
agreed yet still seemed preoccupied.

'You can be sure of my discretion
in these matters,' Hedges assured him.

I know.' Aldeborough
roused himself from his distraction and smiled ruefully at Hedges. 'Forgive me.
It has given me much to think about. I would thank you for your efforts on
behalf of my wife. I can guess that working with Torrington was not easy.'

'I am always pleased to be of service, as I was
to your brother and father. If I might say, my lord, it is a pleasure to do
business with one so concerned for the future of the estate. And now, if that
is all, my lord, I will take my leave of you.'

Hedges's departure left Aldeborough with
considerable food for thought, none of it palatable. Whose life was being put
into danger? Was it his, as he had first thought? Or was it Frances? The
accident—or more accurately the murder attempt—at the Chinese Bridge began to
take on an even more sinister quality. For now, it was his choice not to tell
Frances but he must, at all costs, keep a close watch on her movements. She
must certainly not be allowed to ride about the estate unaccompanied. And when
they returned to London... Well, he would meet that problem when it arose. It
was outrageous that Torrington should continue to have such a long reach to
affect Frances even after her marriage and her escape from his grasping
clutches. Aldeborough shrugged off the sense of helplessness that threatened to
darken his mood. They would have to live with the terms of the will, but he
would ensure that she remained in ignorance of the potential danger and so
continue to enjoy her new-found peace of mind.

Deep in thought, Frances
found her inclination leading her into the herb garden. The warm sunshine was
beginning to stir the fragrances that would fill the intimate walled area with
heady pleasure in summer. She had much to think about, so the peaceful
seclusion suited her mood and she knew she was unlikely to be disturbed. She
was an heiress! Her inheritance was not merely an easy competence, but a
fortune beyond her dreams. And hers to settle in the future as she wished. She
had much for which to thank her unknown mother and previous strong-minded
Mortimer ladies. She sat and watched the first bees begin to investigate the
growing lavender spikes, unable to quite accept the facts of her new wealth.
But one fact was startlingly clear. Viscount Torrington had lied and deceived
her, giving her to understand that she would always be dependent on him for her
welfare. And that, she concluded with simple and unassailable logic, was the
reason why he had been so assiduous in planning a marriage between her and his
heir Charles. Many things began to fall into place for her as surely as the
pieces in a mosaic.

It explained, she
realised, why her uncle had been so angry over her marriage, sending Aunt
Cordelia to fetch her back to Torrington Hall, determined to take her home from
London, angry enough to threaten Aldeborough. Her fortune would have solved all
Torrington's financial difficulties overnight. Paid off the mortgages, the
gambling debts, put money back into the failing estate land! What a valuable
asset she had been without even knowing it. And now it was lost to him and
Charles. She had been used and manipulated by the only family she had known—and
they had lost everything on the night Torrington's vicious conduct had finally
driven her to escape in Aldeborough's coach.

And
she had Aldeborough to thank for her rescue. A sensation of warmth and
gratitude spread round her heart, her lips curving into a smile—to be instantly
checked as if a door had slammed in her mind. An icy hand gripped her throat,
her blood running cold. Aldeborough had taken her and marrie d her, but at what
cost? She forced herself to sit, gripping the edge of the stone seat with rigid
fingers, and think calmly. Was this the explanation for the highwaymen? To kill
Aldeborough and leave her a vulnerable widow? Surely it was too cold blooded,
even for Torrington. But if Aldeborough had died, then she would be freed from
this marriage, and what would be more natural than for a young widow to return
to the protection of her family? And that would put her back into their
control. And her money. It could not be! But why not? What would be better,
after a suitable period of mourning, of course, than a second advantageous
marriage to her cousin, who would be delighted to manage her affairs for her.
The pieces fitted seamlessly together. The highwaymen had been paid off to kill
Aldeborough, and Viscount Torrington would reap the benefits.

She
sprang to her feet. Hugh! She must tell him. Warn him. She could not grasp the
enormity of it; that her marriage would have put his life in danger. And she
was the cause. She had reached the wrought-iron gate in the wall when she heard
footsteps approaching through the laurel shrubbery. Her heart lifted. It would
be Hugh coming to find her. She could explain her fears to him.

It
was not Aldeborough. Charles emerged from the laurels, treading purposefully
towards the house, approaching from the stables. He saw her immediately, lifted
a hand in greeting and changed his direction. Frances retreated back into the
herb garden as Charles joined her, gathering her composure round her like a
cloak, banking down the sudden spurt of anger that leapt through her blood.

'Good morning, Charles. I
am surprised to see you here again so soon. Morning visits seem to be becoming
a habit. I do not think that Aldeborough would encourage too close an
acquaintance, all things considered.' She was coolly polite, successfully
masking her anger and resentment, even though her fingers shredded a tuft of
lavender stalks as she spoke.

Charles was unaware. His
face lit with pleasure at the sight of her and his smile held great charm. 'But
Aldeborough does not know that I am here. And besides, I came to see you. I was
sure that
you
would not object. You look
well.' He bowed over her hand with a graceful flourish.

'Why are you here,
Charles?'

'To enquire after your
well being, of course.' A shadow of concern crossed his face and he increased
the pressure on the hand that he had kept under his control. 'We heard about
your accident at the bridge. But I see that you have recovered so I have no
need to be concerned for your health on this occasion.' He paused and allowed
Frances to snatch her hand away. 'If I might presume...it could have been far
more serious, as I'm sure you realise. I am surprised that Aldeborough did not
warn you of the storm damage. Did he not know?'

'Yes, he knew. But only
after I had taken Beeswing to ride across the estate. And he was not to know
where I would ride. What are you suggesting, Charles?' Her chilly tones were at
variance with the spring warmth of the garden around them.

'Why, nothing, dear
Frances. You are very trusting.'

'Why should I not be?'

'Why not, indeed? Of
course, your relationship with your husband is your own affair. But my advice
would be to care. You are, after all, an heiress to a considerable fortune.'

'As I am sure you are
aware. And have been for ever. It surprises me that I was the last person to
know that I worth something in excess of £30,000 a year. Why do you think that
was, Charles?'

His
expression took on a hint of wariness, but he continued to smile and answered
easily with a shake of his head, 'I am delighted for you, Frances. I felt that
I had to come to congratulate you.'

'Why
did my uncle lie to me?' Frances persisted. 'Why did he lead me to believe that
I would come into a small competence that would never be enough to give me
independence or attract an advantageous marriage?'

'I
was not conversant with my father's business dealings with you,' he answered with
an expression of relaxed confidence on his face. 'Perhaps you misunderstood
him. Why should you have worried about financial matters? As your guardian, my
father would have seen it as his duty to take all such burdens from you. You
cannot blame him for that.'

'I
was not treated as an heiress.' Anger licked at her skin as the memories
surfaced. 'I was not presented, I was not given a Season in London, I was not
allowed to take my rightful place in society. I was treated as a poor relation—
indeed, no better than a servant in my aunt's kitchen—with no consideration for
my wishes or my happiness. And as for—' She pressed a hand to her lips and
strove for control. She would not say more.

'Frances,
I am so sorry that you should feel this way.'

'And
could my inheritance have had anything to do with the proposed marriage between
you and me?'

'How
can you value yourself so little? I have always admired you.'

'I
find it difficult to believe. I find it easier to believe that I and my
inheritance would have been safely and quietly married off to you, with no one
the wiser. It is well known that my uncle's finances are in dire straits.'

'Would
you believe me if I told you I love you? You have become so beautiful, so
elegant. How could I not love you?'

'No!'

'But
I do. I always have.'

'So
why have you never spoken of it before now? Why did you never show me any such
affection? Why did you never snatch the whip from your father's hand? How dare
you talk to me of love?'

'I thought you knew of my
regard. It was always under" stood that we would marry when you had
reached your majority. It is entirely my own fault if I did not make my feelings
clear. All I can ask is that you will forgive me.' It was so smooth, so
reasonable, and yet Frances knew in her heart that his words were empty and
insincere.

'It no longer matters,
does it?'

'Come
away with me.' Lines of frustration were etched around his mouth and he
attempted to seize her hands, but once more she thwarted him and stepped back.
'I will always love you.'

'No. I don't believe you. What
nonsense is this? I am married—what can you possibly be suggesting?'

'Are you hoping to find
love in your marriage?' Charles saw his chance, an opportunity to take
advantage of her insecurity. He continued, his tone persuasive, sowing seeds of
a bitter harvest. 'Aldeborough does not care for you. He never wanted it. He
only married you to stop the scandal that he had ruined you after all—for
himself, not for you. It is well known that he keeps a mistress in London. And
he would marry Penelope Vowchurch if he had his way. He always intended to. He
will never give you the love and admiration that I feel for you. Come away with
me.' There was more than a hint of desperation in his voice. An urgency. 'Aldeborough
will agree to a divorce quickly enough if you threaten to cause a scandal and
drag their family name through the mire. And I will marry you.'

'Thank you, dear Charles.'
Frances faced him with deliberate and heavy sarcasm. 'You will be kind enough
to rescue me from a scandal of my own making. You cannot imagine my gratitude.
And Aldeborough is to be sufficiently co-operative to divorce me. I see you
have it all planned, you, of course, will be richer than you could ever have
dreamed.'

The smile disappeared from
Charles's face and a harsh note of injustice crept into his smooth voice. 'My
father was stupid beyond belief to allow you to escape his authority. It has
ruined the family.' He fought for control, turning away from Frances to pace
the path between the scented rosemary and sage. He succeeded in calming his
breathing and returned to her, his face smoothed of his anger and frustration.
His words were calm, reasonable even. 'But you could redeem it. You owe us at
least that.'

'I owe you nothing. I
think you should leave. There is nothing for you here.'

She made to turn away, not
wanting to hear more of his smooth excuses or empty declarations of love, but
his reaction to her words held no hint of the lover. His lips curved
unpleasantly into a sneer and his eyes narrowed. He caught her wrist in a rough
grasp, ignoring her cry of discomfort, refusing to release her.

'I see. I should have
realised. The lure of status and a fortune even larger than your own is very
strong. I had not thought it of you, Frances. Presumably you are not willing to
forfeit your title—it means far more to you than the gift of genuine love.'

'You do not love me,
Charles.' Frances met his eyes with dignity. She would not be intimidated. 'You
never have. If you had, you would have done all in your power to ensure that
your father treated me with care and consideration, not the cruelty and
degradation which was my portion—and of which you must have been aware.

'Perhaps I should warn
you,' she lashed out. "The highwaymen on our journey here have troubled
my thoughts a great deal of late. You knew about them, did you not, Charles?
And it was
not
common knowledge. They were
hired murderers, not interested in theft, but in blood. I find it very
interesting that you should be so well informed.'

'What are you insinuating?
What lies have you been listening to? Is it Aldeborough who has poisoned your
mind against me?'

'Are they lies, Charles?
Who would have most to gain if I were widowed?'

A trace of unease flashed
in his eyes for an instant.

⁴
You have no
proof!'

'Of course not. But if
Aldeborough is harmed in any way I will think that you or my uncle would be
more than a little involved. Do you deny it?'

'Of course I do. This is
mere fantasy, Frances.'

'Possibly. Just like the
depth of love that you have declared for me. I think you should leave. You are
not welcome Aldeborough Priory, Charles. Now, if you will release my wrist.'

She faced him, eyes
blazing. His hand fell away.

'Very well. Since you
reject my offer so cruelly, I will bid you farewell, Frances. I hope you enjoy
your new wealth. But before I leave, I would still wish to fulfil my other objective
in coming here this morning. Despite your accusations and suspicions, it would
be very wrong—petty, even—if I failed in completing my family's obligation to you.'