His Scandalous Kiss: Secrets at Thorncliff Manor: 6 (19 page)

Dressed in a green, beautifully tailored, jacket, with beige-colored breeches and expensive looking boots, he was the very
image of a well-bred gentleman. His hair had been neatly combed; his sparkling eyes the focal point of his face—a complete
distraction from the pink skin that puckered over his left cheek and down the side of his neck. To Mary, he had never looked
more handsome than at that very moment.

“Allow me to introduce myself,” he said, addressing Mary’s aunt as he bowed slightly from the waist. “My name is Richard Heartly.
It is an absolute pleasure to make your acquaintance, Lady Foxworth.”

The tension in Lady Foxworth’s expression eased, replaced by something that could only be described as complete and utter
surprise. “You are Lord Oakland’s younger son?”

“The very one,” Richard said as he stepped further into the room. Still standing, he waited for Lady Duncaster to considerately
claim the seat beside Lady Foxworth so he could sit down next to Mary.

“But you are supposed to be dead!” Lady Foxworth blurted. With a jolt, her eyes widened and she immediately placed her hand
over her mouth. “Forgive me, I did not mean . . . that is to say, I—”

“It is quite all right,” Richard said. “I wanted it that way.” He turned the left side of his face toward her. “As you can
probably imagine, I was not very eager to make a public appearance. If news of my return to England had spread, I would have
had to do so in order to save my family the embarrassment of having to explain my constant absence from social events.”

“Because of the scars?” Lady Foxworth quietly asked. “They are not really all that bad.”

“A fact that your niece has eventually convinced me of.” He reached for Mary’s hand, the warmth of him weaving its way through
her. “Her kindness toward me and her ability to care for the person that I am without being influenced by my appearance, has
given me a tremendous amount of hope for the future.”

“I still find it difficult to agree with your method,” Lady Foxworth said, her voice tightening a notch. “After all, you refused
to reassure me of your credentials when I asked you to do so. Furthermore, I have just received a letter this morning from
the Earl of Rotridge, informing me that you and Mary have been cavorting with each other for the past two weeks. If you were
a gentleman—”

“I hope you are not calling my character into question,” Richard said, edging forward in his seat.

“What I am saying,” Lady Foxworth continued, not the least bit deterred by the note of warning in Richard’s voice, “is that
you have deliberately put my niece’s reputation at risk on numerous occasions, which is hardly very gentlemanly of you.”

Mary held her breath while Richard stared back at her aunt. If only she could dive under the carpet, but unfortunately, that
was not a possibility. She looked to Lady Duncaster instead, who in turn appeared remarkably calm—as if she knew that this
situation would resolve itself to everyone’s liking. Mary could only hope that this would be the case.

“Point taken,” Richard eventually conceded. “But I saw no other way in which to get to know her better. As our acquaintance
with each other turned into a solid friendship and something . . . more promising than that, it became increasingly impossible
for me to imagine a day without Mary by my side.”

Mary’s heart swelled until it felt as though it might actually burst. Her eyes misted and a tight knot began forming in her
throat.

“With your permission,” Richard continued, “I would like to ask for her hand in marriage.”

Mary knew her aunt well enough to see that she was pleased by this outcome, even if she tried not to show it, her expression
as serious as ever as she met Richard’s gaze. “A former soldier who has fought bravely for his country is certainly a quality
that I cannot help but admire. Especially considering the price you had to pay for it.” She paused a moment, seemingly considering
her next words. “That said, however, I would like to know how you plan on supporting her. To be blunt, what is your financial
situation like?”

Mary gasped. “Aunt! You cannot . . .” Lady Foxworth gave her a quelling look that forced Mary’s words into silence.

“Commonality is all well and good when choosing your life-partner, Mary,” Lady Foxworth said, “But there is the business side
to it that should not be ignored.”

“She is right,” Richard said, briefly offering Mary a reassuring smile before returning his full attention to Lady Foxworth.
“May I be equally blunt?”

“By all means,” Lady Foxworth said. “I encourage you to do so.”

“Very well then. As Mary is already aware, I have made some lucrative investments over the last few years. As a result, I
currently have an income of ten thousand pounds per year. In addition to that, I have recently acquired an estate which I
am sure will meet your expectations. All in all, I would say that my net worth at the moment is somewhere in the vicinity
of one hundred and fifty thousand pounds.”

Mary’s jaw dropped, as did her aunt’s. Lady Duncaster on the other hand looked very pleased—as if she’d known all along just
how eligible Richard Heartly actually was. Which, Mary realized, she probably had.

Gathering her composure, Lady Foxworth reached for her teacup and took a sip before saying, “That sounds like a very comfortable
number.”

Mary almost choked. But before she could manage an apology on behalf of her aunt, the lady surprised Mary again by saying,
“My only remaining question now is whether or not you love her.”

Surely there had to be a window through which Mary could escape? Looking around, she saw that they were all firmly shut. But
all plans of vaulting over a windowsill and running until her feet could no longer carry her, fled from her mind the moment
Richard voiced his response. He gave no lengthy explanation and made no use of flowery prose. All he said was, “Of course
I do.”

At which point Mary promptly burst into tears, which of course was silly. After all, today had just turned into the most wonderful
day of her life. “I love you too,” she croaked out while dabbing at her eyes with the handkerchief that Richard offered her.

“In that case, I see no reason why the two of you should not be together,” Lady Foxworth said. “If that is what you want,
Mary.”

“With all my heart,” Mary managed.

“Well then.” Lady Foxworth’s voice sounded a little more raw than before. “On behalf of Mary’s parents, the Earl and Countess
of Harrodsburg, you have my blessing.”

The moment the words were out, Richard slipped off the sofa and onto one knee. He took both of Mary’s hands in his and smiled
up at her with all the love that he’d just professed. “Mary Bourneville, will you do me the honor of making me the most fortunate
man in the world by becoming my wife?”

Swallowing the knot in her throat, she nodded her agreement, sniffing a little until she finally managed to get the necessary
words out. “Yes,” she whispered. “Nothing would please me more.”

Leaning forward, he placed a kiss upon her lips before catching her in his arms and pulling her to her feet so he could embrace
her properly. It wasn’t until Mary heard Lady Duncaster whisper something to her aunt that she remembered they weren’t alone.

“We will have more time for this later,” Richard murmured close to her ear before stepping back and adding a respectful amount
of distance between them.

The words sent a tremor down Mary’s spine, her cheeks grew warm and for a frightening moment she feared that her legs might
collapse beneath her. So she sat down quickly and busied herself with pouring tea into cups and arranging sweetmeats on plates
which she then offered to everyone in turn.

“Thank you,” Lady Duncaster said, setting her plate aside, “but I am afraid that I must leave you now. I promised the butler
that I would go over the social activities for the coming week with him. Do let me know if you would like to make a formal
announcement this evening and I will ensure that enough champagne is put on ice.”

As soon as she was gone, Richard returned to his seat beside Mary and addressed Lady Foxworth. “There is something else that
you ought to know,” he said as he reached for Mary’s hand once more. Turning to Mary, he said, “You need to tell her about
the opera.”

Mary sucked in a breath. It was as if she’d just been hurled into an abyss, arms flailing and all. Her entire body stiffened
as the skin on her arms and shoulders tightened with a wash of prickly heat. “I cannot,” she whispered, shaking away a shiver.

“It is the most prudent way forward,” Richard told her calmly. “If Rotridge plans to use the information against you, your
aunt will eventually find out. I think that it would be best if she did so from you.”

Mary knew that he was right, but that didn’t seem to diminish her fear in the least. She was terrified of what her aunt would
think—of how she would react when she discovered that Mary had lied to her. How
much
, she had lied to her. Closing her eyes for a brief moment, she prayed for strength. When she opened them again, she focused
all her attention on her aunt’s curious expression and said, “You know how fond I am of reading?”

Lady Foxworth nodded. “Of course. It is one of your favorite activities. You always go to bed early so that you can have a
few hours to yourself with a good book. I have nothing against it personally though it has struck me as somewhat odd that
a young lady, such as yourself, would prefer reading to an evening at the theatre.”

Hesitantly chewing on her lower lip, Mary squeezed Richard’s hand. “To be perfectly honest, I must confess that I do not.
Prefer reading to an evening at the theatre, that is.”

“What do you mean?” Lady Foxworth’s lips parted in a perfect
O,
her eyes darting from Mary to Richard and back again.

“I mean that I was not reading when you thought I was. I was singing.” Sucking in a deep breath, Mary plunged forward. “And
I was doing so at the opera, in full view of everyone who has ever bought a ticket to see Lucia Cavalani.”

Lady Foxworth blinked, then shook her head. “I do not understand.”

Leaning slightly forward, Mary met her aunt’s eyes. “
I
am Lucia Cavalani, Aunt. I have been singing at the King’s Theatre for two full seasons now disguised as her, with earnings
of five thousand pounds per annum. And that is—”

“Good Lord,” Richard breathed.

“I am speechless,” Lady Foxworth exclaimed. “Positively speechless!”

“And that is without considering the additional profits that I have acquired from occasionally performing by special request
or going on tour. If you recall, I did stay with my brother a few times during the off-season.”

“Your brother knew about this?” Lady Foxworth sounded truly appalled now.

“I believe it was to his advantage,” Richard said, “Though I must confess that I had no idea of just how much until this moment.”
Turning his head he looked down at Mary with a mixture of admiration and something alarmingly similar to pity. “What was your
total income this last year, Mary?”

“Sixteen thousand seven hundred pounds. To be exact.”

“Good grief!” Lady Foxworth curled her hand around the armrest as if to steady herself.

“And how much of that have you given your brother?” Richard asked.

“He needed my help,” Mary said, aware of how the situation probably looked.

“How much?” Richard repeated.

Feeling horribly foolish all of a sudden, Mary dropped her gaze. “Twelve thousand pounds.”

Silence fell upon the room for one long awful moment until Richard quietly said, “I am sorry, but I daresay that he has not
been a very good brother to you.”

“I could not agree more,” Lady Foxworth said. “To think that he encouraged you to go behind my back, facilitating this . . .
this folly! And for what? You could have been horribly ruined any number of times and in any number of ways too. The people
you must have had to associate with . . . Good Lord! It does not bear thinking about, Mary. To say that I am disappointed
in you would be a grave understatement. And your poor parents! Just think of—”

“That is quite enough,” Richard cut in. “There is no need to add salt to the wound, Lady Foxworth. Mary knows that what she
did was risky, and yet I cannot help but admire her for it nonetheless.”

“Admire her?” Lady Foxworth’s tone reminded Mary of nails on a chalkboard.

“For better or worse, she tried to help her brother overcome a difficult situation when he had no one else to turn to. She
did so by transforming her voice into a powerful asset—one that is worth five thousand pounds per annum! Can you imagine how
difficult that must have been for her? Just coordinating everything so that nobody would learn the truth about her is a remarkable
feat on its own. But if you hear her sing—”

“I
have
heard her sing, Mr. Heartly,” Lady Foxworth said tightly and with an underlying note of exhaustion. Her nostrils flared.
“In fact, it seems that I have had that pleasure repeatedly. At the King’s Theatre.”

“Then you must agree that she has an incredible talent,” Richard insisted.

Lady Foxworth stared back at Mary as if she were seeing her for the very first time, which made Mary feel much like a rare
specimen in a glass jar at the Hunterian. It took every ounce of restraint she possessed not to squirm.

Eventually her aunt nodded. “Indeed, there is no denying that.” Mary breathed a sigh of relief, which came a moment too soon
since her aunt continued with, “But . . .” She held up a pointed finger to accentuate the word. “That does not mean that I
will forgive you for betraying my trust, Mary. Apparently, you are not the person I thought you to be, but someone else entirely,
and that is not an easy thing for me to accept. I am sorry.”

If her aunt had struck her, Mary doubted it would have hurt as much as the words that had just been spoken. They fell heavily
between them, like thick snow dislodged from a rooftop.

“Nevertheless,” Richard said. Releasing Mary’s hand, he brought his arm around her shoulders instead—an intimate gesture of
comfort that was terribly inappropriate, but much appreciated by Mary. “You are not the only one who knows about this. Rotridge
does as well.”

“The news just seems to be getting worse and worse,” Lady Foxworth murmured.

“And since he has chosen to tell you about Mary’s association with me, I believe it is only a matter of time before he uses
his knowledge about Mary’s career at the opera in an effort to ruin her socially.”

“To what avail?” Lady Foxworth asked. “Because she does not wish to welcome his advances?”

“Partly,” Mary said. “He claims that he is accustomed to getting what he wants and, not only did I tell him that he can never
have me, but his efforts at forcing my hand were also repeatedly diverted. I believe he feels humiliated and that he blames
me for that. Rotridge wants revenge, and he now has the perfect means by which to get it.”

“Then we must aim to stop him at all cost.” Righting herself on the sofa, Lady Foxworth served Richard a candid stare.

The corner of his mouth twitched. “I like the way you think.”

“Do you have a plan?” Mary asked, eager to know how to proceed but also worried about what might happen.

“Nothing concrete—not until I know how Rotridge intends to act. Right now, his power over you has been somewhat diminished
since you have told your aunt about Lucia Cavalani. But he might still try to convince others that you and she are one and
the same.” Rising. Richard paced back and forth a moment before coming to a halt. “I think the best bet is to deny everything.”

“Of course it is,” Lady Foxworth agreed, to Mary’s amazement. “If any questions are asked, I will vouch for Mary. Indeed,
I will tell everyone that she has spent her evenings at home and that I have personally seen her do so.”

Mary gaped. “You would lie for me?”

“Of course I would,” Lady Foxworth said as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “You are my niece, after all, and
I am duty bound to protect you.”

“I scarcely know what to say.” Her aunt’s generosity made her feel even worse, so she did the only thing that she could think
of doing in order to make things right again between them, even though she knew that it wouldn’t be nearly enough. Rising,
Mary crossed to where her aunt was sitting, leaned down and placed a kiss upon her cheek. “Thank you.”

Lady Foxworth managed a wobbly smile. Her eyes shimmered a little. “Think nothing of it,” she said as she too got to her feet
with a bit of a shrug and a nonchalant hand gesture. “Let’s just hope that it works so that we may be rid of that pestering
Rotridge for good.”

Mary couldn’t agree more as she accepted the arm that Richard offered and allowed him to escort her from the room.

“I cannot possibly thank you enough,” Mary said as she and Richard made their way down a long hallway shortly after. “It cannot
be easy for you to remove the mask and show your face after all this time.”

“No, it is not,” he agreed, noting the Duke of Pinehurst’s startled expression as they passed him, “but it is necessary, not
only if we are to save your reputation but if we are to be together. I cannot continue courting you in secret.”

“Although you must admit that our midnight rendezvous have been terribly romantic.”

Chuckling lightly, he tightened his hold on her arm. “There is no denying that.”

A shrill squeal drew Richard’s attention away from Mary, his feet almost taking a step back at the sight of a woman sprinting
toward him. He recognized her instantly as his youngest sister, Fiona. “Richard!” His name was joyfully spoken as she flung
her arms around his neck, detaching him from Mary who produced a stunned squeak. “I cannot believe that it is really you.”

“And I cannot believe that you would so easily recognize me after all these years.”

“Are you mad?” Pulling back she assessed him carefully from head to toe. “You look exactly the same as when I last saw you.”

He couldn’t help but frown in response to that obvious lie. “Except for this,” he said.

She peered up at him, almost squinting. “If that has been your only reason for hiding away in your bedchamber, I just might
throttle you.” She crossed her arms. “And I am bigger now, in case you have not noticed.”

At his right, he heard Mary choke back a laugh. “So you are,” he agreed, pressing his lips together.

“I am serious,” Fiona said. “With all the fuss about you not wanting to see us, I rather expected you to have turned into
a troll or some other terrifying creature.” Pouting in much the same way as she’d done when she was little and was being denied
a sweet, she added, “I find that I am rather disappointed by how handsome you still are.”

Richard straightened. “Now you exaggerate.”

“Not at all,” Fiona said.

“I agree with her,” Mary said. Her lips pulled slightly at the corners, dimpling her cheeks in an almost mischievous way.
“Indeed, I find you to be the most handsome of men.”

Fiona frowned. She took a step back, her eyes darting between them. “Wait a moment . . .” Her head tilted and it clearly seemed
as though she was trying to work out a puzzle. “How are the two of you acquainted with each other? I mean, if my brother has
just chosen to venture back into public, I find it odd that he would do so with a perfect stranger by his side. Unless of
course, you have known each other for some time, in which case”—she shook her head—“I do not understand this.”

It was Richard’s turn to laugh. There was really nothing better than catching his sisters by surprise and pulling the wool
over Fiona’s eyes had always been more difficult. “We met at the masquerade,” he confessed, even more amused by the confusion
that filled Fiona’s eyes at that remark.

“The masquerade?” Richard and Mary both nodded. “But that was over a week ago!”

“Yes, it was,” Richard agreed.

“I cannot believe that you attended the masquerade without letting your family know.” She paused for a second before saying,
“Don’t tell me that Spencer and Papa were aware of your presence and failed to inform the rest of us.”

“No, Fiona. I told no one, but Lady Duncaster insisted that I should participate and after much deliberation I decided that
it would be a good opportunity for me to escape my solidarity for an evening.” Bowing his head, he asked, “Do you recall the
gentleman who refused to dance with you?”

She nodded, then gasped. “That was you?”

“I hope you can forgive my rudeness, but I knew how hard it would be for me to hold you in my arms without sharing my identity
with you. At the time, I was not yet ready to return to Society.” Looking briefly at Mary, he said, “But then I met a woman
who would change my life forever. I am in her debt.”

Fiona’s eyes shimmered as she reached for Richard’s hand, enclosing it in her own. “I am so happy for you.” Blinking, she
said, “I take it that the two of you have plans?”

Mary nodded. “Your brother has just asked me to marry him and I have accepted.”

“Then you will soon be my sister.” Releasing Richard’s hand, Fiona stepped toward Mary, kissing her lightly on the cheek.
Stepping back with the brightest smile in creation, she then said, “Just wait until I tell Mama and Papa!”

Richard stared after Fiona as she hurried away from where he and Mary were still standing. “I suspect my return to Society
coupled with our unexpected engagement is about to put the entire house on edge.”

“Your mother will certainly be thrilled,” Mary said. “To marry off three children in less than a month is quite a feat.”

Richard chuckled. “Perhaps she will be able to draw some of the attention away from us.”

“Perhaps,” Mary agreed as she placed her hand upon his arm and allowed him to guide her forward once more.

A feeling of great comfort settled inside his chest. It was one that he looked forward to experiencing every day for the rest
of his life with Mary by his side.

“I must say that I am rather relieved to have you back in our midst,” Chadwick said from across the table that evening at
dinner, following a toast that Lady Duncaster had made in Richard’s honor. “I thought you were done for. Spencer never said
a word!”

“I can assure you that no one is as relieved as I.” Taking a bite of his pheasant, Richard reflected on how wonderful it was
to finally be back in Society with the freedom to do something as simple as share a meal with friends. He’d wasted precious
time in his self-induced confinement, though it had been for a good reason. A smile touched his lips at the thought of how
his foe might react upon realizing that he was not only still alive, but that he’d taken everything from him after years of
meticulous planning.