Rhonda Woodward (2 page)

Chapter Two

“And then he called me ‘Thorncroft,’ just as a friend would.”

Suppressing a vexed sigh, Mariah Thorncroft looked up from her embroidery to glare at her brother’s pleased face as he lounged on the sofa across from her. She had lost count of the number of times she had heard him repeat this utterly dull story. Looking down, she stabbed the needle into the hoop; her mood rebelled against hearing it yet again.

Even with the retelling, she always had the feeling that Steven left something out. It did not make sense to her that an earl would suddenly strike up a conversation with her brother—a definite nobody in aristocratic circles—and invite the Thorncrofts to a house party at his country estate.

Especially
the Earl of Haverstone.

An image of his lean, angular face with intense blue eyes and a proud expression immediately came to mind.

She had had the dubious honor of being introduced to the wickedly handsome earl while visiting friends in Bath last spring. The encounter had been extremely brief. She recalled how the earl’s light blue gaze had passed over her without a flicker of expression crossing his bored features.

***

Mariah could come up with no plausible reason for the earl to have invited them. Steven had not even made the trip to Bath. She strongly suspected that Steven had mistaken the earl’s meaning, or had highly exaggerated the connection.

Over her embroidery, she contemplated her older brother with a suspicious eye as he twirled a chair pillow between his hands.

Besides, her thoughts continued, the Earl of Haverstone—known as Stone among the
ton—
would not find her family at all interesting. From all she had heard of him, the earl’s world was as different from the Thorncrofts’ as chalk and cheese.

“But, Steven, that was months ago, and we have yet to receive a formal invitation. He has probably forgotten all about it. By all means, go if you do not care about embarrassing yourself, but I have no intention of showing up on the earl’s doorstep.”

“But you must!”

Mariah raised her brow at her brother’s vehement tone and opened her mouth to argue.

“Indeed, you must, young lady.”

Mariah closed her mouth and turned at the sound of her mother’s voice. The petite lady marched into the room, looking quite lovely in her morning gown of cream-colored silk.

“I have great hopes that eligible gentlemen from illustrious families will also be guests of the earl. This is a gift from heaven,” Mrs. Thorncroft proclaimed. Seating herself next to her daughter, she sent a smile to her son.

Mariah shook her head in a hopeless gesture. “Oh, Mama, are you still determined to buy a title? I have managed to evade such a fate these last three Seasons, and I am determined to last three more if need be.”

Mrs. Thorncroft’s smile faded into a frown as she addressed her daughter. “Have I not taught you that it is as easy to marry a peer as a plain mister? Sometimes I think you are determined to see me miserable. Do you not wish to give me and Papa grandchildren?”

Mariah sighed. Setting aside her embroidery, she gave herself a moment to marshal her response to this oft-repeated argument. “Well, I certainly do not need to have a title for that. What about Steven? He can give you grandchildren, but he is not even close to getting near an altar. Why are you not haranguing him to marry?”

Mrs. Thorncroft waved a dismissive hand toward her eldest son. “Yes, Steven will give me grandchildren someday, but only you can give me
titled
grandchildren. Just think—me, the grandmother of a future baron or even an earl,” she sighed, a dreamy look of delight coming to her pretty features.

“Oh, Mama.” Any endeavor to dissuade her mother from daydreaming about Mariah wearing a coronet would be hopeless.

“Do not ‘Oh, Mama’ me. We shall be going to Heaton in two weeks. A verbal invitation is good enough. I am just concerned that some of your gowns will not be completed in time.”

Mariah made no response and sat silently as her mother and brother excitedly discussed the impending journey to Heaton. After some minutes, Mariah felt her temper rise, and she turned her annoyed gaze on her brother.

“You are no help at all. You used to be on my side,” she said in an accusatory tone. “Now you are helping Mama put me on exhibition in front of a bunch of strangers. They will look down their noses at us. That is, if they let us pass through the front door.”

Stephen ran impatient fingers through his wavy brown hair. “Of course they will. Let us past the front door, I mean, not look down their noses. Do not be a widgeon. Stone invited us outright.”

“Well, I will manage to get out of it. Just you wait and see,” she stated, ignoring her mother’s outraged gasp.

“You can’t, scamp.” Steven slouched farther down in the chair and sent her a rather smug look.

“You keep saying that. If you want to go, then go. Why put me through what will prove to be a humiliating experience?”

Steven sighed heavily and looked from his sister to his mother, then back again. “As our departure draws near, I might as well tell you both the whole of it.”

Mariah felt an immediate sense of dread at her brother’s words. “I have had the feeling you were hiding something!”

“Do not speak in riddles, Steven. Out with it,” Mrs. Thorncroft commanded, leaning forward with a frown.

“I told the earl I would bring Mariah.”

Mariah’s breath caught in her throat, and she clutched the chair arm reflexively.

“He lost a fortune that night,” Steven continued, sitting up straight, his tone no longer smug. “Seventeen thousand pounds.”

Mariah gasped and felt her mother’s hand clutch her arm.

“Seventeen thousand pounds!”
the ladies exclaimed in unison.

“Yes,” he confirmed, looking at Mariah. “Later, I mentioned that you had an enormous dowry. He seemed delighted. I did not want to say this earlier, especially to Mama—I would hate to get her hopes up—but this might be your chance to land a plum title.”

Mrs. Thorncroft vigorously fanned her cheeks with her hand. “Such a fortune! Why, that sum would keep a family well housed for twenty years! He lost so much in one night?” she asked with dismay.

Mariah stared at her brother, unable to formulate any coherent words to express her own astonishment.

“What?” she finally whispered in horrified anger. She could not quite believe that she had heard aright. How could her brother have been so crass?

This really is the outside of enough,
she thought, clenching her hands at her sides.

Quite possibly, this could be the most mortifying moment of her life. Even enduring the ignominy, Season after Season, of having her mother practically trip her in front of any remotely suitable gentleman paled in comparison to hearing this.

An instant later she drew her arm back and threw the pillow right at her brother’s head. As it hit him on the forehead, she only regretted that it had not been a rock.

“I will not be joining you on your trip to Sussex,” she stated in a surprisingly calm voice and left the room without a backward glance.

***

Two days before the dreaded visit to Heaton, Mariah determined to try once more to convince her papa to put a halt to this ill-conceived journey.

As she walked down the main hallway, she made her way through the jumbled mass of her mother’s antiques and bibelots.

Thorncroft Manor, as her mother had styled it years ago, was a large, handsome house in the rambling Tudor fashion. However, Mariah often felt almost suffocated by the sheer number of
things
stuffed into every corner and taking up almost every inch of wall space.

Papa had recently grumbled about the price he had paid for the wallpaper when it could barely be seen beneath the expensive clutter. Mariah agreed with his complaints as she passed yet another old portrait of a member of someone else’s family.

Shaking her head as she sidestepped an enormous urn, she despaired over her otherwise sweet mama’s obsession with the trappings of nobility.

For as long as she could remember, her mother could not resist purchasing anything gilded and costly. No matter how Papa threatened to cut off her credit with the local tradesmen, odd items still arrived almost monthly. Papa would seethe and occasionally rant, Mama would coo and cajole, the item would stay, and the house grew ever more stuffed.

Mariah had long ago concluded that her mother’s overspending had a direct correlation to her father’s tightfisted behavior with the rest of the family. He agonized over the pennies his children and servants spent, while ignoring the crowns his wife threw away.

She found him, as she usually did, working away on his papers in the large library—the library he had refused to allow Mama to decorate for him.

“Ah, Mariah, love, come in,” he called as she poked her head through the partially open door.

She sent him a hesitant smile before stepping in. “Good morning, Papa. May I harangue you a little more about this ridiculous trip?”

“If you must,” he said, a twinkle coming to the hazel eyes very like her own. He rose and came from behind the desk to sit with her on the overstuffed sofa by the fireplace.

Settling in next to him, Mariah gave her father a beseeching smile. “Now, you must know that I am terribly serious about refusing to go to this awful house party. I do not even have an assurance that we are truly invited. Steven and Mama do not seem to care that we could arrive and be turned away in an instant.”

Papa nodded in understanding as he tugged the bottom of his deep green waistcoat down over his trim stomach.

“It’s no use, my love. Your mother and Steven are utterly determined. Even George seems quite excited about the prospect of going.”

“Of course he would.” Mariah rolled her eyes at the mention of her ten-year-old brother. “But Papa, my wishes are not even being considered. Mama has ordered the servants to pack all my clothes, even things I would never take, just so I will have nothing to wear if I refuse to leave! I have never seen her so ruthless.”

Her father chuckled sympathetically.” ’Tis no point in gainsaying your mother when she is this determined to have her way. She considers this a golden opportunity to present you to the right sort of people.”

“I could not help noticing that you have gotten out of having to join us,” she pointed out, her tone only half teasing.

“You know I have too much to do here. I can barely keep up with everything going on at the mills.

With the fluctuations in wool prices, I have to be extremely careful. No, there will be no haring off to country house parties for me. But you might as well make the best of it, Mariah, love, for you will be in the traveling coach two days hence.”

Mariah felt the weight of her father’s prediction settle upon her and sighed deeply. “I suppose so, but I have no intention of cooperating with Mama’s plan to dangle my dowry in front of any titled gentleman under the age of eighty.”

A frown furrowed his brow. “Now, Mariah, your mother does not expect you to wed an old man. I understand the Earl of Haverstone is young. Since his pockets must be to let after losing such a vast sum of money, you may have a little luck bringing him to scratch,” he offered in a hearty, encouraging tone.

Sinking into a feeling of hopelessness at ever making her papa see reason, Mariah watched his determined expression for a moment before deciding to lay down her trump card.

“There really is no reason for such a vulgarly large dowry, Papa. Just think how much money you can save if you reduce the amount by half.” Mariah watched his strong features closely, hoping to see some sign of softening.

Everyone knew of Mr. Thorncroft’s penny-pinching ways. How he could resist the temptation to hold on to some of his hard-earned money?

He frowned and wagged a finger at her. “We are not going to tread this ground again. Since your birth, your mother and I have been planning for your future. That fancy governess who taught you how to speak and act like a lady retired in luxury on what I paid her. It would be foolish to waste everything we have done for you on anyone less than a peer.”

“I know, Papa, but do you not see how you have consigned me to a tenuous fate?”

“I do not see it that way at all,” he stated, looking a little hurt. “I have ensured that you will have the best of everything. You shall be fully accepted in Society and treated with respect by everyone.”

“How can you believe what you say? There is no assurance that I will wed a man of honor. If, by the greatest good luck, I am fortunate enough to wed a man of good reputation, how will I ever know for certain if he truly cares for me?”

At her father’s closed expression, she continued, her tone almost pleading for understanding. “Worse yet, it is most likely that he will see me only as the goose that laid the golden egg. It’s too dreadful to contemplate.”

“What’s this? Do not be silly, Mariah. Any man fortunate enough to have you as his wife could not help but adore you.”

Mariah threw her hands up in frustration. “What guarantee do I have of that? Only fortune hunters and wastrels will be attracted to me. Gentlemen of good character do not want to be seen in that light.”

Her father continued to look stubborn. Long ago, Mariah had tired of arguing with her parents on this subject. Wearily, she gave reason one more try.

“You should know that I intend to make myself quite disagreeable to any titled gentleman who comes within ten yards of me.”

“I do not intend to quarrel with you, my dear,” Papa said, rising from the sofa. He went back to his desk and pulled a small object from a drawer. Returning to the sofa, he dropped the leather drawstring bag next to her.

“There is a little something to take care of the servants and for any trips to the local village. Do not spend it all at once.”

Gently hefting the bag in the palm of her hand, Mariah seriously doubted the bag held enough coins to tip the servants, never mind for shopping.

With a resigned inward shrug, she rose from the sofa and kissed her father’s smooth cheek.

“Thank you, Papa.”

“That’s a good girl,” he said, patting her shoulder. “Now, no more pouts about leaving, hmm?”