Rhonda Woodward (4 page)

Papa, the son of a farmer, had worked long hours for decades to make his business endeavors successful. Her parents had made it clear to her from an early age that they expected to move among superior society, and for that desire to be fulfilled Mariah must marry a well-connected gentleman.

As Mariah grew and her promise of beauty came to fruition, Mama expanded her goals. Nothing less than a peer of the realm would suffice.

Mariah was always painfully aware of her mother’s eagle eye upon her, and every social gathering became a test of her poise. If she spent too much time in conversation with a young man who was insufficiently pedigreed, Mama would swoop in and pull her away.

Soon friends began to avoid her—all except Julia Allard, who had remained her closest friend all through those difficult years. Mariah missed Julia terribly, but happiness overrode her sadness, for Julia was now blissfully wed to the Duke of Kelbourne.

Mariah determined to sit down soon and write a letter to Julia apprising her old friend of her stay at Heaton, the home of the Duke of Kelbourne’s good friend. Maybe Julia would have a bit of advice for her.

The fact that Julia Allard had married so astoundingly well had only fueled Mama’s desperate hope that Mariah would do the same. After all, her mother had often pointed out, Julia had not had the added advantage of a large portion.

Shaking off these depressing thoughts, Mariah continued her tour of the grounds.

Despite the fading day and the looming dinner, Mariah wandered farther, to the stand of trees on the south side of the lake. A chill wind rustled the burnt orange leaves of several ancient-looking chestnut trees. Breathing in the crisp air, she halted by a fallen tree and set her leather case upon it.

Turning slightly, she saw the imposing north-facing edifice of the mansion with its striking gate tower. Perfectly situated on an expansive rise, Heaton seemed to stretch to the horizon. The late-afternoon sun cast a silver gleam over the gray, age-mellowed stone.

The place exuded an air of imposing elegance and a sense of history. Mariah could easily envision knights in shining armor, with colorful banners waving in the wind, riding toward the porte cochere.

In spite of all of this grandness, a deep peacefulness emanated from the ancient house and grounds.

Sitting on the fallen log, with the trees around her intermittently dropping their vivid leaves, she continued to contemplate the Earl of Haverstone’s home. She wondered if a man like the earl could really appreciate such a place, or if the beauty constantly around him went unnoticed.

As the shadows grew and the chill deepened, she realized that she could no longer delay returning. She would probably be late, and Mama would ring a peal over her head. Rising from the log, she picked up her leather case.

Hang dinner
, she thought.
I am not rushing back
.

Chapter Four

“So you and your family live in Chippenham? How sweet. I believe there are lots of sheep in Chippenham,” Lady Walgrave said, leaning across the massive dining table, her blond hair burnished gold in the candlelight.

“Indeed. Probably more sheep than people,” Mariah replied dryly, reaching to pick up her crystal wine goblet.

Casting a quick glance up the table, Mariah felt relief that Mama had not heard Lady Walgrave’s comment. If she had, she would probably have announced that the Thorncrofts owned most of those sheep.

Mariah shifted anxiously in her chair, feeling completely out of her element. Ever since she sat down to dinner, it had been utterly apparent that she had nothing in common with these people. The earl had obviously invited friends from his set: all of them sophisticated, brittle, and witty.

After an hour in their company, only the sheer beauty of the room and the excellent food kept her from yawning with boredom.

As she gazed around, she secretly hoped some of the understated style would rub off onto her mother. The room proved a serene contrast to Mama’s overwrought taste in furnishings. The coved ceiling, painted with a realistic pastoral scene, made Mariah sigh with admiration.

As the chatter of the guests swirled around her, she looked across the table to her brother. She could see by his expression that he was enjoying himself immensely. She knew Steven loved this world. He found it exciting and challenging—challenging because he wanted to prove himself a real gentleman.

Mariah knew that part of the reason Steven had managed to wheedle an invitation from the earl had nothing to do with helping her find a titled husband. He wanted the chance to spend time with the aristocracy so that he could learn their modes and manners. Steven wanted to be a part of this world.

An intense feeling of love and exasperation tugged at her heart.
Why does he care so much?
she wondered. But she knew why. From birth, they had been taught that it mattered terribly to be accepted by the right people—the important, powerful people. Having money was not enough. Being part of the beau monde, the beautiful world, was what really counted.

Tonight Mariah refused to allow herself to ruminate on this old subject. Instead, she continued to observe her dinner companions.

Steven, seated next to the lovely Lady Davinia Harwich, looked relaxed and happy, no doubt because of Lady Davinia’s wonderful company.

To Mariah’s surprise and pleasure, Lady Davinia had indeed remembered her from their brief time in Bath. Before dinner she had greeted Mariah with great warmth, asking after her health and their mutual friend, Julia, the new Duchess of Kelbourne. Lady Davinia had also introduced Mariah to her cousins Mr. and Mrs. Spence-Jones, an engaging young couple whom Mariah liked immediately. Unfortunately, Lady Davinia was sitting too far up the table for Mariah to converse with her easily.

For some minutes she picked at her food and allowed the conversation to roll over her without really hearing the words.

She had given up trying to chat with the gentleman to her left, a corpulent man introduced to her as Lord Stothart. From the moment they sat down at the long table, Lord Stothart had focused his complete attention on each perfectly prepared dish the footman set before him.

The gentleman to her right, whose name she had forgotten, had been in deep conversation with the woman on his other side for most of the evening. This left Mariah to quietly take in the rest of the guests. Fifteen people graced the earl’s table. She knew this because, out of sheer boredom, she had counted heads between the first and second courses.

As she slowly ate tender bites of roast grouse, she shamelessly listened to bits of the conversation above the clinking of glass and the splashing of wine.

At the head of the table, the ladies seated on either side of the earl caught her attention. Elegant and beautiful, both seemed to laugh quite a bit at whatever he said.

To his left sat Lady Charlotte, a petite, delicate blonde. Before dinner, Mariah had met all of the guests, and Lady Charlotte had greeted her with nothing but a dismissive smile.

The lady to his right, Mrs. Ingram, had deep red hair piled high atop her head. From half-heard snippets of their chatter, Mariah surmised that both ladies were widows.

For his part, Lord Haverstone did not appear as enthralled with his table companions as they were with him.

As she examined him over the rim of her glass, Mariah grudgingly conceded that no criticism could be made of him as a host. He gave supreme attention to everything going on around him. From the way he had greeted her family earlier, she realized that he was much too polished to let his mien of politeness slip. He was also better-looking than she had thought him when they had met in Bath. Though his face was rather long, his high cheekbones and square chin combined to be more dashing and striking than classically handsome.

After discreetly watching him for some minutes, Mariah decided that the earl represented exactly the kind of man her mama wanted her to marry—titled and with loads of cachet among the beau monde. The fact that he was in need of money did not make him less desirable in her mother’s eyes.

Thank goodness social standing did not obsess her the way it did her mother, Mariah mused. Of late, Mama would often become pettish and frustrated as a result of her fixation with the aristocracy.

The thought of marrying a man for social status utterly repulsed Mariah. Nonetheless, she knew her mama would not give up her hope of the earl showing an interest in her only daughter—or, more accurately, in her only daughter’s dowry.

By the opulent luxury evident around every corner, the earl’s money troubles had not yet become evident. Mariah knew little about gambling or the managing of money, but she knew that the loss of seventeen thousand pounds would ruin even a wealthy man.

Disguising her actions while sipping her wine, Mariah watched the earl for another moment.

Plainly, he had never known anything but privilege and extravagance. She also knew that many men of his rank felt they had a duty to marry a fortune. Papa said that was how the rich got richer—fortunes combining with fortunes. She also knew that breeding and family name were held in even higher esteem among the
ton.

Mariah watched the widows on either side of the earl shower him with their laughter and praise. They vied for his attention in such an obvious way that she wondered how they fared in the running for his coronet.

With her splendid gown and jewelry, Lady Charlotte was obviously not only gorgeous but also wealthy. Mariah admired her cool blond beauty, which complimented the earl’s dark good looks.

Mariah’s attention shifted to the redheaded lady to the earl’s left. Mrs. Ingram, although not as bejeweled as Lady Charlotte, was also exquisitely garbed. Mariah found her flashing, intelligent gaze more attractive than Lady Charlotte’s somewhat overblown splendor.

Setting her glass down, Mariah shifted her gaze to the earl again. Even though it first appeared that he gave the widows his full attention, she now noticed his interest seemed elsewhere.

Occasionally he would throw out a witty comment in response to something said across the table, sending his adoring ladies into transports of mirth, but Mariah sensed that there was something missing in his enjoyment of the dinner.

Watching his face during one of these exchanges, Mariah saw that he did not appear to be the least bit flattered by the fawning praise lavished upon him by the lovely blonde and redhead.

Mariah again thought him quite handsome, particularly his lean, chiseled features and dark hair. She wondered why dark hair and blue eyes gave some men such a devilish appearance.

Once or twice, she noticed his lips tightening ever so slightly in what she interpreted as irritation.
Goodness, I seem to be making a study of him,
she thought with an inward smile.

Her impression that the earl had grown irritated solidified into certainty as dinner stretched through the evening. As each course appeared, the earl’s expression grew increasingly bored. Mrs. Ingram seemed to sense something amiss and became less talkative. Lady Charlotte, however, became even more effusive as the earl grew more distant.

Laughing to herself, Mariah thought it rather ironic that the earl found himself the hunted, instead of the hunter.

At that moment he turned from the blonde and his clear blue gaze locked with hers.

Against her best efforts, the laughter bubbling inside must have shown upon her face, for his eyes held hers as his brows went up in query. Trying to school her features to reveal nothing of her inner struggle, Mariah found herself unable to look away. Suddenly, the urge to laugh died, and her heart began to beat in an oddly breathtaking rhythm.

His questioning look intensified, so much so that the redhead turned to look down the table to see who held the earl’s attention.

Wouldn’t that be awful?
she thought, nervous laughter rising again. It would be too horrid to have the earl think her one of his admirers. At that, she pulled her gaze away, but the beating of her heart remained staccato for some moments. Something in the intensity of his sharp, perceptive gaze unnerved her.

Mariah took a sip of wine as Lady Walgrave leaned forward to address her again.

“So, Miss Thorncroft, do you and your family plan to stay at Heaton long?”

“I am not sure, my lady.” Oddly, she found the prospect of staying awhile at the lovely place slightly less objectionable than she had only hours ago.

Lady Walgrave only said, “Oh,” and turned back to her husband.

With an inward sigh, Mariah felt her stomach twist with self-consciousness. She and her family did not belong here, she thought again with growing anxiousness.

Determined to avoid the earl, she glanced up the table and watched her mother converse with the handsome young Lord Mattonly. At least he did not look as bored as the earl did. Mariah would say one thing about her mother—despite being a dreadful social climber, she had a well-deserved reputation as a conversationalist.

Mariah watched Lord Mattonly throw his head back and laugh at something Mama said.

Her mother had an innate ability to ask the right questions of her companion and a subtle way of making people, especially men, feel utterly fascinating. It was an ability that Mariah envied.

A little while later, as she finished the dish of delicious peaches in brandy sauce, Mariah sighed with relief that the meal would soon be over.

At the head of the table, Lady Charlotte and Mrs. Ingram both rose from the table at the same time.

Mariah watched, fascinated, as each glared at the other, as if willing her rival to disappear, or at least sit down.

The redhead opened her mouth to speak, but Lady Charlotte jumped in quickly.

“My lord, I believe the ladies will leave you gentlemen to your port and talk of hunting.”

Mrs. Ingram flushed hotly at being trumped in her obvious desire to act as hostess. Mariah again felt a gurgle of laughter rise at the drama unwittingly being played out before her. Although her dinner companions had barely addressed her, she had certainly not found dinner dull.

Setting her napkin next to her plate, Mariah rose and glanced toward her host, who had risen with the rest of the gentlemen. To her surprise, she found his vivid blue gaze directed toward her once again. Hastily she looked away, lest he realize that she found his behavior with his dinner companions vastly amusing.

Curtsying, she stepped away from the table and followed the other ladies out of the room. A footman led them down the hall to a smaller but no less charming salon. Mariah lagged slightly behind the group, pausing in the doorway to admire the beautiful de´cor as the others laughed and chatted.

“How like the earl to direct that my favorite dishes be served,” Mrs. Ingram pronounced as she seated herself on a chair next to the sofa. Mariah watched Lady Charlotte flush with anger at the smug look Mrs. Ingram sent her way.

As the other ladies settled themselves in various chairs and settees, Lady Charlotte quickly moved to the bellpull. A moment later the butler stepped into the room.

“Please have tea brought in, Jarvis,” Lady Charlotte directed in an imperious tone.

The look of annoyance on Mrs. Ingram’s face at being beaten to addressing the butler was comical. Mariah covered her laugh with a cough and seated herself near the hearth.

She looked across the room to see Lady Walgrave and Mama sharing a settee, apparently settling in for a nice coze.

So, Mrs. Thorncroft,” Lady Walgrave began in a clear tone, “I am curious to learn how you became acquainted with the earl. The earl and my good husband have been the dearest of friends for ages. I thought I knew all of Stone’s friends, but he never mentioned that anyone else would be joining our merry party this week.”

Mama’s smiling, guileless green eyes met Lady Walgrave’s cold blue gaze without hesitation.

“My daughter and I met the earl in Bath this spring. Mariah is the great good friend of Julia Allard, who, as I am sure you know, is the new Duchess of Kelbourne. My son also became acquainted with the earl in London, and—well—here we are.” She finished this vague explanation on a happy little laugh.

Mariah noticed that Mrs. Spence-Jones and Lady Davinia had broken off their tête-à-tête to attend to Lady Walgrave and Mrs. Thorncroft.

“The Duke and Duchess of Kelbourne?” Lady Walgrave drawled with the merest hint of disbelief and suspicion in her voice. “I attended their wedding some months ago. Stone stood as the duke’s supporter. I am surprised I did not see you or your daughter at the ceremony or the breakfast that followed.”

Mrs. Thorncroft shrugged. “’Tis not a wonder to me, my lady. It was such a large affair, after all. My husband, our eldest son, and I attended. Mariah, alas, was unable to join us. I thought it would fair break her heart, for she was to be Julia’s chief attendant. However, Mariah caught a vicious cold at the last minute and had to cry off. Julia wanted to postpone the nuptials until Mariah recovered, but my daughter would not hear of it, especially with the guests practically on the doorstep. It was a lovely affair, though. Don’t you agree?”