The Fleeing Heiress: A funny flight into love. (15 page)

“I have always been told that I favored my mother. I am
glad to discover it is true,” said Thea nervously. She dipped a small curtsy to her uncle and aunt. “I am most happy to
renew my acquaintance with you.”

Mr. Owen’s dark eyes were rived on his niece’s counte
nance. Under his unblinking regard, a flush began to mount to Thea’s cheeks.

“Pray stop staring the poor girl out of countenance, Mr. Owen,” said Mrs. Owen in gentle rebuke.

Mr. Owen seemed to shake himself out of his stupefac
tion, and the intensity of his dark gaze lessened. However, he was not behind in expressing his curiosity. “But how is it that
you have come here, niece?” He glanced towards Lord
Cardiff and back again at his niece. His face lengthened into
a deep-lined frown. “And in Lord Cardiff’s company?”

All at once Thea realized just how others might view Lord
Cardiff’s presence along with her. His lordship was not re
lated to her, and it was definitely not conventional to be trav
eling about in a gentleman’s company who was related by
neither blood nor marriage. Once again she had fallen foul of
society’s rules and she almost groaned in frustration. Would
she never be allowed to return to her former life, unfettered by suspicion and the whiff of scandal? All at once she was glad for her great-aunt’s insistence that she send a personal note by way of Thea to the Owens.

“I—I have a letter from my great-aunt, Mrs. Partridge,
which might shed some light, sir,” she said, opening her
reticule and drawing out the sealed billet.

Mr. Owen took the letter, his face expressing his surprise.
“Theresa Partridge? But how does she fit into this?”

“I am certain that it is a vastly interesting story,” said Mrs.
Owen in her placid way. “Pray let us all sit down and be com
fortable during the telling. I shall ring for tea, for it was un
doubtedly a cold drive today and you will be glad of
something hot, I expect.”

Suiting action to words, Mrs. Owen arranged for a tea tray to be brought in and insisted upon the visitors taking the most
comfortable chairs, while she and Mr. Owen settled on the
cushioned sofa opposite them. She kept up a gentle flow of
impersonal conversation that was free of embarrassing questions or allusions and to which Thea and Lord Cardiff were able to respond with ease.

Mr. Owen slit open the seal on Mrs. Partridge’s letter with
his thumbnail and spread out the single sheet. He scanned it
rapidly, his brows rising in momentary amazement at what he read. Then he slowly folded the letter and tapped it into
his palm, directing a thoughtful gaze at his niece and Lord
Cardiff.

Before the tea was even poured, Mrs. Owen had given or
ders for Thea’s maid to be shown upstairs to a spare bed
chamber where her mistress’s belongings could be unpacked
and for Lord Cardiff’s servants and his lordship’s horses to
be given proper care. “You will naturally stay to dinner, my
lord,” she said with a gentle smile.

Cardiff bowed his acceptance, his expression one of easy
good humor. “If I may encroach on your hospitality further, Mr. Owen, would it be possible for one of your stable hands
to return the horse which I rode here back to the inn from
where I got it?”

“Of course, my lord. Nothing could be simpler. I shall
send a message down to the stables at once,” said Mr. Owen.
He beckoned the butler to him and spoke a few words to him.
The butler nodded understanding.

Cardiff murmured his thanks. If he would have preferred
to begin his return journey that same evening, there was
nothing in either his face or his demeanor to lead one to sus
pect it. For all the notice he gave, it was perfectly acceptable
to him that his carriage had been directed around to the
stables and his servants given refreshment and shelter in preparation for the night.

Mr. Owen was content enough to allow his wife to man
age such domestic matters to her satisfaction. He had set
aside the letter in order to accept the cup and saucer which
Mrs. Owen offered to him, and he lifted the steaming cup to
his lips. He sat quite at ease, one long leg crossed over the other, the picture of a benevolent host.

However, as soon as the tea was served and the butler had
withdrawn, and he was assured there would be no interruptions, Mr. Owen set aside his cup and saucer with a decisive
clatter. “Now, niece, I wish an explanation. My brain is rife with speculations, none of which quite satisfy me. Mrs. Par
tridge’s letter only stirs up more questions. You perceive I do
not question your identity, for you look too much like my
dear sister—your mother—for me to deny the connection.
However, I do wonder at your abrupt arrival on my doorstep
on a winter’s eve.”

“Now, Thatcher, give the poor girl a moment to swallow her tea. You have made her choke,” said Mrs. Owen mildly,
sipping her own with a serene expression.

Mr. Owen grunted. “It seems that I have done nothing
right, my dear. You will say that I have twice now set out to put her out of countenance, but I have done no such thing.
Very well! I await my niece’s pleasure.” There was an irascible note in his voice, hinting at an underlying impatience of temperament.

Thea threw a helpless glance around and tried to muffle
her coughing in her napkin. She was hot from embarrass
ment, for in her view it could not have happened at a worse time. She had wished to make the perfect impression her re
lations.

“Perhaps while Miss Stafford recovers, I should begin an explanation of my own presence,” said Cardiff smoothly,
stepping at once into the breach.

Mr. Owen gave an approving nod. He picked up his cup and saucer again and leisurely lifted the cup to his thin lips.
“Pray continue, my lord.”

“I was putting up at an inn on the road to London after vis
iting friends in the country. I met Miss Stafford when I overheard a conversation between her and a very unpleasant
gentleman. I felt myself compelled to intervene in what I learned to my startlement was a forcible abduction,” said
Cardiff matter-of-factly.

It was Mr. Owen’s turn to splutter over a mouthful of tea. “Wh-what?”

Mrs. Owen patted her husband helpfully on the back. “How very shocking, to be sure,” she said. Her gaze was
bright with interest. “I suppose you were successful in your
intervention, my lord?”

“Quite,” said Cardiff, casually flicking a bit of lint from
his coat sleeve.

“His lordship knocked Mr. Quarles down and had the
innkeeper put him out of the inn.” Thea was anxious that
Lord Cardiff receive all of the credit which was due him.
She threw a warm glance in his lordship’s direction. “I was
never in my life more grateful to anyone.”

“Who was this Mr. Quarles and how did he come to
abduct you?” asked Mr. Owen hoarsely. He was still not
fully recovered and cleared his throat a couple of times
more.

Thea explained the entire thing to her uncle, enlarging
upon her story as she recalled various points. Mr. Owen lis
tened, his gaze never shifting from her face, and with his lips
tightly compressed. Once he muttered a wrathful exclama
tion, but when Thea stopped to look a question, he waved her on and did not again interrupt her narrative.

“Then Papa and my brothers arrived.” Thea bit her lip, remembering vividly the outcome of that memorable meet
ing.

“I take it that your papa was not best pleased by your sit
uation?” asked Mrs. Owen quietly and with exquisite tact.

Thea shook her head. Her eyes sparked with a glitter of
anger. “No, Papa was not! Everything would have been fine,
however, if it had not been for Philip’s contention that I had
to be wed at once. And Papa—” She could not go on and looked down at her cup and saucer. That her father could
have behaved so improperly still had the power to recall her
to burning humiliation.

Cardiff realized that Miss Stafford had come to the
breach and was unable to expose the full foolishness of her
parent. He sympathized, for it could not be an easy revela
tion. “In short, Mr. Stafford decided that I should be made to
wed his daughter out of hand, and at once, in order to pre
serve her good name,” said Cardiff quietly.

The Owens gaped in open astonishment. Mr. Owen
shook his head as though he could not be certain of what he
had heard. He started to say something, but apparently
thought better of it.

“You, my lord?” faltered Mrs. Owen. She also shook her
head in apparent bewilderment. She exchanged pungent glances with her husband. “I do not understand. It was not you who had compromised my niece.”

“Exactly, Aunt! I tried to reason with Papa but he would
not listen,” exclaimed Thea, glad that her own opinion on
that mortifying occasion had been given legitimacy. “He
told my brothers to carry Lord Cardiff and me to Gretna
Green while he went after Mr. Quarles.”

“Ridiculous!” said Mr. Owen hastily. “A gentleman of
Lord Cardiff’s stamp would never agree to such arrant non
sense.”

“You are quite right, sir. I did not agree; but my protests were overruled,” said Cardiff, a hint of rueful laughter in his
voice. He meditatively sipped his tea while his audience
waited expectantly for him to continue, which he did in a
thoughtful tone. “I discovered that one cannot argue very ef
fectively against a leveled pistol.”

“Outrageous! Utterly outrageous! Now I understand Mrs.
Partridge’s envenomed references to my brother-in-law.”
Mr. Owen seemed unable to contain himself any longer. He
snapped down the cup and saucer on an occasional table,
causing the china to rattle, and jumped to his feet.

“Now, Thatcher, pray do watch your tongue,” said Mrs.
Owen warningly. “You tend to utter things you later regret
when you let yourself get into a taking.”

Mr. Owen seemed not to hear his wife. He took a quick turn about the parlor, swinging around at last to say in a
blighting tone, “I unhesitatingly condemn Stafford’s han
dling of this matter. You have my abject apologies, my lord,
for the humiliation you have suffered at my brother-in-law’s
hands.”

“I respect your sentiments, sir. Thank you,” said Cardiff
with a slight bow.

Mr. Owen shook his head again, his expression darkened.
“I never considered Stafford to be a gentleman of good un
derstanding. I am more than ever convinced of it. You must
have thought him to be mad!”

Thea went hot with embarrassment. It was one thing to become all too aware of your parent’s failings, but quite another to hear the same pronounced by one was essentially a
stranger to her. With as much dignity as possible, she said,
“Papa cares for me very much, Uncle. He—he is perhaps
not very wise, but nevertheless I have never doubted his af
fection for me.”

Mr. Owen’s only reply was a loud snort of derision. He
took another turn around the parlor, his hands clasped behind him. He was heard to mutter under his breath.

Mrs. Owen apparently felt herself obliged to soften her
spouse’s reaction. She addressed her niece with open sym
pathy. “My poor dear! You have had a horrid time of it,
haven’t you? I am so very glad that Lord Cardiff had the
sense to bring you to us.”

“Indeed! You cannot be blamed for running away from
such an idiot,” said Mr. Owen bitingly over his shoulder.

Thea pressed her lips tightly together, her color becom
ing high. Her large eyes flashed at her uncle before she low
ered her gaze. It was difficult to sit silent while her uncle
belittled her father, but Thea realized her uncle’s denouncement was only what she might have expected. She had even
told Lord Cardiff of the depth of bad feeling between her
father and uncle, so why it should surprise her when ft sur
faced she did not know.

Mrs. Owen hurried into speech, directing an admonish
ing frown at her spouse as she did so. “I suspect we all need
a little time to adjust to this surprising turn of affairs.” She
set aside her tea and rose to her feet. Holding out her hand
in invitation, she said, “Come, Thea. I shall take you upstairs
to your room. You must be quite exhausted by this entire or
deal. Your maid will undoubtedly be able to make you more comfortable by bringing up warm water to wash in, and nat
urally you will wish to change before dinner.”

“Thank you, Aunt,” said Thea quietly. She was grateful
that she was to be given some time to herself. Solitude
would allow her to regain something of her equilibrium. It
had been an emotional day, including as it had her great-aunt’s surprising refusal to aid her and now her uncle’s obvious disaffection for her father.

Mrs. Owen paused before she left and smiled at her other
guest. “Lord Cardiff, pray let our butler know when you
wish to be shown upstairs, as well. I assure you hat you are most
welcome to stay the night.”

Lord Cardiff and Mr. Owen had respectfully stood up
when the ladies rose to their feet. Lord Cardiff bowed in acknowledgment of Mrs. Owen’s gracious invitation. With his
winning smile, he said, “Thank you, ma’am. I will be glad
of your hospitality.”

For a moment he watched while Mrs. Owen and Miss
Stafford crossed the room towards the door, before his at
tention was once more claimed by his host.

“I gathered earlier that you do not have your man with
you, Lord Cardiff. I shall send mine to you to render what
ever service you might require,” said Mr. Owen.

“In truth, I shall be glad of it, sir. I fear I do not even have
a proper change of clothes for dinner,” said Cardiff with a
laugh. More to the point, he thought, he needed the man’s
help in easing him out of his coat. His shoulder was still
aching from exposure to the cold and the tension of holding
the reins during the long ride that day.

“We shall not stand on ceremony, my lord,” said Mr.
Owen, waving aside his lordship’s rueful apology.

As Mrs. Owen opened the door and ushered Thea out into
the entry hall, Thea overheard her uncle once more address Lord Cardiff.

“Lord Cardiff, I suspect there is more that has been
skimmed over in my niece’s and your own account. I wish
you will be perfectly plain with me, my lord.”

“Of course, Mr. Owen. I am entirely at your service.”

Thea wondered what her uncle might ask Lord Cardiff,
and flushed. Whatever his lordship said would not reflect
well upon her situation or her family. It had been a horrid
tangle from first to last.

Mrs. Owen kept up a light patter of social talk, her arm
hooked in Thea’s, as she led the way up the broad, carpeted stairs. On the second floor, Mrs. Owen civilly ushered Thea
into a large, well-appointed bedchamber. A curtained four-
poster of mahogany dominated one side of the room, and the
chambermaid who had accompanied Thea was efficiently
turning down the fine bedclothes and plumping the bolsters. A large wardrobe stood opposite the bed, its doors standing
wide. Thea’s scant belongings looked meager hanging inside its spacious, paneled interior. The fire that crackled
merrily in the grate lent a cheery glow against the gloom that
could be seen outside through the frosted windowpanes.
Two wing chairs had been set cosily opposite one another in
front of the hearth.

Thea untied the ribbons of her bonnet and took it off, lay
ing the bonnet with exaggerated care on a bedside table. She felt drained by the myriad of emotions she had been experi
encing for the past several hours, and she knew it was not
yet over. Otherwise her aunt would not have accompanied
her, but would instead have rung for a servant to show her
upstairs.

At a pleasant word from Mrs. Owen, the chambermaid
curtsied and left the bedchamber. Once they were alone,
Mrs. Owen folded together her hands in front of her waist
and looked over at Thea with a speculative gaze. “Well, dear
niece, you have had quite an adventure. Much of it sounds
to have been very uncomfortable. We shall speak no more of
it unless you wish otherwise, for I have always found it is best to forget unpleasant things.”

“I am certain that is true. Aunt,” said Thea quietly. She waited for what else her aunt might have to say, for it was
obvious Mrs. Owen had not sent the chambermaid away in
order to voice a simple platitude.

“Now we must decide what is to be done with you,” said
Mrs. Owen in a considering voice. Her gaze touched Thea’s face and traveled down and up again, to come to rest once
more on her niece’s fair countenance.

Thea looked back steadily at her aunt. Her heart beating
heavily again from mixed hope and apprehension. “What do
you propose, dear ma’am?”

“It is up to your uncle, of course, but I rather think you
would do well to make your home with us for a time,” said
Mrs. Owen placidly.

Thea’s lips trembled. Her sweeping sense of relief was
enormous. She made an effort to control her voice and man
age a cool civility. “Thank you, Aunt. I had hoped that I
could take refuge with you and my uncle.”

“You were quite right to apply to us, my dear. As I said,
it is up to your uncle, but from what he has already said I be
lieve he will need little convincing. He does not care for your father overmuch, you see, and is inclined to do just
what will most irritate Mr. Stafford,” said Mrs. Owen with
the hint of smile.

“Oh, dear,” said Thea, somewhat taken aback. “I had not
thought of that. I hope there will not be too much trouble be
tween my father and my uncle.

“Pray do not give it another thought, my dear. There is
not the least thing one can do to change the inevitable,” said
Mrs. Owen serenely.

Thea did not know what to make of her aunt’s placid ob
servation and wisely decided not to venture an opinion.

Mrs. Owen moved a couple of steps forward so that she
could more easily scan Thea’s things in the wardrobe. She
pursed her lips. Thoughtfully, she added, “In the next day or
so I shall write a civil letter to your father to tell him that I
have invited you for a long stay with us. I shall naturally re
quest that your maid and your wardrobe be sent to you.”