The Fleeing Heiress: A funny flight into love. (18 page)

Thea shook her head, still looking up at the portrait. “No.
I thought so, too, at first. But she was much more beautiful.”

“Her features were perhaps slightly more perfect, but I confess that I prefer the sparkle of willfulness in your eyes to that dreamy gaze,” said Cardiff matter-of-factly.

Thea looked around quickly, a faint glimmer of annoy
ance in her face. It set up her back that he could criticize her
mother’s image by even a prettily turned backhanded com
pliment. “My lord? Just what is it that you are implying?”

Cardiff glanced down at her, and his quick smile flashed.
“Confess, Miss Stafford!
You
would have been too hard-
headed to have married a man like your father. You would
have sent the gentleman to the roundabout.”

All of her indignation flown, Thea felt her lips quiver at
the justice of his lordship’s observation. “Perhaps, my lord!”

Cardiff smiled again. He shook his head. “I suspect I
know you better than you know yourself, Miss Stafford.”

“Oh, I think not, my lord!” retorted Thea. “It is the pre
rogative of a gentleman to assume such, of course, but it is
the lady’s privilege to divulge only that which she wishes to
reveal!”

“And what do you wish to reveal to me, Miss Stafford?”
asked Cardiff softly, smiling down into her face.

Thea did not know how Lord Cardiff came of a sudden to be standing so close to her. His nearness discommoded her,
setting her pulses pounding. She managed to tilt a smile up
at him. “Why, my lord, that would be telling! And that goes
against the rules, you know.”

“You are an accomplished flirt, Miss Stafford,” said
Cardiff, stepping back from her and lacing her arm through
his. For an instant his hand continued to hold her fingers
against the crook of his arm. “Now let us finish our tour. You
are beginning to take on a bluish tint from the cold—a star
tling phenomenon, I assure you.”

“How very ungallant of you, my lord,” said Thea affably.
Lord Cardiff laughed. She was glad that he had reverted
back to being her friendly companion. Contrary to his lordship’s teasing assertion, she did not feel at all like an ac
complished flirt. It had taken all of her social training not to
let him see how much he affected her. If there was nothing
else that she understood, Thea knew that it was the height of
folly to wear one’s heart on one’s sleeve. She would not embarrass Lord Cardiff by revealing feelings for him that he
could not possibly return on the basis of their brief, pecu
liarly begun acquaintance.

It did not take long to finish their tour of the gallery, and
when they had turned around to start the walk back down its
length, Cardiff suggested that they repair to the back parlor
“If you would not mind indulging me, Miss Stafford, I
would like to listen to you play the pianoforte again,” he
said.

Thea readily agreed. She could not think of a better way
to while away the remainder of the morning and said so. Her
eyes sparkled with enthusiasm. “I dearly love music,
whether I am playing it or listening to someone else,” she
said.

“I have a pronounced fondness for music also,” said
Cardiff. He stopped her by the simple expedient of turning
and laying his hand on top of hers where it rested on his arm.
“Do you dance, Miss Stafford?”

Thea looked up at him in surprise. “Why, yes, my lord. And I enjoy the exercise very much.”

“As do I,” said Cardiff. “We have something else in
common, then. Miss Stafford, do you recall the last piece
you played last night?”

“Of course, my lord.”

“I have not been able to get it out of my head since,” said
Cardiff. He drew her arm out of his, only to slide his hand
down her slender sleeve until he could clasp her hand
warmly in his. “I believe the melody went something like
this.” He hummed the tune softly, even as he began to lead
her in the steps of a simple round dance. She followed his
lead hesitantly at first, then with greater assurance. Her head
tilted as she listened to Lord Cardiff’s humming and a far
away expression entered her eyes.

It was magic, dancing to music that mainly existed only
in their heads, alone in the cold gallery with the snow falling
silently outside.

Their gazes met and tangled. As she stared into his lord
ship’s intent eyes, Thea’s steps faltered.

Cardiff stopped, but he did not remove his gaze from her
still face. Slowly, he gathered her into his hard embrace. She
did not resist, but rather melted against him. He murmured in satisfaction and bent his head downwards.

It was the most natural thing in the world for Thea to lift
her lips to Lord Cardiff’s. Her lashes fluttered down as he kissed her. Her heart beat wildly in her breast. Her mind whirled as though she were spinning.

When Lord Cardiff released her, Thea raised a shaking
hand to her still-parted lips. She stared up at him with a
dazed expression in her darkened eyes. “I have never been kissed before,” she whispered.

Cardiff shook his head as though to clear it. “I think I
must be mad,” he said, half to himself. “I swear I heard an
orchestra playing just now.”

“Then we must be mad together, for I heard the music
just as plainly,” said Thea.

Cardiff appeared to make an effort at regaining reality.
“Miss Stafford, forgive me. I have taken unfair advantage of
you and I know it, “he said quietly.

Thea felt a trembling smile come to her lips. “My dear
sir, I do not in the least regret it. It was part and parcel of this
very odd interlude in my life.”

“Yes, of course.” Cardiff sought a diversion for himself.
He thought that if she continued to look at him like that he
might snatch her back into his arms, and that would be an
unpardonable breach of trust. There was no knowing where
it might lead. He brought his heavy gold watch out of his
waistcoat pocket and opened the engraved lid. “It is almost
of the hour. Allow me to escort you back, Miss Stafford.”

Feeling deflated by his lordship’s reversion to a formal
manner, Thea assented and together they left the gallery.
They made polite conversation for the several minutes it
took to reenter the lived-in area of the manor, neither allud
ing to what had transpired but both consumed by nothing
else in their reflections.

Thea and Lord Cardiff parted on the landing, each to
enter their separate bedrooms in order to ready themselves
for luncheon.

When Thea entered her bedroom, her thoughts were
tumbling so disjointedly that it would have been won
derful if she recalled why she had opened the door. How
ever, she stopped short at sight of the sturdy figure bustling
around the room, and all of her confusion fled. “Hitchins!
Oh, Hitchins!” She rushed to embrace her maid, laughing and crying with happiness. “I have missed you so!”

The maid’s face reddened and she sniffed, equally af
fected but not wanting to show it. “Now, miss, do give over!
I am that glad to see you, too, but we’ve work to do if you are to be changed in time for luncheon.”

Thea obediently turned around so that her lady’s maid
could start undoing the tiny pearl buttons down the back of
her gown. She looked over her shoulder. “But what are you doing here? And have you really brought my clothes with
you? Oh, Hitchins, I could kiss you!”

The maid chuckled. “What a funny one you are, miss. I am very happy to see you alive and safe. It was a relief to
hear that you were here.” She helped her mistress to discard
the gown. She clucked over the strange garment, shaking
her head. “This gown is beneath you, miss. I shall get rid of
it at once. Perhaps I shall give it to that inferior female I dis
covered in your bedchamber earlier and who is now residing
in her proper place in the servant’s hall.”

“I don’t understand! How did you know where I was?”
asked Thea, turning around to face her maid. She was attired
only in her light camisole and slip and she wrapped her arms
around her body to ward off a shiver.

“Why, Master Thomas and Master Philip returned home without you and this lord of yours, Miss Thea, and told your
Papa everything that happened. Mr. Stafford flew into a
fury, as much over that as over the blistering letter they had carried to him from your great-aunt. He called it a great im
pertinence,” said Hitchins. She lifted a freshly pressed
merino gown from the bed where she had laid it and tossed it expertly over her mistress’s head.

As soon as her head emerged, Thea asked, “Great-Aunt
Theresa? Hitchins! Did my brothers search for me at our
great-aunt’s?” Thea hastily pulled up the sleeves of the olive
merino gown to her shoulders and turned so that the maid
could button up the back of the dress.

“Indeed they did, miss, and from all I heard they were
sent away after a fine trimming from the old lady,” said
Hitchins with a chuckle.

Thea laughed. “Oh, poor Thomas! Poor Philip!” She sat down on the small backless stool at the vanity so that her
maid could brush out her naturally wavy hair.

“Precisely, miss. So there was your papa stomping and roaring around in a rare taking and swearing that he would avenge your honor and that he would see to it that this lord
of yours, Lord Cardiff would be brought to book for mak
ing off with you,” said Hitchins, her hands busy with hair
brush and comb as she expertly arranged her mistress’s
honey blond locks in a becoming fashion.

Thea corrected the maid. “He is not ‘my’ Lord Cardiff,
Hitchins. And while it is true that he made off with me, it
was only to place me in my Uncle Owen’s care.”

“Yes, miss, and I suspect that angered your papa more
than all the rest,” said Hitchins with some shrewdness. As a finishing touch, she threaded a blue satin ribbon through her
mistress’s hair.

“Oh, dear. Well, it will be a jolly luncheon, will it not? I
only hope Papa will not throw one of his tantrums.”

When Thea was completely dressed and coiffed, she re
garded her reflection with satisfaction. She looked much
more like herself than she had for days. She hoped Lord
Cardiff would approve. After the way he had behaved in the
gallery, a surge of hope had entered her heart. Perhaps she would be given another opportunity to consider his suit. At
the thought, followed by a vivid memory of his kiss, an at
tractive color rose in her cheeks and her eyes sparkled. Even
she could see that she was in rare beauty.

Thea turned impulsively to her maid and grabbed her
hand to give it an affectionate squeeze. “I have truly missed
you, dear Hitchins! I have been so miserable and looked so
awful without you to help me.”

The maid gave a sentimental sniff. “I missed you, too, miss. I was that put out when Mr. Quarles set me on foot!
But it has all ended for the best, after all.”

“Yes, indeed!” Thea looked at her maid, a tiny frown sud
denly forming between her brows as a thought occurred to
her. “Hitchins, how is it that Papa and my brothers and you
were able to come through the snowstorm? It was still snow
ing heavily early this morning.”

The maid grimaced. “Now that is a harrowing tale, miss!
Mr. Stafford had me pack your things at once, and we up and
left not an hour after he had the letter from your great-aunt
telling him where you were going. We drove all day and
through the night, and when it began to snow, not a word
would he listen to from your brothers or the coachman. I
was in constant fear of us losing our way or being cast into
a drift and freezing to death. Mr. Stafford himself got out of the carriage and guided the horses in the worst of it. We are
fortunate to have made it here at all, miss!”

“That sounds very like Papa,” said Thea, shaking her
head. She recalled what she had thought to be only a dream, the distant sound of banging on a door and raised voices. Obviously what she had heard was the arrival of her willful
parent. “He is obstinate to the teeth.”

“Just so, miss.”

“My uncle and aunt did not say anything at breakfast
concerning my father and brothers,” said Thea with a frown.
“I wonder why.”

The maid overheard her and snorted. “There was much
said between the two gentlemen in the black of the night,
miss! I doubt not that Mr. Stafford and your brothers slept
the sleep of exhaustion this morning and that was why you
did not see them at breakfast. I could scarcely drag myself up out of bed.”

“Poor Hitchins! You must rest today, for I do not wish
you to become ill,” said Thea at once.

The maid thanked her mistress for her kindness. “Howsomever, I shall do better to move around a bit. My bones get stiff with the cold, miss.”

Thea started downstairs with much on her mind. She could not reflect dreamily on Lord Cardiff as she would
have liked, but had to think about what the implications of
her father’s arrival meant for her. It was amply apparent
from all that her maid had told her that her father was deter
mined to have his way. He had declared his course of action,
one which Thea viewed with utter dismay.

She decided that she must be equally resolute in taking her stand. She had come to realize she had a high stake in
her own future. No longer was she the dutiful daughter who
trusted implicitly in the sagacity of her parent. Her father
had unfortunately proven his all-too-human foibles. She
only hoped that her own willfulness was a match for her
sire’s obstinacy.

Her aunt’s suggestion that a season in London would go
far in restoring her reputation had taken deep root in her
mind. Thea was fixed in her determination to take advantage of what had been so generously offered to her. As for the re
port that her father meant to force Lord Cardiff to the altar
with her, she would have none of that, either. If she was ever to accept a suit from Lord Cardiff, it would be one made by
his lordship of his own free will.

Thea wanted above anything else in the world for Lord
Cardiff to look at her again just as he had done earlier that
morning and offer for her because he desired to make her his
wife. She knew that he was supposed to return shortly to
duty in Spain, and she looked upon the snowstorm that had
set back Lord Cardiff’s leave-taking as providential. It
meant that she would have just a little more time to try to fix
his lordship’s interest.

Of course, the arrival of her father and brothers would al
most certainly be an obstacle to her object. Not for the first
time, but perhaps never more fervently, Thea wished her family to perdition. In a most loving way, naturally.

* * * *

Cardiff was wishing much the same thing about one of his devoted servants. He had endured several minutes al
ready of his coachman’s glum outlook regarding their delay
to London. The coachman had enumerated various evils,
ranging from such things as the groom appearing suspi
ciously as though he were taking a cold to the possible
foundering of the highbred team if they were to eat their heads off for several days. Cardiff shook his head, gave a
shrug and spread his hands in mute apology.

“I know it, John. We are indubitably snowbound. Lay the
blame to my door. It was my decision to remain another day.
Stay close to the fire, both you and Mathers, until the
weather is not so threatening. I promise you that we shall get
on the road as soon as we are able.”

He was glad to be able to send his coachman away with
the excuse that it was time for luncheon. The man’s restlessness pricked at his conscience. He should have left the
day before when he had the opportunity, but instead he had
remained because of a half-baked sense of responsibility to
wards Miss Stafford.

His memory replayed for him those incredible moments
with her in the gallery when he had held her tightly in his arms. A glinting smile crossed his tanned face. “Responsibility, Cardiff? More like bewitchment!” he murmured to
himself in self-mockery.

Cardiff emerged from the library, where he had met with
his gloomy servant, and sauntered across the entry hall to
wards the parlor. His attire was better suited to his company
than it had been earlier. He had been able to change his rai
ment, due to the helpfulness of Mr. Owen’s valet, who had
unearthed various selections from the Owens’ sons’
wardrobes that had been left on previous visits. It was fortu
nate that neither of the Owens was as tall as their sire, so that
the bottle-green frock coat and tan breeches he now wore
fitted his own athletic frame well enough. He would not en
tirely disgrace Mrs. Owen’s gracious table, he thought.

Stepping into the parlor where he expected everyone to
gather before luncheon, Cardiff stopped short when his gaze
fell on Philip and Thomas Stafford. The expression on his lean face tightened momentarily before he moved forward.
His tone of voice expressed only a mild curiosity, but his keen eyes were sharp on the two sturdy gentlemen. “Whatever are you two doing here?”

“My lord.” The two brothers shifted their feet and looked uncomfortable. They had both risen to stand at his entrance,
their physical attitudes almost expressing embarrassment.

“Let me hazard a guess. Your esteemed parent has sent
you here to forcibly retrieve your sister and me,” said
Cardiff in a cool voice. He smiled, but there was a steely
hardness in his penetrating blue eyes. “I warn you, I’ll not
stand for such treatment as I endured at your hands for a sec
ond time.”

“You shouldn’t have run off like you did, my lord,” said
Thomas in feeble expostulation.

“Oh, wasn’t it sporting of me?” asked Cardiff in a very
dry tone.

Philip mumbled under his breath as the ready flush rose
in his face.

“What was that, Philip? I did not understand you,” said Cardiff. His glance was challenging, but the young gentle
man did not choose to meet it.

It was left to Thomas to clarify, which he did in a
wounded voice. “You left us in a rare hobble, my lord. We
didn’t have enough between us to pay the shot and we were
obliged to sneak away like thieves.”

“I thought that might happen,” said Cardiff with satisfaction.

Philip clenched his fists, almost beside himself with re
membered ire. “Did you, my lord! And as though that wasn’t
enough, since we suspected Thea would want you to take
her to our great-aunt, we followed you there. We were
forced to endure a regular rake-down from the old tartar,” he
said bitterly.