An Heiress at Heart (23 page)

The strains of another waltz drifted from the ballroom. Lizzie closed her eyes and sank into the music, attempting to assuage her buffeted soul in the gently measured meter. She rocked back and forth, moving instinctively in rhythm with the waltz. Such light and uplifting music, recalling memories of the night in Vienna when she’d heard a full orchestra for the very first time. It was so exuberant and joyful, she’d felt as if she was soaring.

“Mrs. Somerville, may I say again what a pleasure it was to meet you this evening.” Freddie’s unwelcome voice pierced the music and brought her back to the present.

Lizzie’s eyes flew open. “Oh, gracious, Mr. Hightower, you startled me.” She punctuated her statement
with a light laugh. “It appears my silly thoughts were wandering elsewhere.”

“I should like to know where they were,” he replied. “Any reasonable thoughts should be ashamed to desert your pretty head.”

His bland compliments did not fool Lizzie, but they must, of course, charm
Ria.
She tittered again. “Where would you have my thoughts to be, Mr. Hightower?”

His eyes glinted. “I would selfishly have them right here in London—perhaps fondly remembering the
new acquaintances
you made tonight. I, for one, am glad to have finally met the charming cousin of my good friend Mr. James Simpson.”

Lizzie opened her fan and waived it delicately. “Oh?” she said with the barest hint of disinterest. “I don’t believe he ever mentioned you.”

“Perhaps not,” Freddie allowed. “However, he told me many things about
you
.” He spoke casually, but he continued to take in every detail of her appearance. “I shall take him to task, however, for failing to do you justice in his descriptions. Perhaps, since he is like a brother to you, he is unable to perceive certain of your more alluring qualities.”

Lizzie gave him a coquettish smile. “I have been informed of your reputation as a ladies’ man, Mr. Hightower. Will you attempt to win me over as well?”

“I could gladly give my life to such an endeavor.”

There was no denying that Freddie was a handsome man. His smile could melt the resistance of even the most hardened female. Lizzie found it too easy to remember how it had once affected her. Opposing memories fought for preeminence in her heart.

“However, it would be unseemly of me to make too many pleasantries,” Freddie said, his look turning sober. “You are, after all, a grieving widow.”

His remark unsettled Lizzie, as it was no doubt intended to do. Had she been flirting too strenuously to be taken for a real widow? Sharply she reminded herself that Freddie was a master at manipulation. “I do grieve,” she said with the air of one who is imparting a confidence to a dear friend. “But it has been two years now, and…” She sighed heavily. “I am resigned to it. My dear grandmamma has encouraged me to look to the future.”

“Very sensible, I am sure,” Freddie said. “Then I shall hold out hope that, at some point in the future, we may share a dance.” With a sly smile he added, “I saw you swaying to the music just now. I see you enjoy the music
very
much.”

Again, Lizzie easily understood him. Just now he had seen her respond to the music as he had so many times in Vienna. They’d return to their private rooms after a concert, and she would still be in raptures, humming the melody and dancing about blissfully. Lizzie would have to be careful to control this impulse from now on, and to downplay how much the music meant to her.

“The melody is nice enough, I suppose,” she said in a casually dismissive tone. “However, I have been feeling faint all evening, and I believe that was the cause of my, ah,
swaying
.”

“Then you mustn’t remain standing here,” he said. “Will you allow me to bring you a chair? Or perhaps take you home? I have a carriage.”

Lizzie knew exactly what happened to women who rode home in Freddie’s carriage. Fortunately, Geoffrey
arrived in time to spare her the necessity of declining his offer. “You needn’t concern yourself, Hightower,” he said. “I will be taking Mrs. Somerville home. The carriage is at the door.”

“Lord Somerville, you’ve arrived just in time,” Freddie said with feigned relief. “I am sure Mrs. Somerville will be most grateful for your assistance.”

The two men eyed one another, their mutual dislike easily breaching the thin veneer of polite words.

Freddie looked away first. He bowed to Lizzie. “I shall bid you good evening, Mrs. Somerville. I do hope that we shall meet again soon.”

“Thank you, Mr. Hightower. I look forward to it.”

Her words may have fooled Geoffrey, for she saw him grimace at this remark. But she had no confidence she had fooled Freddie. With a brief nod and an arrogant smile, he turned and walked away.

Geoffrey offered his arm, and Lizzie took it gratefully. They sifted through the crowd in the receiving hall and walked down the steps to the waiting carriage. A cool breeze welcomed them, tingling along Lizzie’s neck and shoulders like a call to freedom. She was making her escape from Freddie.

For now.

She would just have to take each round of trouble as it came.

Geoffrey took the seat opposite her in the carriage as the footman closed the door. When Lizzie was settled, he gave a light tap to the roof with his cane, and the carriage pulled forward.

Through the window Lizzie saw a young woman making her way down the street, wrapping an inadequate
shawl around her shoulders, her poorly shod feet slipping on the wet cobblestones. Her heart went out to the girl.
That once was me,
she thought. She remembered walking down these streets, watching the passing carriages, envying the people within. They had not a care in the world, she had thought then. How wrong she had been.

Her musings were interrupted by Geoffrey. “Are you feeling better now, Ria?”

She nodded. “I can breathe again.”

“Was Hightower being too forward with you? Did his attentions upset you?”

Yes! Freddie may yet destroy my life, after I thought I was free of him.

She could not say this, of course. “Don’t trouble yourself on his account,” she said. “The whole evening was… rather taxing, that’s all.” It was a woefully inadequate description, but she wanted to assuage his concerns.

He did not look convinced. “I hope you will stay clear of Hightower in the future. Do not cultivate his acquaintance.”

“Can we please not discuss Mr. Hightower?” she said sharply. Her frazzled nerves could not take much more.

“I will happily comply with that request,” Geoffrey said. “But you were enjoying yourself earlier in the evening, I’m sure of it.” He gave her a self-effacing smile. “Was it my dancing that did you in?”

This unexpected pleasantry warmed Lizzie’s heart. “Honestly, Geoffrey. I believe you have spent too much time with James.”

“The man can wear off on people, I suppose,” he replied.

“Actually,” Lizzie said, “I was surprised at how well you dance. I was not expecting that at all.”

“It has been a night of surprises, I think.” Something in the way he said this sounded quite different. Wistful, almost.

“Yes, it has,” Lizzie agreed. She wondered what about the evening had surprised him.

“I suppose Edward never mentioned that we were all three raised with rigorous lessons in dancing and etiquette. Of course, I was not called upon to use those skills very much. At least, not until recently.”

Lizzie saw him tense as he said this, and she knew it was a reference to the loss of his brothers. Her heart did a strange, painful flip in her chest. “You acquitted yourself very well,” she said quietly.

He gave her a brief, grateful smile. “Ria, I’d like to ask you something, and I hope you do not think me too forward or impertinent. I’d like to—” He interrupted himself with a grimace. “You can tell me if I’ve no right to ask this question.”

This unexpected change of tack left her with some trepidation, but she said, “Of course. You may ask me anything.”

“I want to know—that is, I was wondering—what made you fall in love with Edward? How did you know he was the one?”

The question took Lizzie utterly by surprise. She stared at him, openmouthed.

Still apologetic, Geoffrey continued, “You are no doubt surprised to hear this question coming from me. It’s just that with all the talk of marriages this evening, I realized that, well, you and Edward clearly found
something, and for the first time in my life I truly want to know what that is.”

He looked so vulnerable just then, his face displaying the very same need that Lizzie felt within her soul, the desperate need for someone to confide in. She wished she could delve into this man’s heart, return the joy to his face that she’d seen when they’d danced, erase the pain that overtook him whenever they spoke of the past. Above all, she wished she could answer his question.
How did you know he was the one?
She could only repeat the words Ria had used when she had tried to explain it to Lizzie.

“Oh, Geoffrey,” she sighed. “It began with William, of course. I did think I loved him at first. You see, I was very young, and he had all that lordly swagger, and I was swept away with the idea of marrying a man with a title. But then, as I began to know Edward, he kept pressing me, asking me did I really love William, and did William really love me. I was indignant, of course. But when I put the question to William, he answered nonchalantly that he was naturally very fond of me and that I was
suitable
enough for a wife. I challenged him and said, can you expect me to pledge heart and soul to someone who thinks I am merely
suitable
?”

A few weeks ago, Lizzie thought, her words might have stirred up a lecture from Geoffrey on the importance of doing one’s duty. But something had changed; she could sense it. Tonight she had touched quite a different nerve.

“You were right in what you told William,” he said. “I certainly would not wish that for anyone.”

The carriage came to a stop. The lights from the
mansion shone through the carriage window, illuminating his face. Geoffrey leaned forward and took one of her hands in his. The carriage seemed unaccountably small. Lizzie could not speak, could not think of anything beyond his touch, the solid breadth of him so near her. “I can see now that Edward was truly the wiser of the two.” His voice was low, and rough with emotion.

He drew her hand closer to him, and kissed it.

All sound and motion faded to a breathless hush. As Geoffrey’s lips brushed Lizzie’s thin gloves, she recalled Mrs. Paddington’s words:
“What a pity she cannot marry Lord Somerville…”

What would it be like to be married to this man? How dearly she would love to know.

She reached out with her free hand and gently caressed his hair. He leaned his head into her touch as though seeking more of it.

If only we could stay here forever,
she thought.
If only this moment could withstand everything that has happened and all that will inevitably come.

The footman opened the door, and the cool night air rushed into the carriage. Startled, Lizzie drew back. Geoffrey straightened and dropped her hand. She was sure the footman had seen their closeness and their guilt, but he was too well trained to let on. He averted his gaze and stood back, allowing them room to exit.

Geoffrey stepped down to the street and turned to reach up for Lizzie’s hand. Although the mask of propriety had fallen back into place, Geoffrey’s touch still did unimaginable things, sending a vibrant rush of desire through every part of Lizzie’s being.

He brought her up the steps and into the main hall.
Lizzie’s head and heart were bursting with all the things she could not say. She murmured, “Thank you for bringing me home.”

“It was my pleasure.” They were simple words, but Lizzie saw their meaning. “Ria…” He was looking at her with such intense warmth that Lizzie found it difficult to breathe.

“Yes?”

But their solitude was gone. Whatever might have been said in the coach, when their hearts had connected so perfectly, could not be spoken here, in a well-lighted entry hall before the servants. He gave her a small smile. “Good night.”

As Lizzie watched the door close behind him, she knew beyond a doubt that she was in love with this man. The knowledge weighed heavily on her, for it only made the decisions before her so much harder.

She made her way up to her room, her heart tossed by wave after wave of contradictory emotions as she considered the terrible choices before her, and where they might lead. She could keep pretending to be Ria, hoping to withstand Freddie’s suspicions and questioning. But he would be an ever-present threat, a cloud ready to break open a torrent of misery. If by some miracle she maintained her ruse, she would never be able to reveal her true self to Geoffrey. There would forever be this one last barrier between them. When she had cast herself into the role of Ria, she never dreamed her heart might dare to open again… to the one man who was now denied her.

If Freddie had his way, he would once again ruin her life by his hateful actions. Even worse, Geoffrey’s discovery of the truth would come at Freddie’s doing, and
not by her own admission. This left her with a second terrible choice: to reveal herself before Freddie could do it. That would surely mean losing Geoffrey, for he would learn not only that she had been lying to him, but that she was covering up a disgraceful past as well. She had Geoffrey’s esteem now, and his friendship; he was beginning to care for her deeply. All those things would vanish once he knew the truth. Of all the dire consequences that threatened her, this was the worst.

She was gloomily pondering these things as Martha helped her undress and prepare for bed. “I’ll bet you were the loveliest lady there tonight,” Martha said as she took down Lizzie’s hair and began brushing out the curls. “I’ll bet you were the grandest success at the ball.”

“Was I? I don’t know.” She truly was Cinderella, she thought bitterly. Her life was returning to ashes.

“Come now, it’s not like you to be so modest,” Martha said with a chiding grin.