An Heiress at Heart (25 page)

At least she was a good conversationalist. She was fascinated by science and its practical applications. Once she even spoke in great detail of the effects the Lord
Mayor’s new sanitation plans would have on the health of the London populace. Geoffrey enjoyed speaking with a woman who had more on her mind than gossip and the latest fashions. She even had a good understanding of the Bible. She asked him many questions and seemed genuinely interested in the answers. Geoffrey could not help being impressed at her intellectual curiosity in so many matters.

The more Geoffrey thought about it, the more he realized that there was much to recommend Miss Cardington, and many indications she could successfully fill the role of Baroness Somerville. But would she make a good
wife
? Could he truly and deeply love her? He could not stop thinking about Ria, about the things she had told him during the carriage ride home. If he married Miss Cardington, would he be guilty of marrying someone he thought was only
suitable
?

Geoffrey tried to imagine the two of them together as one flesh. He tried to imagine his heart as wide open as it had been with Ria, remembering the intense pleasure he’d gotten just from her nearness, from kissing her hand, from the way she had stroked his hair. But his mind was a blank. He could only picture Miss Cardington as he saw her now, very prim and proper, stiffly corseted, wearing clothes that seemed somehow wrong for her.

“Lord Somerville?” She was again attempting to recapture his thoughts.

He smiled sheepishly. “I’m afraid I must beg your pardon again.”

Geoffrey had discovered that Miss Cardington was sensitive to anything that gave the appearance of a slight. Her smile faded. When the eagerness of conversation left
her face, her looks went from passingly pretty to verging on plain.

With forced cheerfulness he said, “I was just remembering that there is a new exhibit that has recently arrived, very late, from France. Would you like to see it?”

Miss Cardington’s face brightened, and her eyes managed to evince a twinkle. “I would like that very much.”

Perhaps Ria’s outlook had been too simplistic, Geoffrey thought. This was more than a question of mere suitability. He would not be guilty of the shallow-mindedness William had shown. Hadn’t he already known, long before Ria’s return, that he was looking for more than a mere paper doll who was cut to fit society’s expectations?

As they crossed the stone bridge to the Crystal Palace, Geoffrey reminded himself that love was something that grew with time. It often reached its fullness
after
marriage, not before. It might take time, but he was sure that he and Miss Cardington could build a satisfying relationship.

At least, he thought he was sure.

                                                          
Chapter 24

L
izzie stared in amazement at the giant stuffed elephant. It stood a full ten feet high, but looked taller due to the ornate sedan chair, called a howdah, that had been placed on its back.

Lizzie and James had been at the Great Exhibition for several hours, enjoying the vast array of exhibits from all over the world. Now as they stood in the section devoted to India, Lizzie took in every detail of the magnificent howdah, which was made of colorful cloth and polished silver.

“What an incredible ride that would be!” James remarked. “Perhaps someday I’ll go to India and ride on an elephant.”

Lizzie laughed. “I can easily imagine you on one of those things, looking as though you were the raja himself.”

“Especially if I had a beautiful Indian princess with me,” James agreed. “She would be dressed in sheer silks from head to foot, with a very thin veil over the bottom of
her face…” He pulled out a handkerchief to demonstrate. “Showing just the top half of her lovely, almond-brown face. Only her mysterious dark eyes would be visible, luring me to give up everything I possessed in order to fulfill her every whim.”

Lizzie’s laugh turned to a disbelieving chuckle. “I cannot imagine you as a slave to any woman.”

He gave her a wink. “That’s because I am a slave to them all.”

They moved on to other exhibits. The sheer size of the place was breathtaking. Lizzie had initially worried that she might come across someone who would recognize her, as old Ben Weathers had done at the Prince’s Cottages, but as the morning wore on and they traveled the vast hall without incident, Lizzie began to relax. Today, when the admission prices were at their highest, very few from the working classes were in attendance.

It was not until they made their way up a wide staircase to the upper galleries and looked over the railing to view the spectacle below that Lizzie thought she spotted someone she knew. A young lady in a drab working-class dress was looking up at her. She looked to be in her early twenties, and Lizzie thought she bore a strong resemblance to Molly, the granddaughter of Ben Weathers.

After the surprise of meeting the girl’s eyes, Lizzie looked away quickly. She could not be sure, of course. It had been years since she’d seen the girl. She shook her head and took a breath. She must have imagined it. She’d been thinking too much about Ben Weathers. She turned her gaze back to where the girl had been standing. The sun shone brilliantly through the glass roof, bathing hundreds of exhibits and the colorful clothes of the visitors
in an intense, refracted light. The girl in the plain brown dress was gone.

“It’s magnificent, isn’t it?” James said, mistaking Lizzie’s actions as admiration of the view.

“Yes,” Lizzie murmured. She looked again at the crowds below. She thought she saw a glimpse of a brown dress behind a statue. She felt no small sense of irony as she added, “It’s almost too much for the eye to take in at one time.”

“Interesting that you should say that,” James said. “Allow me to show you my favorite part of this entire place.”

He led her to a spot that, judging from the size of the crowd, was very popular. The people were inspecting what appeared to be miniature drawings laid against a black velvet backdrop. A small group moved away as Lizzie and James approached, and now Lizzie could see that the items on display were not drawings at all.

Lizzie drew in for a closer look. The images were breathtaking. The one directly in front of her, which showed a woman seated on a plain wooden chair, was more true to life than any drawing. “What are these?” she asked, marveling.

James beamed. “A lot has happened while you were in Australia, cousin. These are photographs.” He led her to an object that looked to Lizzie like a simple wooden box. “This captures the true image of the object on what is called a negative, which can then be reproduced multiple times.”

James’s excitement was plain as he walked her back to the display of photographs. “These are daguerreotypes,” he explained. “They have glass negatives.” He pointed to
the first images they had been looking at. “And these are calotypes, which have paper negatives.”

Lizzie nodded, although she could not comprehend his meaning. She examined the photographs with fascination. There were many scenes of trees or buildings or city streets, but it was the photographs of people that intrigued her most.

“It’s like looking at the actual person,” Lizzie said in awe. “Not just an artist’s rendering.” She studied the face of the woman in the picture. “I must say, however, the photograph does not flatter the woman the way an artist could.”

James laughed. “You have hit the crux of the matter, my dear. These images are just like looking in a mirror. They show the person as he or she actually is.”

“What a dangerous idea,” said a voice behind them.

“Freddie!” James cried with delight.

While concentrating on the photographs, Lizzie had temporarily forgotten all else. Now Freddie’s presence returned all her cares to the forefront of her mind—including her unease about the girl she’d seen a few minutes ago. Was it Molly? It appeared the day was not to be without its troubles after all.

She kept her eyes on the picture in front of her, stealing a few seconds to gather her wits.

“I suspected I might run into you today,” Freddie said to James. “I am overjoyed to see you’ve brought your charming cousin with you.”

Lizzie had known she would face Freddie again at some point. This was sooner rather than later, but she was prepared. She
would
keep up her masquerade. She took a deep breath, pasted on a smile, and turned to face him.

He looked her up and down, appraising her bonnet, black shawl, and deep burgundy gown with particular interest, in a way that made her want to slap his face. How dare he look at her like that now—after all he’d done to her? But she would not allow him take away her self-control. She tipped her head. “Mr. Hightower, how nice to see you again.”

Freddie shook James’s hand. “Found anything… interesting?” he asked, his voice lewdly suggestive.

“Nothing of
that
variety today,” James replied. “But then, I’ve been busy escorting Ria.”

“Of course.” Freddie turned back to Lizzie. “James has been finding attendance at the Great Exhibition to be a most efficacious way to meet some of the prettiest—and wealthiest—ladies in England.”

“As have you,” James countered with a grin.

“True.” Freddie agreed. “They have come here from literally every corner of this sceptered isle. As they stand gazing at these magnificent exhibits, it is alarmingly easy to strike up a conversation.”

Lizzie tried to tamp down her disgust, and her disappointment in James. She knew James was a ladies’ man and an incorrigible flirt, but she did not like to think he was in the same vile league as Freddie. No, she did not believe he would actually leer at a woman the way Freddie was doing right now. His gaze raked over her again. “Of course, with his lovely cousin at his side, I can well understand why James has noticed no one else.”

“Why, Mr. Hightower, you are just full of compliments.” She transferred her look to James. “My cousin could learn a lot from you. He never compliments me nearly enough.”

“I don’t need to,” James retorted. “There are plenty of volunteers like Freddie to do it for me.”

Freddie continued to study her. “I overheard your comment about the lack of flattery in those calotypes. They do give a shockingly accurate picture. But consider this.” He leaned in. “The image is preserved forever. How unfortunate that photography was invented after you left England. I should like to have seen a photograph of you from back then.”

He was testing her, hoping perhaps that she would show relief that there were no photographs of Ria. “It
is
unfortunate, isn’t it?” she agreed. “Ten years ago I was in the bloom of youth. Now I am a poor widow, and so old.”

“That’s not true,” said James. “You are more beautiful than ever. I don’t need a photograph to prove that.”

“James, you are a dear.” Lizzie took his arm. “Now, what were you telling me about calotypes and negatives? I’m such a silly little thing. Whatever you told me went right out of my head the moment Mr. Hightower joined us.” She favored Freddie with a bright smile.

Freddie gave a slight nod of his head, as though conceding the first round to an opponent.

James did not need additional encouragement. He launched into a dissertation of the advantages of calotypes over daguerreotypes. Somehow he had amassed a remarkably large amount of information on the subject. At any other time Lizzie might have been pleasantly diverted by this discovery that James, the dissolute playboy, had found something so technical to capture his interest.

But today, Lizzie was more attuned to Freddie while they moved through the exhibit, aware of the way he
watched her as she pretended to study the photographs. She kept throwing furtive glances among the crowd, keeping an eye out for the woman she thought was Molly. At least with James lecturing them on the details of what they were viewing, there was no need to make further conversation.

Finally they reached the last of the photographs. “Shall we go for some refreshment?” Freddie suggested. “I imagine you have spent the morning walking all over this overgrown greenhouse. Mrs. Somerville might fancy a rest and something to drink.”

James looked chagrinned. “Here I’ve been talking my head off about photography, not perceiving that my poor cousin was fading away.”

“I’m not so weak as all that,” Lizzie said. “But I wouldn’t mind sitting for a few minutes.”

They made their way down the stairs and over to the area where the refreshment stands were located. “There is the most delicious lemonade here,” James said. “You two enjoy a rest while I get the drinks.”

“No!” Lizzie blurted out. James looked at her in surprise. Freddie smirked. “That is, it will take you forever,” she amended, pointing to the long line stemming from the lemonade stand.

“I insist,” James said. “I shan’t be long. I am very good friends with the young lady who works there.”

James sauntered off and began skirting the long line. Freddie led Lizzie to a table located under one of the large elm trees. The roof in this section had been designed as a high arch to accommodate the trees. Sunlight poured through the roof and flitted down through the leaves as though they were outside.