An Heiress at Heart (31 page)

Geoffrey threw his cigar away sharply, his anger rising. “How dare you insult Ria!” Every nerve was in revolt against this man who had not the slightest idea of common decency.

Hightower met his wrath with a look of smug satisfaction. “I suppose you feel it your duty to defend her honor? What will you do? Challenge me to a duel?” He laughed derisively. “I can tell you
that’s
been tried already.”

Geoffrey grabbed Hightower’s coat, forcing him from the railing.

A look of panic flashed across Hightower’s face, but he said coolly, “I cannot believe you would stoop to violence, Somerville. Have you already forgotten everything you stood for as a clergyman?”

“A clergyman,” Geoffrey said fiercely, gripping Hightower tighter and shaking him, “stands up for what is right.”

“Does he?” Hightower returned. “Well, then, perhaps you had better give up your claim to the title. I can’t help but suspect you’ve been stepping over that line between right and wrong.”

Geoffrey was a hair’s breadth from punching Hightower when James pushed himself between them. Apparently the altercation was beginning to bring him back
to sobriety. “Gentlemen, calm yourselves. Do you want everyone to know what you are doing out here?”

Geoffrey let go of Hightower. He took a step back, upbraiding himself for losing his temper, and silently cursing the man who had deliberately caused him to do it. He would not allow the man to dictate his actions.

Hightower straightened his coat and his cravat. “I thought you would see reason,” he said, his smug expression returning.

Geoffrey kept himself in check. “I merely realized that your suggestion is preposterous,” he said evenly. “Why would Ria have come back to London, but not tell anyone she was here? It must have been someone who looked like her.”

“Now
there’s
an interesting supposition,” Hightower said. “If there is a woman who looks so much like Ria that one could pass for the other…” He tilted his head toward the ballroom. “Then who is the woman inside?” He turned to James. “You’re Ria’s cousin. You were playfellows growing up. You are the only one of us who actually knew Ria then. Is that woman Ria?”

James looked completely taken aback. “What an outlandish question. I should think I know my own cousin. She talks like Ria, remembers the silly games we used to play together. She knew the names of all the old servants who have been with us since we were babes.”

“And does she look
exactly
like Ria?” Hightower asked.

“She was a mere girl when she left. She is a woman now.”

“So there
are
differences?” Hightower pressed.

“Freddie,” James warned, “I will not allow you to go
around publicly insinuating that my cousin is not who she says she is. It would ruin her reputation, and it would utterly crush Aunt Thornborough.”

“I do not care a whit about your high-and-mighty aunt,” said Hightower caustically. “However, I do not intend to tell anyone. I shall bide my time. If I discover she is
not
Ria, then she and I will have unfinished business to attend to.”

The sinister edge to Hightower’s voice was unmistakable. At moments like this, Geoffrey could believe every one of the whispered stories about what Hightower had done to his wife. The thought that Hightower might attempt some physical harm to Ria was far more harrowing than Geoffrey’s previous concern that the man was simply dallying with her. He was not about to let anything happen to Ria.

Geoffrey walked away without another word, leaving the other two men on the terrace. He searched the ballroom and adjoining rooms looking for Ria. He had to talk to her, to see her once more. Hightower’s words had launched dangerous ideas into his head, and he needed to reassure himself, regain solid footing.

But she was already gone.

                                                          
Chapter 29

T
he carriage slowed as it entered the long drive to Rosewood Manor. Lizzie was taking in little of her surroundings, however; she was trying to sort out the tangled web her life had become. Months ago when she’d envisioned this day, she’d seen herself firmly ensconced as Ria and poised to prove she was a Thornborough. She seemed to be reaching that goal. How could she have foreseen all the events that would make this a hollow victory?

Soon she would have to make a choice. She had to rethink her decision to reveal herself, now that she knew Tom was alive. There seemed to be no good way out. Amid the multitude of her concerns about Tom, Freddie, and the letters, had been the most perplexing thing of all: what was happening between her and Geoffrey.

During the long drive from London, Lizzie had relived those moments in the moonlight with Geoffrey a thousand times: the warmth of his arms around her; his kisses filled with a heady blend of tenderness and desire. He was in love with her—she was sure of it.

He had to be feeling guilt over his attraction to his supposed sister-in-law.
We can’t let this happen again,
he had said. Lizzie had readily agreed. She did not want him to stay away for fear that it might go further. She wanted more than anything to see him again.

“Ria!” Lady Thornborough brought Lizzie’s thoughts back to the carriage. “You have not heard a word I’ve spoken.”

Had Lady Thornborough been speaking to her? She looked guiltily at the old woman sitting next to her.

“Your head appears to be in the clouds,” Lady Thornborough chided. “Perhaps you should bring it down to earth. We are nearly to Rosewood.”

“I’m sorry, Grandmamma.” Lizzie gave her an apologetic smile. Truly, Lady Thornborough ought to have been her first concern. She had promised Ria that she would do all she could to make Lady Thornborough happy. Was she at least accomplishing this? She could not resist asking, “Grandmamma, are you happy with me?”

The question came out sounding a bit forlorn, and it clearly took Lady Thornborough by surprise. “Goodness, child. Whatever brought that on?”

“I want to be a good granddaughter to you.”

“Of course I am happy with you. What a strange question.” Her voice was brusque. Lady Thornborough was not one to show emotions easily, as Lizzie was discovering. Her thin lips turned to a hint of a smile. “I will admit,” she added, “that you are not such a handful as you used to be.”

Lizzie put her arm affectionately through Lady Thornborough’s. “You say that as if it were a bad thing,” she teased.

She sighed and squeezed Lizzie’s hand. “You are not as lighthearted as you once were, but given all that has happened, it’s understandable. Perhaps, in time…”

“Perhaps,” Lizzie agreed, not wanting to disturb her with doubts. Trouble was, Lizzie did not know how much time she had left.

She turned her gaze to the carriage window. Now she took note of the stately oaks lining the drive and the mansion that was rising up before them as they drew closer. Rosewood Manor looked exactly as Ria’s mother had painted it all those years ago. The immense stone building stood like an elegant old lady, trimmed with a multicolored coat of rosebushes and laced with vines bursting with vibrant blooms. All was loveliness and serenity. To think of growing up in this place! Even Ria’s effusive praise had been inadequate. It was beyond words.

Lady Thornborough said, “Are you content, my dear?”

“It is so lovely,” Lizzie murmured, her troubles temporarily assuaged by the peaceful landscape. “So lovely.”

“Well, then, it’s true that absence makes the heart grow fonder. You used to complain about this ‘sorry old place’ where there was nothing to do and no company but the dogs.”

“Did I?” Lizzie was unable to keep the surprise from her voice. The carriage passed a charming rose-covered trellis that provided just a glimpse of pathway beyond. Lizzie imagined it leading to a garden overflowing with roses of every conceivable color. “How foolish I was.”

The wheels crunched on the gravel as the carriage moved at a stately pace. At the sound of their approach, two dozen servants spilled out the front door and formed
two rows on either side of the entrance, the men on one side and the women on the other.

“I expect you’ll see some familiar faces there,” Lady Thornborough said.

A tall woman of about sixty walked down the line of servants, making sure everyone was in their place. She was a thin woman with an angular face and a large nose. She wore a plain black dress, and a bundle of keys hung from her side. This had to be Rosewood’s housekeeper.

Lizzie took a deep breath. Now was the time to say something. If she was wrong, Lady Thornborough could correct her before she made a fool of herself in front of the servants. It was also a chance for her to show some of the lightheartedness Lady Thornborough seemed to wish for. “Mrs. Carter is older than I remember, but she certainly hasn’t managed to find any more meat for her bones.”

“Indeed,” said Lady Thornborough with a short laugh. Lizzie laughed, too, although the game of coming up with names no longer thrilled her as it once had. Now it was just a necessary and unavoidable task.

The carriage came to a stop, and a footman opened the door. Lady Thornborough stepped majestically from the carriage, and the servants applauded their welcome.

Once the applause had died down, the footman helped Lizzie from the carriage. She took her place next to Lady Thornborough and surveyed the two lines in front of them.

All was silent.

Lizzie stood on the gravel drive as nearly thirty pairs of eyes studied her.

Her heart seemed to tick off the seconds as the silence lengthened. All at once it was broken by a collective intake
of breath, followed by vigorous applause and cheering. Lizzie beamed, nodding her head in acknowledgment of the greeting as Lady Thornborough had done. Her gaze landed on the housekeeper. “Mrs. Carter,” she said, “I’m so glad to see you again.”

The woman stepped forward and inclined her head. “Welcome home, madam.”

Every servant bowed or curtseyed as Lizzie and Lady Thornborough proceeded down the row. Lizzie kept a congenial smile on her face as she searched her memory for any descriptions Ria had given her that might help her put names to the faces.

One man caught her particular interest. He was short and wiry and clad in a rough tweed suit and thick boots. He held a worn cloth cap in his calloused hands. He was nearly bald, and the few remaining wisps of reddish gold hair at the back of his wrinkled head were fading to gray. A strong smell of tobacco emanated from his person, underlain by a scent of horses.

“Hello, Mr. Jarvis,” Lizzie said.

The man smiled widely, showing teeth badly stained from too much smoking. “A pleasure to see you again, madam, I’m sure.”

With so much uncertainty about what she would do and so much hinging on her decisions, Lizzie thought riding might provide some relief from the worries pressing in on her. She longed for the freedom of once more riding swiftly over an open field. “I am happy to report, Mr. Jarvis, that I have recovered from my fear of horses, and I am anxious to learn to ride. Perhaps one day soon you might introduce me to one of your good mares?”

Jarvis’s yellow smile managed to grow even wider. “I
have just the one. A beautiful bay mare, plenty of spirit, but easy to handle.”

Lady Thornborough took Lizzie’s arm. “Come, dear. I am exhausted and I need my tea.”

When they reached the entry hall, they stood for a few moments to accustom themselves to its dimness after the bright sun. Once Lizzie’s eyes had adjusted, she took in all that was around her. They were standing on a magnificent tiled floor of contrasting black and white stone. To their right, a grand staircase swept upward to a spacious landing. Every side of the broad hall was lined with large oak doors leading to other rooms. The entrance hall alone was larger than most of her previous homes. Even the five-story town house in London could not compare to this.
Oh, Ria,
Lizzie thought,
your descriptions did not do justice to the place at all.

“Grandmamma, I want to reacquaint myself with the whole house right now—every inch of it!” Lizzie exclaimed.

“Come upstairs and wash up first,” Lady Thornborough directed. “You will have plenty of time to look around after tea.”

“I feel compelled to point out, Grandmamma, that if you had acquiesced to riding the train, we could have been here hours ago.”

“Those smoky, dangerous things?” Lady Thornborough made a noise that in a person of less regal bearing might have been described as a snort of derision. “There are some who would say I have already lived a long and productive life; nevertheless, I plan to do everything in my power to extend it further.”

Lizzie was growing very fond of these bits of humor
that sometimes managed to escape Lady Thornborough’s frosty exterior. At least, Lizzie thought with a twinge of guilt, her love for the woman was one thing that was
not
a pretense.

Lady Thornborough was all business again as she asked the housekeeper whether their luggage had arrived.

Mrs. Carter nodded. “Yes, my lady. Hortense has seen to your gowns. They are pressed and laid out for this evening.”