An Heiress at Heart (35 page)

Lady Thornborough said to Geoffrey, “It is fortunate for us that you did visit the Cardingtons. You have managed to find James and bring him to Rosewood. He has many things here to attend to.”

“From what I can see, you were doing an excellent job without me,” James declared.

Lady Thornborough did not deign to answer his remark, but again addressed Geoffrey. “What a pity that you must leave in two days. I was hoping you might at least stay through Sunday. Our Mr. Hollis is a most
learned man, and his sermons are always educational. Also, his sonorous voice is quite different from our previous vicar, whose warble could barely reach to the back of the church. I am sure you would enjoy it.”

Lizzie wondered whether Geoffrey’s own rich voice had been honed from his years of giving sermons. She would like to have seen him give a sermon. What kinds of things had he preached on? Had he been strict, reproving, judgmental? Before she met him, she would have guessed that was true, having only the knowledge gleaned from Edward to go by. But now she truly wanted to believe he would speak on compassion and kindness instead. Whichever it was, he most likely had his parishioners eating out of his hand.

“I will be sorry to miss it,” Geoffrey said. “Perhaps I may come another time? It is, after all, less than half a day’s ride to my estate.”

“You know you are most welcome anytime,” Lady Thornborough assured him.

“What shall we do this evening?” James said. “Have you managed to practice your piano, Ria? Perhaps you can play for us?”

Lizzie tried to stifle a grimace. “I confess I have not.”

“Naughty girl,” James teasingly scolded. “Aunt tells me you have been out riding every day. I am glad you are benefiting from your newfound friendship with horses, but shouldn’t you be practicing the finer arts as well?”

“I like being outdoors,” Lizzie said, defending herself. “There will be time enough for indoor pursuits when the weather turns cold.” And time enough, she thought, to find some way to obtain surreptitious music lessons. With an exaggerated lift of her eyebrows, she
said haughtily, “And you, sir, are no person to be lecturing me about responsibilities!”

“Right you are!” James laughed. “I have perceived yet another way you have changed during your absence, cousin. You are much better at winning verbal jousts.”

“Thank you.” As Lizzie smiled triumphantly, she caught Geoffrey’s eye. He seemed to be suppressing a bit of a smile.

Lady Thornborough, however, was frowning. “I was not aware that
winning verbal jousts
is a goal toward which a lady should aspire.”

“No, indeed, Grandmamma,” Lizzie said demurely, but braving another quick smile to James.

James sighed in resignation.

“Lord Somerville, perhaps you will tell us about your time in Devonshire?” Lady Thornborough asked. “I understand you are celebrated for your efforts at educating the children, and for establishing a medical clinic. I’m sure we shall be greatly edified by an evening of instruction on doing good to one’s fellow man.”

James rolled his eyes. “There is nothing more enthralling than discussing poor, sick people.”

“I would love to hear about Geoffrey’s work,” Lizzie said.

“Would you really?” He looked pleased.

Lizzie nodded. “You might give us ideas for ways we could help the less fortunate folk who live around here. Perhaps we could even take a ride to some of the surrounding cottages while you’re here. I’ve been wanting to meet more of our tenants.”

“I was, in fact, just thinking,” said Geoffrey, said, “that I might be able to stay through Sunday after all.”

“Splendid!” Lady Thornborough said with hearty approval.

James did not seem to share in this moment of good feeling. He merely said, “Here’s another way in which our Ria has changed—she loves charity work now.” He tilted his head and narrowed his eyes as he studied her. “She’s left off the piano for charity and horses. How odd.”

                                                          
Chapter 33

L
izzie lay awake in the darkness, unable to sleep, her mind filled with all that had happened that day. Geoffrey’s arrival had stirred the longings that she had tried to set aside, the hope that one day she would find a way to get to the truth, and truly win his heart.

Geoffrey had given riveting accounts of Devonshire and his work there. The joy on his face as he discussed teaching his poor parish children to read, opening up a world for them they would not otherwise have had, was thrilling to her heart. She thought she would happily have done the same, if given the opportunity.

She could imagine morning walks with Geoffrey along the steep paths in the wild landscape he had described. Just the two of them, far from the pressures of society, with time and space to talk without hindrance. If only they had met in different circumstances, all these things might have been possible.
No,
Lizzie corrected herself; they would never have met under other circumstances. She’d been a poor shop girl, living in an entirely different
world than his. Now their world was the same, but they could never fully share it.

What was he doing now, she wondered. She pictured him stretched out in his bed, his limbs relaxed, his hair tousled. It was an irresistible vision that made her whole body tremble.

Her thoughts kept returning to their encounter on the hillside that afternoon. Geoffrey had come so close to kissing her again. He would surely have done so, if Lizzie had allowed it. But she knew that she could not be cavorting with her “brother-in-law,” no matter how much she longed to. The truth was that she had had to withdraw, the temptation was too great, and she knew if she kissed him again, nothing could stop her from being swept away by her feelings for this man.

With these thoughts tumbling through her mind, Lizzie was likely to get little sleep this night. She left the bed and went to the window. With a gentle tug she eased it open, just enough to allow fresh air to sift gently into the room and cool her overheated body. She stood there for several minutes, admiring the play of moonlight on the serene fields below. Now as the still of the deep night enveloped her, she regretted that she had denied herself the pleasure of his kiss.

Throughout the evening, Lizzie was sure their brief interlude this afternoon had been uppermost on Geoffrey’s mind as well. It was mostly in a quick glance or a fleeting expression, but she received his meaning as clearly as if he had spoken it aloud—as though he had audibly declared his desire to be back on that hillside, pulling her into his arms. Thank goodness Lady Thornborough hadn’t noticed the way she and Geoffrey had
been trying to suppress their unspoken emotions. James had observed something, however. Lizzie was sure of that. He missed nothing—especially when it came to attractions between men and women.

As they had said their good-nights, Geoffrey had held her hand for a moment too long, looked into her eyes with such questioning earnestness, that she had found it nearly impossible not to say what was on her mind. She wanted to tell him how much she cared for him, how happy she was that he had come to Rosewood, and how wonderfully alive she felt in his presence. Instead, she had merely murmured her good-nights, her body shaking from the effort of hiding her true feelings as she turned away.

Now she stood here, counting the hours until she might see Geoffrey again. He had spoken of being an early riser, of taking long walks in the morning. Lizzie would be up with the dawn, prepared to go out, in the hopes of catching him alone. She knew she was courting danger, but she had to be with him.

She considered that she might distract herself by doing some reading. The ready use of candles long into the night was a luxury she had never known before. Throughout most of her life, candles had to be carefully conserved, being too costly to use other than when strictly necessary. She’d mostly used the cheaper taper candles that did not burn long and did not provide good light for reading. The long-burning wax candles were an indulgence she had enjoyed often since returning to England.

She turned away from the window, lit a candle, and searched for her volume of poetry. It was nowhere to be
seen. She tried to think of where she might have placed it, and realized the last time she had been reading it was earlier that day, just before Geoffrey met her in the meadow. She must have placed the book near the door with her bonnet and shawl when they had come in. She had been so preoccupied with Geoffrey that she hadn’t given the little book a second thought. Since the book had not been returned to her room, Lizzie concluded the servants must have either left it by the door or placed it in the library. After a few moments’ hesitation, she decided to go down and look for it. No one would be about at this hour; she could quickly retrieve the book without fear of being seen in her night clothes.

She put on her dressing gown and a pair of soft slippers, then went to the door and gently turned the latch. The door opened without a sound. She widened the gap just enough to peek her head out. There were no lights visible from under any of the other doors. The house was very quiet. She fancied she heard the great clock in the parlor striking two o’clock. Yes, she was sure of it. The sound was faint, but clear.

She closed the door behind her with care, and made her way down the hall.

*

Geoffrey surveyed a row of books on one of the library shelves. There were plenty to choose from, but he paused when he noticed Ria’s worn book of poetry lying at the far end of the shelf, looking out of place among the more finely bound volumes. He was about to pick it up when he heard the library door open behind him.

He turned, startled, and was completely unprepared
for what he saw. He held up his candle to get a better look. “Ria? Is that you?”

“Geoffrey.” She breathed his name with a soft air of delight. “I thought I saw a light in here.”

She lingered at the door, as though unsure whether to enter. Her hair was down, loose and flowing. The high lace collar of her nightdress was just visible above her tightly sashed dressing gown. The draft from the hallway caused his candle to flicker and throw shadows across her lovely face, which only seemed to lend her an air of mystery.

“I couldn’t sleep,” Geoffrey said, as though in answer to her unstated question. He gestured toward the bookshelves. “I thought some reading might help.”

“I seem to have found myself in the same predicament,” she said with a rueful smile.

“And what has kept you awake, I wonder?” he asked, knowing too well why
he
was here. He had not been able to get her out of his thoughts.

“My mind was so full after our conversation this evening that sleep seemed quite out of the question.”

“Was it?” he said, unable to hide his surprise. “Must have been all those tedious details I related at dinner.”

“Please do not apologize. I enjoyed it very much.” She took a small step forward and said haltingly, “I want you to know how happy I am that you have come to visit.”

“I am glad to hear it,” he said.

“And isn’t it strange that we should meet here, like this?”

“Yes.” Geoffrey set his candlestick on a small reading table, largely because he knew his shaking hand would give him away if he kept holding it. To be alone with Ria
like this had such an unreal quality that he thought perhaps he had drifted off to sleep and was now in the middle of an exquisite dream. He took a deep breath. “Well, we’ll just get our books and be on our way.”

She laughed softly. “Are you worried for my reputation?”

“Of course.”

He could just make out the corners of her mouth as they lifted into a smile. “Perhaps it is
your
reputation we should be concerned about,” she said, her voice lightly teasing. “It is unseemly, sir, to be seen without your coat and cravat. What would James say?”

Only then did Geoffrey realize how disheveled he must look, wearing only his trousers and a loose-fitting shirt. He was in stocking feet, too, having left his boots in his room so as to make no sound as he descended the stairs to the library. He reached up to close the opening at his shirt collar, feeling foolishly self-conscious as he did so. “I really must apologize for—”

His words died on his lips as her eyes met his. The look she gave him held such love and longing that he knew in an instant what he had only dared hope was true.

Geoffrey had always done the right thing, the proper thing. Especially where women were concerned. His attempts at courtship with Lucinda were proof of that. But his soul had always cried out to find a love that was deep and true—a love that was nothing short of the melding of two minds and two hearts. He had never been able to give this hope a voice or a name, having no idea how he would even recognize it. Now, as he looked at Ria, he knew with absolute certainty what it was.

In two strides he was across the room. He took her in
his arms and she looked up at him. Something like fear tangled with the yearning in her eyes. He could not bear to see it, so he did the only thing that would stop him from looking at her. He kissed her.