Rhonda Woodward (16 page)

“Well, I may store some of the furniture and—and things. Heaton, despite its grandness, seemed so open and airy. The lack of fussiness has given me a few ideas.”

Mariah could scarce believe it. Evidently Heaton had worked a spell over her mother as well.

“But that is unimportant,” Mama continued. “Maybe a change of scenery will do you good. But promise me if an eligible friend of the duke’s—”

The powerful yet indefinable emotion that had been growing inside her since leaving Heaton suddenly burst from Mariah so quickly that she could do nothing to stop it.

“Mama, please! Does it not make any difference to you what happened at Heaton? Can you not forget your desire to see me married to a title? Everyone there sees us as parvenus, as mushrooms! I would rather spend the rest of my life alone than ever again place myself in the position of having a man like Lord Stothart insult me so grievously. He believed I should be
grateful
for his disgusting attention because he perceived me as a grasping nobody.”

Seeing the look of stunned surprise on her mother’s face only spurred her passionate outburst. She continued, her voice trembling with the intensity of her emotion. “It would have been a future too mortifying to contemplate to have the Earl of Haverstone marry me because my dowry proved too much of a temptation against his gambling debts. And it would have been just as bad to have taken advantage of his kindness toward me after Lord Stothart’s loutish behavior. Mama, I beg you to set aside this ridiculous pursuit of a title at the price of my dignity. Our time at Heaton taught me something I shall never forget—I may not have any chance of happiness in the future, but I refuse to let go of my chance for peace.” Spent, Mariah leaned back in the chair and turned from her mother’s astounded gaze to stare into the flames leaping in the fireplace.

Uncaring that her mother was about to ring a peal over her head for such impertinence, Mariah felt an odd sense of relief wash through her body at finally verbalizing some of the frustration that had been building within her for so long.

A tense silence hung between mother and daughter for some moments. When she could no longer tolerate the silence, Mariah sent an anxious glance to her mother. The look of surprise and concern on her face took Mariah aback.

“I had no idea that you felt this strongly about my desire for you to marry well,” her mother said softly.

Mariah shrugged and held her hands up in a defeated gesture. “I was never happy about it, but I never wanted to quarrel with you. Now I can no longer be silent. The earl’s house party changed everything.”

“Yes, I believe it did,” Mrs. Thorncroft said, nodding her head slowly. “I never meant to hurt you, my dear, but I see now that I pushed too hard. It is just that you are so beautiful and sweet and intelligent, I could not bear to see you marry a mere mister.”

“Oh, Mama.” She did not know what to say as tears clogged her throat.

Mrs. Thorncroft bit her lip and looked very near to tears herself. “Now no need to cry after you have stated your piece so well. ’Tis all very simple, my love—you shall visit Julia and have a lovely time, and I will not mention your marrying a peer again.”

A look of stunned surprise came to Mariah’s face as her mother opened her arms.

“Oh, Mama,” Mariah said again, hardly believing this turn of events. Slipping from the chair to her knees, Mariah wrapped her arms around her mother’s waist and laid her head on her lap. She did not fight back her tears any longer.

“There, there,” Mrs. Thorncroft said right before Mariah felt a kiss on the top of her head.

For some time, the heavy tears flowed in a healing stream down her cheeks as her mother continued to murmur soothingly and stroke her back.

Mariah fully realized what this concession cost her mother, and the gratitude for their new understanding swelled within her heart.

“Thank you, Mama.”

***

“I just wish you had told me about Stothart before we left Heaton,” Steven said in an angry tone as they both sat in the salon the next afternoon.

“There really was no point to it,” Mariah replied. Steven still had not forgiven her for waiting until they had returned home to tell him of Lord Stothart’s perfidy.

“No point? I think defending my sister’s honor would be the point.” Rising, he crossed the room to look upon the rain-dulled scenery outside. He slapped his clenched fist into his palm. “Dash it, Mariah, I would have liked to flatten that jackanapes.”

Smiling at her brother’s protectiveness, Mariah tried to soothe his annoyance. “There was no need. The earl flattened him quite nicely.”

“I know,” Steven said glumly. “But I should have had a chance at him as well. I will tell you this—if I ever see him in Town I shall challenge him.”

Mariah’s eyes opened wide with concern. “Don’t be a goose. If you meet Lord Stothart in London, you must give him the cut direct. He is beneath your notice.”

Steven frowned for a few moments. “Maybe that would be the best way to deal with him. After all, Stone will certainly no longer address him, and therefore Stothart will never be fully accepted by Society again.”

At the mention of Stone, Mariah felt a fresh pang of despair. Since leaving Heaton, an ache seemed to lurk in places within her heart she had not known existed before meeting the earl. She wondered what he was doing at this moment. Imagining him hunting or painting was infinitely preferable to envisioning him with Lady Walgrave. Halting her painful thoughts, she reminded herself that it did not matter what he was doing, because she would probably never see him again. At this realization, the pain in her heart intensified.

“So you shall be visiting the Duke and Duchess of Kelbourne?”

Mariah nodded at her brother’s question, for her upcoming trip had been the main topic of conversation at the manor since yesterday.

“You shall enjoy yourself,” he continued.

“I always have a wonderful time with Julia. What plans have you made for the next month or two?”

He turned from the window to look at her with grave hazel eyes, his square jaw set firmly. “I have come to a decision. I know our parents want me to live the life of a gentleman, but I am bored with this idleness. Watching Stone deal with his estate matters showed me that even fine gentlemen are not always idle.”

This was something new indeed, she thought, looking at her brother with keen curiosity. “I like the sound of this. What are you going to do?”

“The foundry in East Tytherton is facing foreclosure. I intend to buy it. I have many ideas for improvements and expanding its operations.”

“You have already investigated this? You have discussed this with Papa?” she asked in surprise.

“Yes. Over a year ago I heard the foundry was in trouble and began to look into what it would take to manage it. Father says that he trusts my judgment.”

“I don’t know what to say, Steven. You never mentioned your interest in the foundry. Are you sure this is what you want to do?”

He turned back to her, and she thought a new air of maturity had suddenly settled over his handsome features.

“Yes. I did not completely commit to the idea until we returned from Heaton, but now I am sure.”

Mariah looked down at her hands for a moment. “Our visit to Heaton seems to have had a profound effect on all of us. But I must ask you about Lady Davinia.”

“What about Lady Davinia?” he replied gruffly.

Sending him a gentle, understanding smile, she said, “I will not press you, but you must know that you cannot gammon me. It was as plain as the nose on my face that you were smitten by her. Can you just set that aside so easily?”

“I have no choice.”

The grimness in his tone made Mariah realize how deeply her brother cared for the lovely Lady Davinia.

“We always have a choice,” she stated with a newfound maturity of her own. “Besides, I believe Lady Davinia was developing feelings for you as well.”

Steven shook his head, a look of pain crossing his features. “Don’t be so naive, Mariah. You know very well that we could never truly be accepted into Society, no matter how rich we are. Lady Davinia may have enjoyed my company, but looking at me as a potential husband is a completely different matter. She can marry any man she wants—why would she marry one who sullies his hands in trade?”

“What if she wants you? I am not so foolish as to believe that everyone would see your marriage as completely advantageous to Lady Davinia, but if she loves you what would it matter?”

He pressed his lips together in a grim line. “There was nothing in her manner toward me that suggested anything other than kindness. I must not pine for what cannot be if I am to move forward. The foundry is the kind of challenge I want. I intend to make a success of it on my own.”

“I have no doubt that you will make a great success of whatever endeavor you involve yourself in. But I intend to write Lady Davinia before I depart for Kelbourne Keep. I will send her your regards.”

Steven opened his mouth to protest, then closed it a moment later and sent her a sheepish look. “Do as you see fit.”

“From now on I shall attempt to do just that,” she said with a glint of resolve in her eyes.

Chapter Sixteen

“Where is everybody?”

Stone had just left his office after his monthly meeting with the mayor of Morley Green and had intended to join his guests in the grand salon, only to discover the room empty.

The footman he questioned bowed and said, “Her ladyship took everyone to have tea in the conservatory, my lord.”

Of course. He should have known, he thought with a smile before heading down the hall. “Thank you, Thomas.”

The conservatory had always been his mother’s favorite place in Heaton. During his boyhood, the conservatory had been a place filled with laughter from the extended Morley family. He had watched his parents enjoying themselves as they pored over plans to improve and expand the room. Now he rarely entered the impressive octagonal space with its exotic flora, Grecian urns, and friezes, unless he had company.

The footfalls from his tasseled Hessian boots echoed along the lengthy corridor as he walked to the other side of the house.

He would have liked to show Miss Thorncroft the conservatory. No doubt, with her keen artistic eye, she would have had an interesting opinion of the unusual room.

His steps slowed, and he came to a halt beneath one of his favorite paintings—a portrait of his father by Ramsey.

However, he was not gazing at the painting, only staring through it with a frown. Why would he want the high opinion of an unsophisticated young woman who thought of him as an unabashed, unmitigated rakehell? he wondered, feeling annoyed with himself for allowing Mariah to enter his thoughts again.
Well, aren’t you all those things and more?
came the unbidden thought.

He resumed walking, telling himself that he was relieved to be shed of the Thorncrofts. If Miss Thorncroft had not shown the good sense to convince her mother to leave Heaton, he would now be contending with an extremely awkward and potentially embarrassing situation.

Impatient fingers raked his thick dark hair as he turned the corner and stepped through the wide, arched entry to the conservatory.

Before him, beneath the domed glass ceiling, the remainder of the earl’s original houseguests mingled with the new. His mother, who had arrived yesterday with his Aunt Elizabeth and several cousins, sat with Lord and Lady Walgrave, Lady Davinia, Mr. and Mrs. Spence-Jones, Lady Charlotte, and Mr. Woburn. Mrs. Ingram, Lord Mattonly, and Mr. Elbridge had departed that morning, bound for other amusements.

He paused just within the entryway and scanned the group. His mother, regal in a purple-and-gray tea gown, held court beneath the glossy, draping fronds of a banana tree. She never wore a mobcap, and her dark hair looked extremely fashionable piled high on her head.

By the hum of voices, the conversation certainly seemed lively. A hint of a smile curved his mouth until he heard the gist of the discussion.

His smile disappeared, replaced by a grim set to his jaw as Jane Longmarch, a cousin on his mother’s side, spoke in a complaining voice. “My lady, I thought there would be a young gentleman Percy’s age staying at Heaton. Percy’s now terribly disappointed and bored.”

His mother set her teacup down and turned to her niece. “Yes, Stone mentioned in his letter that a family by the name of Thorncroft was staying. Evidently, they left rather unexpectedly. Percy will just have to entertain himself.”

Stone had indeed encouraged Jane to bring her son, but that was when he thought the Thorncrofts would be staying for several more weeks. He would have liked Percy to meet George, he thought with a hint of regret. Stone had found master Thorncroft to be an engaging and intelligent youngster—and the boy was definitely more rough-and-tumble than the coddled Percy.

Stone now recalled with some amusement how he had at first been against George’s joining the men during the grouse shoots. The boy had not been shy in proclaiming that he had been hunting since he was “little” and that he knew how to behave. That had started an instant friendship of sorts between them. George had chattered about the excitement of the yearly sheep shearing and about the frogs he collected from the banks of the river Avon. Stone had also learned of how George fished with his sister and how she had come to his defense when some bigger boys had tried to bully him away from his favorite fishing spot. This had piqued Stone’s curiosity about Miss Thorncroft even more.

Shamelessly, he had taken full advantage of George’s trusting, garrulous nature and asked him any number of questions about his intriguing sister, all of which the boy answered in unhesitating and full detail.

Felicity Walgrave’s voice carried through the room, pulling him back to the conversation taking place before him.

“Oh, la! Thank goodness the Thorncrofts departed a few days ago. I fear I found them much too coming. They were a rather pushy family, my lady, and I hate to say it, but they took advantage of your son’s generous nature.”

The dowager Countess of Haverstone raised her dark brows in surprise at Lady Walgrave’s description. “This is the family referred to as ‘charming’?”

Stone noticed the Spence-Joneses and Lady Davinia shifting a little uncomfortably as Felicity set her cup down, leaning forward eagerly to answer his mother’s question.

“Charming? I never saw any evidence of it,” Felicity said, gazing at the others for confirmation. Before anyone else had a chance to comment, however, she continued, “Oh, and Mrs. Thorncroft! What an oddity. Always hinting about their wealth—as if anyone of breeding cares about such things. The family, I understand, is in
trade
.”

Stone frowned, thinking of Mrs. Thorncroft. Yes, she did have a rather uncomfortable habit of hinting at the enormity of her daughter’s dowry. And she tended to bandy about how much she paid for things, but for all that, he rather liked her. He had found her willingness to please and be pleased an engaging attribute. He also could not deny that for a woman of a certain age she was quite pretty. What was the old adage? The mother was a good indication of how the daughter would look at the same age? If that were true, then Miss Thorncroft would only grow lovelier in the years to come.

“I know what you mean,” Lady Charlotte said, her golden ringlets bouncing as she agreed with Felicity. “I will say that Mr. Steven Thorncroft was not such a bad sort, but he lacked a certain refinement that true gentlemen possess.”

Crossing his arms over his chest, Stone deepened his frown. In his opinion, Steven Thorncroft did not lack refinement—he lacked worldly experience and was hungry for it. Steven had a solid character, was an excellent shot, held his liquor, and had the same slightly sarcastic sense of humor as his sister.

“And Miss Thorncroft!” Lady Walgrave said, adding another offering to the bonfire of the Thorncrofts. “Such a unique creature. She told me she dislikes London! Can you imagine? I found her to have an unseemly independence and an unsociable nature that was sadly bereft of amiability.”

“Gracious me!” Stone’s mother said as she poured tea for Lord Walgrave. “They sound a queer lot. Here is Stone now,” she said with a smile, peering at him through the bank of ferns. “Tell me, have you rusticated so long that you believed we would find such people charming?”

He strode forward, a tight smile on his face, his eyes cold. “They are a charming family.”

Though he spoke softly, something in his voice halted the movement of everyone in the room. This was all he intended to say on the matter, for he knew that once he made his position clear, no one would have the temerity to criticize his former guests again.

He caught the exchanged glances between Mr. and Mrs. Spence-Jones and Lady Davinia. The latter’s usually serene expression was tense. His mother, his aunt Elizabeth, and his cousins looked on with curious expressions, sensing the undercurrent but not understanding the cause.

A mirthless smile briefly touched his lips. It amused him now that he had invited his family—weeks before their usual time to visit—only so that the Thorncrofts would feel more comfortable.

Felicity sent him an angry, bitter glance, causing him an inward sigh of annoyance. When he had terminated their affair, the day after Mariah stumbled upon them, he assumed all was well. After all, when they began their relationship last Season it had been with the clear understanding that the affair would last only so long as it amused them both.

When he presented her with an emerald brooch and thanked her for their time together, she had accepted the gift with all the sophisticated good nature she was noted for. The parting had gone smoothly, seemingly with no hard feelings from Felicity. Apparently, he had been quite mistaken.

His mother, always the diplomat, evidently sensed something amiss, for she said with a bright smile, “How unfortunate that they had to leave. I would have enjoyed meeting them.”

“I believe you would have,” he said evenly. Moving forward, he took the seat next to Roger Spence-Jones.

The easy conversation of earlier had ceased, but Stone was in no humor to help it along.

Lady Davinia filled the breach of silence with a delicate cough that brought all eyes to her. “I—I, too, found the Thorncrofts to be a charming family and was most disappointed that they were called away.”

Lady Walgrave sniffed derisively. Stone’s mother and Aunt Elizabeth exchanged glances, and Stone felt his temper rise. Even so, he sent Lady Davinia a smile. He had always looked upon Davinia as a younger sister, and now he owned he was proud of her for defending the Thorncrofts.

“I would agree,” Roger put in. “They may have lacked a little polish, but Amelia and I found them delightful.”

“Yes. We intend to have them at Wick Hill as soon as may be,” Amelia Spence-Jones stated, with a quick pointed glance at Felicity.

Stone caught his mother’s intense blue gaze. She raised one delicately arched brow questioningly. He knew that look well—it meant that they would be discussing this subject later.

“If we are done with the Thorncrofts, I am wondering if anyone is still interested in taking a gallop to the village. I am out of snuff,” Mr. Woburn complained, deftly changing the subject through a half-suppressed yawn.

***

It did not surprise him in the least when late that evening he found his mother sitting by the fire in his library, a brandy warming in her hand.

“What an interesting day,” she stated dryly as he poured himself a drink and sat next to her.

“You thought so? I found it rather dull.” He tossed back most of the contents of his snifter.

Tilting her head to the side, she sent her son a half-amused, half-concerned look. “Hmmm. Could that be because the mysterious and controversial Thorncroft family is no longer in residence?”

Shrugging in reply, he kept his gaze on the fire. He should have known that his mother, with her keen perception, would make the connection.

As strange as it seemed, the spark had gone out of life in the last few days. He usually enjoyed this time of year immensely. The hunting and the harvesting— fall was always a busy time at the estate. But now the excitement vibrating in the air had gone flat. And he strongly suspected that it was because a certain pair of intelligent, mischievous, alluring hazel eyes was absent.

“Nicholas, if you become taciturn with me I shall scream. Since you turned eighteen, I have never interfered with your personal affairs—though Lord knows I have been tempted to—but this is different. I saw the look on your face in the conservatory and later at dinner, when the Thorncrofts were mentioned again. I have a notion that Miss Thorncroft is someone that should be made known to me.”

He turned from the fire to meet his mother’s concerned gaze. The amber firelight softened her regal features, reminding him of all the times they had sat together in front of a fire during his childhood.

“It is a rather complicated situation.” As close as they were, he had no desire to explain to his mother how Mariah had caught him with Felicity and the events that followed.

His mother affixed him with an assessing gaze. “If it is important, then un-complicate it.”

He sent her a mirthless smile. “Is life as simple as that,
Maman
?”

“When it comes to matters of the heart, I have learned that it is best to be as uncomplicated as possible.”

At the grimace of chagrin that crossed his face, a knowing look came to her handsome features. “Or is it too late for that?”

At her words he froze, his drink halfway to his lips. Was it too late? A moment ago he was trying to deny that there was anything to un-complicate. Now he felt galvanized by a sudden uneasy feeling.

They sat in silence as he stared into the fire, frowning fiercely, for some minutes. His mother’s words repeated themselves—
if it is important, then uncomplicate it.

“
Maman
, I have an important matter to attend to at one of my other estates.” He finished the brandy in a gulp.

“Is that so? Which one?”

He shrugged lightly. “I am not sure yet. I will explain to everyone that I must leave. However, I hope they will all feel free to stay at Heaton. Would you be so kind as to act as hostess for me in my absence?”

“Certainly,” she said with an impish smile. “We will have a lovely time speculating about what you are really doing.”

Stone gave a burst of laughter. “How have you always been able to see right through me?”

His mother’s smile softened to a nostalgic curve. “Because you are so very like your father, my love.”