Rhonda Woodward (18 page)

“My gracious, Mariah! All this happened in a matter of a few days?” Julia’s pale gray eyes were wide with wonder.

Mariah sighed. “Yes, but it seemed like so much longer.”

“How difficult it all must have been for you. I have a thousand questions. But your story does explain something.”

“It explains something?” Mariah looked baffled.

“Kel told me he received a missive from Stone the other day. It was brief—and he did not explain why— but in it Stone stated that he would no longer acknowledge Lord Stothart.”

Mariah looked dumbstruck. “He did?”

“I am certainly not surprised, now that I know what occurred. Since my marriage I have discovered that the nobility are a strange lot. They are above the laws of the land, and the most nefarious behavior hardly raises an eyebrow. But if one of their own shows himself to have behaved as less than a gentleman by their strange code, then he is ostracized by Society. It is quite an effective way to keep the beau monde terribly exclusive.”

Mariah did not know what to think about what Julia just said. She only remembered how safe she felt when Stone had taken her into his arms after Lord Stothart’s attack.

“So what now?”

Mariah pulled her attention back to Julia, a confused frown furrowing her brow. “What now?”

“Yes. What about Stone?”

“What do you mean, ‘what about Stone?’” Mariah felt unable to hold her friend’s direct and perceptive gaze, so she looked down at her hands resting in her lap.

Julia made a half-impatient, half-amused noise. “Do not cut up stiff with me. You know exactly what I mean. What about Stone?”

Mariah shrugged. “Nothing. I do not flatter myself that the kiss meant anything. If I did, the look on his face after he overheard my horrid comments to Steven about him would dispel that notion.”

“But Mariah, I suspect that you were developing a regard for the earl—especially after Stothart’s insult.”

Eyes wide with shock and dismay, Mariah quickly tried to correct her friend’s assumption. “No! I own that he is attractive and—and interesting, but how could I truly care for such an unrepentant rake?”

Julia frowned at this. “I have come to know the earl a little through his close friendship with my husband. Though I did find him rather daunting, and he is famously wild in some ways, nevertheless I found I quite liked him. I have no doubt that he has dallied with numerous women and has probably gambled away several fortunes—but he is a gentleman underneath it all.”

Mariah shook her head, but Julia continued, “I shall say right out that I believe he behaved the way he did because you snared some part of his heart. And I know you too well, Mariah. You would never let him kiss you if you did not have a
tendre
for him.”

Mariah continued to shake her head vehemently, her confusion growing. “Even if that were true it doesn’t matter.”

“Then what does?” Julia questioned softly.

Mariah hesitated before answering. “I believe Heaton cast a spell over me,” she finally said with a self-deprecating smile. “Instead of the usual kind of spell where the maiden falls asleep, this spell has awakened me.”

“How do you mean?”

“Heaton made me realize that I have been asleep most of my life. Oh, I have always kept busy. There is always plenty to do at home and at church. The parish school has taken up a great deal of my time— most happily. But I have been in a state of
waiting
since I was old enough to put my hair up.”

Julia listened with a look of awe at her friend’s maturity. “I cannot tell you how much I have missed you, Mariah. This is vastly interesting. What do you mean by ‘state of waiting’?”

Mariah pulled a plush indigo velvet-and-silk pillow onto her lap before going on. “As busy as I was—as happy as I was—I was always waiting for my life to begin. Always waiting for something to happen, but I never knew exactly what. Oh, Julia, it is so difficult to put into words, but I am utterly weary of waiting. Heaton has opened my eyes, and I see everything so differently now. And I intend, to the best of my ability, to live my life without waiting for something to happen. I must make the best of this moment and each moment that follows. Am I making any sense at all?” she asked on a forlorn little laugh.

“Yes—yes, you are. But what of your parents’ desire for you to wed a peer?”

Mariah smiled a little. “Mama and I have come to a new understanding. The fact that I could speak so frankly with her tells me that the change I feel within is real. I see now that some of the tension between Mama and me was my fault. I had grown so tired of arguing over the years that I let her think that I would be docile if a plum title wanted my dowry. Now everything is so much better between us.”

“I am glad your mama will no longer put so much pressure on you. But do you really think that you can forget what happened with Stone so easily?”

“Yes,” Mariah said with a desperate firmness that she suspected Julia did not believe. “I must. Besides, there is no reason for me to be so vehement about him. I was never in danger of attracting his interest.”

Julia’s frown revealed her deep concern for Mariah, and she wondered at the new shadows of sadness lurking in her friend’s eyes.

They sat in silence for a while—each considering what had just been said.

The essence that made their friendship what it was felt just as strong as if they had never been apart. Because of this, Julia could not set aside her concern.

“Is your heart broken, Mariah?” Julia asked the question gently, compassion vibrating through her voice.

Mariah turned away from Julia’s gently probing gaze and watched a massive cedar log, as big as her body, burning in the huge hearth.

“Can a heart be broken in a matter of days?” Despite reaching for a light, careless tone, Mariah knew she did not sound very convincing.

“I assure you, from my own experience, it may only take a matter of moments under the right circumstances.”

Evidently Julia was not going to let her avoid the subject. Mariah turned back to her friend with a wry smile.

“Until now I have refused to contemplate such a question because I suspected I would not like the answer. I would be more than a fool to allow my heart to be broken by a man like the Earl of Haverstone. But I will not deny that somehow he charmed me as no one else ever has.”

“Only charmed?”

Shifting uncomfortably, Mariah shrugged at the softly asked question. “There may be a very slight crack in my heart, but I do not think that it is truly broken.” Mariah hoped—rather than believed—that this was true.

Again silence held them for a moment before Julia said, “I shall plague you no more with questions. You will rest here in my home, and I will keep you so busy that you will not have time to worry about that crack in your heart. Tomorrow the upholsterer is bringing a cart full of fabric and such to redecorate my bedchamber, sitting room, and salon. I shall depend on your artistic eye to help guide my taste.”

“You have been to my home so many times that I am surprised that you would trust me with so much as choosing a pillow for this magnificent place,” Mariah said, relieved at the change of subject.

Julia laughed. “I do not fear that you have your mother’s taste. But you are right when you say that Kelbourne Keep is magnificent. I could scarce believe my eyes when Kel first brought me here. I was so daunted that I could not see myself as mistress of this imposing place. But now, because of Kel, this is home.”

This simple explanation brought tears to Mariah’s eyes, leaving her with a poignant ache in her heart for Heaton.

Sitting next to her, Julia frowned at the quick flash of pain that crossed Mariah’s features. She could not stop herself from asking, “Mariah, how do you propose to live your life from now on?”

Lifting her chin to a stubborn angle, Mariah said, “Well, that is the part I am not exactly sure of, but I know that I can never go back to the way I was before.”

Chapter Eighteen

Three days later, the Earl of Haverstone strolled into the White Hart, an inn situated on a busy merchant street in the village of Chippenham.

The innkeeper, a shrewd little man, took one look at the earl’s fine clothes, powerful build, and expression of natural hauteur and instantly recognized him as a member of the Quality. As he approached the gentleman, the innkeeper mentally raised his prices by half.

Removing his gloves, Stone glanced around the common room, finding it as quaint as the village he had just ridden through. Though it was the middle of the day, several men sat around the rough-hewn table with full tankards of ale. All conversation had stopped at his entry, but Stone paid no heed, taking their curious stares as a matter of course.

The proprietor shuffled up, pulling his forelock. “Would you be wantin’ the use of the private parlor, sir?”

“Yes, good man. I will also need three adjacent rooms for the next night or two. I will be occupying the middle room. For now, I will have a pint of ale and ask you how far it is to Thorncroft Manor.”

The innkeeper rubbed his hands together. “Several miles east of here, sir. You take High Street to Cocklebury Road, then take that to the end, and you will come to a long drive that leads to the Thorncroft place. I’ll get your ale. Would you be wantin’ a tab, sir?” He knew there was no need to ask for payment

up front from this fine gentleman.

“Yes. I’m Haverstone.”

Just then his head groom, Crenshaw, entered. Stone signaled him over as the innkeeper shuffled off.

“In half an hour I will need a message sent to Thorncroft Manor.”

“Very good, my lord. I will send Robby. He’s a fast rider and knows how to behave himself.”

“Excellent.” Stone smiled slightly at the groom’s description of the lad. “Are the horses and carriages in good repair?”

“Aye, my lord, especially considering the time we made.”

Stone nodded in satisfaction. “I’ll have the note ready shortly.”

***

In his room an hour later, Stone stood gazing out the second-story window overlooking the front of the inn. Behind him, Stolt bustled around arranging the earl’s things and tidying the simple, clean room.

Despite his seemingly relaxed stance, Stone felt his patience becoming strained. It had been well more than an hour since Robby had been sent to Thorncroft Manor with the note—more than enough time to return with a response.

Not that Stone doubted his welcome by the Thorncrofts; he was just growing impatient to see Mariah again. Now that he saw things clearly, it was imperative to settle the tension and confusion of their parting.

Stolt finished laying out the earl’s clothes and said, “Will you be dining here, my lord?”

Stone glanced at his valet over his shoulder, a faint frown crossing his features. “I am not sure yet,” he said, turning back to the window.

Just then he saw his young groom, riding low in the saddle, gallop into the inn yard on one of his fastest dappled gray mares.

“Robby’s returned,” he said, unable to keep the edge of excitement from his voice.

“I’ll go down, my lord,” Stolt said.

The valet returned in minutes. Handing a folded and sealed piece of vellum to the earl, Stolt bowed and left the room.

Staying by the window, Stone broke the seal and scanned the brief message, a look of satisfaction coming to his face.

My Lord Haverstone,

We are most pleased to hear that you are

visiting the area. My wife and I would be

most honored to have you dine with us this

evening if you have no other engagement.

We will be expecting you, at your convenience,

this evening.

Your most humble servant,

Edmund Thorncroft

Loosening the knot in his neckcloth, Stone felt his mood elevate instantly. He wondered how Mariah had reacted to discovering he’d traveled to her village. He would know soon, he thought, with a feeling of pleasurable anticipation.

***

Several hours later, as his carriage swept up the long drive to Thorncroft Manor, Stone felt oddly tense about the impending meeting with Mariah. The thought of seeing her mischievous hazel eyes and lovely heart-shaped face caused his heart to race.

The coach slowed, pulling up to the front steps. Before Stone alighted, he saw from the coach window that the front doors were open and Mrs. Thorncroft and a man he assumed to be Mr. Thorncroft had stepped out onto the wide marble front steps.

As he ascended the steps, he looked at Mariah’s father and saw the resemblance to his daughter in his sparkling, intelligent eyes.

“Welcome to Thorncroft Manor, my lord Haverstone,” Mrs. Thorncroft called in a delighted tone as she curtsied. “Never did I think that we would be seeing you again . . . so soon.” Her smile faltered as she turned to the bowing man at her side. “My lord, may I present my husband, Mr. Edmund Thorncroft.”

“Good evening, Mr. Thorncroft. I am pleased to meet you.” He put out his hand and grasped Mr. Thorncroft’s, impressed by the man’s direct gaze and firm handshake.

“The honor is mine, my lord. I would like to thank you for your kind hospitality toward my family.”

Meeting Mr. Thorncroft’s unflinching eyes, Stone wondered how much he knew of what had occurred during his daughter’s stay at Heaton.

“You are always welcome at Heaton, sir. Your family brightened the halls.”

Mr. Thorncroft responded with a slight bow.

“And Mrs. Thorncroft.” Stone turned back to her, noticing the look of alarm in her eyes despite her smile. “You are looking exceedingly lovely this evening.”

Mrs. Thorncroft gave a delighted laugh as they moved into the foyer. As the butler closed the doors behind them, Stone glanced around, almost giving a start at the prodigious number of gilded art objects and decorations covering every square inch of wall space and crammed onto tabletops and into corners.

“Please come into the salon, my lord. We will go in to supper shortly, but my husband is proud of his cellar and can offer you something I am sure you will enjoy.”

They walked down a long hall—just as overwhelmed with gilded objects as the foyer—until they reached a pair of double doors. Mr. Thorncroft opened them himself, and Stone strode forward to see Steven Thorncroft rise from a chair, a strained smile upon his features.

A moment later Stone realized that, save for Steven, the busy room held no other occupants. Swallowing his disappointment, he greeted the young man, who did not seem nearly as at ease as he had at Heaton.

“It is very good to see you again, my lord,” Steven said, bowing.

Not a hint of his disappointment showed as Stone greeted the young man, then turned back to Mr. and Mrs. Thorncroft. “I trust the rest of your family is well?” he asked with exquisite politeness.

He did not miss their hesitation as the three of them exchanged quick glances. Suddenly he became aware of a palpable tension and was instantly concerned as to its cause.

“We are all quite well. Thank you for asking, my lord.” Mrs. Thorncroft spoke quickly, filling the awkward silence.

As he was about to ask directly about Mariah, the door flew open, cutting off his words. A small boy came running toward him.

“My lord Stone!” George shouted excitedly, skidding to stop a second before he ran into the earl. Performing a hasty bow, the boy cried, “You are here!”

“George!” Mr. and Mrs. Thorncroft shouted in unison, horrified at their son’s forwardness.

Stone smiled down at the boy with great pleasure, thinking him a handsome little replica of his lovely sister.

“How are you, young George? I hope you are practicing your fencing.”

“Oh yes, sir,” George said breathlessly, his eyes shining with hero worship. “But I think I have forgotten a few things. Would you show me again while you are here?”

“That is enough, young man,” Mr. Thorncroft said sternly.

Stone’s smile was indulgent. “It is a perfectly reasonable request, Mr. Thorncroft. I did agree to instruct your son in the art of fencing. If George is not otherwise occupied tomorrow, we can have another lesson.”

“My lord! That’s much too generous—” Mr.

Thorncroft began before George shouted his accep

tance over the top of him.

“Thank you, Lord Stone!”

“Now, George, your father has said that is enough. Do not pester his lordship.” Mrs. Thorncroft’s pretty features were flushed with embarrassment.

“Off to your room, George,” Mr. Thorncroft instructed in a tone Stone surmised his children never disobeyed.

Slightly crestfallen, George bowed again and walked slowly back to the door. As he pulled the door open, he turned back and said, “Too bad Mariah is visiting Miss Allard—I mean, the duchess. She won’t be able to watch us fence.” Then he left the room.

At George’s words Stone felt a sharp stab of disappointment, for it had never occurred to him that Mariah would not be at home.

Keeping his expression carefully bland, Stone turned to Mariah’s parents. “Evidently Miss Thorncroft will not be joining us this evening. I trust she has been well since she left Heaton?”

Silence met his question. Suddenly Mrs. Thorncroft seemed to find her fan very interesting, and Steven tugged at his neckcloth.

“Yes, quite well. Thank you, my lord,” said Mr. Thorncroft. “Mariah shall be in Kent for a month and is no doubt enjoying her visit with her childhood friend, the new Duchess of Kelbourne.” He walked to a carved and gilded cabinet. “May I interest you in a glass of very fine Burgundy that I have recently acquired?”

“Certainly, Mr. Thorncroft,” Stone said cordially, wondering with barely concealed frustration how soon after supper he could have a private word with Mr. Thorncroft and how soon he could leave Chippenham after his fencing lesson tomorrow with George.

Accepting the drink from Mr. Thorncroft, he realized with rising frustration that he was still at least two days away from seeing Mariah again.