Rhonda Woodward (19 page)

Chapter Nineteen

Almost a week after arriving at Kelbourne Keep, Mariah sat in the cheery drawing room, admiring the overstuffed furniture covered in claret-colored velvet. A brace of beeswax candles stood in each corner, casting a mellow amber glow over Julia’s guests.

Across from her, the duchess sat with the Honorable Mrs. Wilfred Francis and Mrs. Phillips, the vicar’s wife, by the fireplace.

Although Julia had done her best to bring Mariah into the conversation, Mrs. Francis and Mrs. Phillips, both quite a bit older than Mariah and Julia, were determined to keep the topic on local affairs and gossip, which Mariah had no knowledge of, and therefore she had nothing to contribute. Neither lady found anything amiss in her silence.

Pinning a serene smile on her face, Mariah rose from her chair and excused herself from the ladies, explaining that she desired a bit of fresh air. As she passed them, she saw the thinly veiled concern in Julia’s eyes.

With a reassuring smile Mariah said, “It’s such a clear night, I thought I would take a turn around the terrace.”

“Mercy, you young people are hardier than I am,” Mrs. Phillips offered from her seat next to Julia’s. “Much too chilly to be traipsing around terraces at night. I hope you do not catch your death of cold.”

Mariah and Julia exchanged amused glances at Mrs.

Phillips’ dire warnings. Julia had told Mariah before dinner that the vicar’s wife was as cantankerous as the vicar was cheerful.

Mrs. Phillips’ negativity had not been so noticeable during dinner, but since leaving the gentlemen to their port, she had grown increasingly irascible. As the woman went off on one tangent after another, Mariah and Julia had avoided looking at each other, lest they spark each other’s laughter.

Pulling her violet paisley shawl over her shoulders, Mariah dismissed the weather, feeling that her indigo velvet gown and shawl were sufficient protection. Smiling, she said to the older woman, “I shall not stay out long enough to catch a chill—but thank you for your concern.”

Mrs. Phillips only sniffed irritably in reply, turning back to her hostess and Mrs. Francis.

“It should be a beautiful night,” Mrs. Francis opined.

Julia, her gray eyes alight with laughter, said, “Do not stay out too late.”

Mariah slipped through the French doors and walked out onto the stone terrace that spanned half the width of the house.

A cool breeze ruffled her hair as she moved to the edge and rested her hands on the cold marble balustrade. The moon, full and luminescent in the sky, bathed the terrace and the garden below in silver blue light. In the inky black distance, she could make out the glow from the cottages and farms in the village.

Inhaling deeply of the fresh night air, she released her breath with a sigh.

The memory of another night like this one came back in a rush of intense, painful emotion. Why did she have to find him kissing that dreadful Lady Walgrave in the moonlight? Suddenly she realized that she was angry with Stone. Foolishly, pointlessly angry.

If only she had not seen them, then it would not hurt so terribly bad to love him. Her breathing stilled at this thought. The admission she had fought so hard to suppress had slipped out in an instant. With a pang in her heart, she knew she could not stuff the truth back down again.

She loved Stone.

And hated him. Clenching her fists, she pounded them once on the balustrade. Anger flared through her as she wished him to feel the pain she was now experiencing.

Had she fallen in love with him that first night, a night so like this one? Yes, that was when it had begun, she realized—when he had teased and talked to her as if they were friends.

Raising her eyes to the sky, she thanked heaven that she had left Heaton before making a fool of herself over him. Well, before making a
complete
fool of herself, she amended dejectedly.

“It would seem that neither one of us can resist a full moon.”

At the sound of the familiar, slightly amused voice behind her, she whirled around with a stunned gasp.

Staring in shock, Mariah could not stop her exclamation as she saw Stone’s familiar build silhouetted against a set of French windows on the other side of the terrace.

Eyes wide with astonishment and disbelief, Mariah watched him stroll toward her until he stepped into a pool of crystalline moonlight, revealing his piercing blue gaze.

“Why—when did you arrive?” she whispered, hardly comprehending that he was actually standing in front of her.

“Just moments ago,” he said, his eyes searching her face.

With a mounting sense of unreality, Mariah stared at him, her incredulous gaze sweeping his face and form. He was not dressed for dinner. In fact, he was wearing riding clothes, the buttons on his dark double-breasted coat glinting in the moonlight. Her heart caught at how incredibly handsome he looked.

“Did you know that I was here?” Instantly she wished she could take back the question. Why should he not be here? She knew that he and the duke were friends. Clasping her hands together, she chided herself for being so gauche and forward.

“Yes,” he began in a conversational tone that belied the intense expression in his eyes. “After I was shown into the dining room I saw you on the terrace from the window.”

“No, I mean, did you know that I was at Kelbourne Keep?”
Why can I not keep my mouth shut?
Her befuddled brain continued to struggle with his sudden, disarming appearance.

“Of course. You are the reason I am here, Mariah.”

At the tenderness lacing his deep voice, Mariah felt almost dizzy. Just a moment ago she had been thinking of him with anger and longing clutching her heart. Now he was here, looking unbearably handsome and intensely masculine, and saying impossible things.

His nearness in the moonlight made her head spin.
He is here,
her heart whispered. Their gazes locked, and with slow deliberation, he stepped closer. She remained where she was, her shivering having nothing to do with the cool night air. A deep, unexpected feeling of joy began to spread through her being.

His arms came around her and pulled her gently yet firmly against the solid length of his body. She inhaled deeply, savoring the familiar, intoxicating scent of him and the feel of his arms encircling her unresistant body. She felt his warm lips against her temple. “I have missed you, Mariah.”

With a sense of wonderment, she felt his huskily spoken words melt into her body and touch her soul. She raised her lips to his, and his warm mouth descended. Muscular arms tightened around her body as she clung to his broad shoulders, returning his tender kiss with all the longing she’d been suppressing since that first dinner at Heaton. As her heart thudded in her chest, his lips moved over hers, caressing and insistent. His hands moved down her back to her waist, pulling her with him into a sensual moonlit whirlpool where she was past caring about anything but the feel of his lips and body.

As his kiss deepened, a sudden inner voice, belated but persistent, cautioned her to be careful.

Unable to trust her feelings and overwhelmed by his sudden appearance and the sensual barrage upon her senses, she pushed at his chest. Immediately, he set her free.

She dragged a deep breath into her lungs, took a step back, and saw the passion blazing in his eyes.

Pulling her shawl back up to her shoulders, she tried to gather her composure. She had spent the last few days working very hard to put him out of her thoughts. How could he just appear out of nowhere and destroy her hard-won peace of mind? She must not allow his sudden and overwhelming presence to impair her judgment, she decided. From experience she knew he had the frightening ability to affect her heart quite effortlessly, and her newfound sense of independence screamed within her to be careful.

“What are you doing here?” she said, her tone angry and defensive. “I don’t understand any of this.”

He remained motionless, his cool eyes meeting her cautious, troubled gaze. “I didn’t either until you had been gone for a few days.” His deep voice created a coiling tension within her that made her want to return to his embrace. Forcing herself to stay still, she gazed up at him, her distraught eyes sparkling in the moonlight.

Something in the way he stood, so tense and alert, seemed to stop her heart for an instant.

“Marry me, Mariah,” he said, his voice rough with passion.

“What?” she whispered, believing that she must be dreaming.

“Marry me.”

Stunned, she fought to keep her mind clear. It took a moment for the fog of passion and longing to lift enough for his words to sink in. When they did, the hint of burgeoning joy froze within her breast. Her spinning senses began to settle, and harsh reality returned with a sickening jolt.

“Marry you?” She took a half step back. “What is wrong with me?” she said more to herself than to him. “Why do I lose all self-control when you are near?”

Gazing down, he studied her distraught features with tender amusement. “I am certainly not going to say that is bad news.”

Ignoring the familiar gentle tease in his voice, she said with an edge of desperation, “I must be wise. Considering a life with you would be foolish.” She was too frightened to be anything but blunt.

She sensed him wince as if she had dealt him a blow.

“What do you mean?” he questioned, his tone unemotional.

“I mean, my lord, that it would be the height of folly to trust you,” she stated shakily.

He did not move. “Of course you have reason to feel that way. But anything that has happened in my life before you is exactly that—before you.”

Unable to hold his gaze, she looked away and swallowed nervously, desperately trying to hold on to what she knew to be true at this moment: that if she did choose to trust him and he betrayed her, it would destroy her. And there would be no one to blame but her own foolish self.

“Mariah, I know you believe that I am an unabashed, unmitigated rakehell. But you must know— you must feel because of what has passed between us—that this feeling we share is real.”

She met his intense gaze, her eyes filled with confusion. “I no longer know what is real.”

“You are frightened.”

“Of course I am frightened. If I married you, I would just be reverting back to the way I was.”

He made an impatient gesture. “I don’t understand.”

Without any real idea of how to explain, she plunged ahead. “I used to just wait for things to happen. I waited for circumstances to dictate how I lived.

If I married you, the waiting would start all over again. After my time at Heaton, I promised myself never to live that way again.”

He spread his hands wide, and she could see by his frown that he was trying to understand what she was saying. “How would marrying me make you revert back to something you don’t like?”

Shaking her head helplessly, she struggled to put her feelings into words. “I would always be waiting for one of your friends to sneer at my family because we are beneath you. I would always be waiting for one of your mistresses to insult me. I would always be waiting for you to break my heart. I cannot live like that. I—I want to be like Alice of Surrey.” Her beseeching gaze silently begged him to understand and tempt her no more.

“Marry me and you can do and be whatever you want,” he said, his voice low and forceful.

The words hung between them, and for a moment she almost succumbed to the heady seduction in his voice.

Feeling her resolve weakening, she turned away. “Please don’t,” she said in a choked whisper before whirling away and running back to the French door, leaving him to stare after her with a grim expression on his moonlit face.

Chapter Twenty

“He’s gone.”

At the sound of Julia’s soft voice, Mariah rolled over onto her back and pulled the covers up to her chin against the cold morning.

A moment later she felt Julia’s weight lowering onto the bed. “I have brought you some chocolate and some pears from our hothouse.”

Opening her eyes, Mariah squinted up at her old friend and saw that Julia wore a dressing gown in an exquisite shade of ecru mixed with pink.

“Thank you, Julia,” she said, pushing herself up against her pillows.

“I hope you are not too upset to talk. If you are, I will apologize in advance for plaguing you with questions, but I positively cannot resist.”

Mariah looked at the beautifully arranged tray resting next to them on the bed. “Did Stone really arrive here yesterday evening?” she asked, only half joking.

“Oh, yes. When the gentlemen rejoined the ladies in the dining room, I own that I was quite astounded to see him. Evidently Jeffries did not see fit to tell me that a new guest had arrived. Stone certainly gave Mrs. Francis and Mrs. Phillips a thrill. He had them giggling like schoolgirls.”

“Yes, he has that effect on women.” Mariah leaned forward and picked up her cup of chocolate, trying to avoid meeting Julia’s perceptive gaze.

“Mariah! Your hand is shaking! Tell me at once what is amiss. Did Stone insult you? Though it would be beyond odd to come all this way to do so.”

Placing the cup and saucer in her lap to steady her hand, she quickly shook her head. “No, he did not insult me. In fact, he paid me a great compliment— he asked me to marry him.”

Julia’s own cup rattled in its saucer as she almost dropped it. “He did? My gracious, Mariah, what happened?”

The encounter with Stone was too recent, her emotions too raw for her to reveal all the details to Julia. Nonetheless, when she finished giving the most important points, Julia stared at her with wide-eyed concern.

“But why did you reject him? You cannot humbug me. You care for him.”

“That is precisely why! Because I care for him, he could crush my heart with so little effort. How could I ever trust him? I must be wise.”

“You are frightened.”

“That is what he said.” Mariah sat her cup back down and pushed her braid off her shoulder.

“Well, he is right. Mariah, love is a risk. You cannot give your heart to someone with any guarantee that it will never be hurt. But I assure you that the rewards are worth the risk.”

“But he does not love me!” Struggling to suppress her pain and confusion, she spoke more sharply than she intended.

Julia made an impatient gesture. “How can you say so? How many women do you think the Earl of Haverstone has followed across country to ask to marry him? I’d wager everything except my husband that the answer is none.”

Mariah’s frown was doubtful. “But he did not say he loved me.”

Julia sent her a look of understanding. “Oh, Mariah, don’t you know anything about men? You used to be the wise one. What has happened to you?”

“You did not know much about men before about six months ago,” Mariah said with a wan smile.

“You have a point, but if Stone is anything like Kel—and I believe he is, since they are the best of friends—then actions speak much louder than words.”

Mariah digested this for a moment while Julia curled up at the end of the bed and leaned against the post.

Mariah hardly knew what to think. She found it quite astounding that Stone had come all this way to see her. That he could have come because of her dowry did not fit with everything she had come to know of him, and yet she simply could not believe that he loved her and that he would give up Lady Walgrave and other women in the future.

“Even if he does love me, I am not sure it is enough,” she whispered.

“As I said, there are no guarantees when it comes to matters of the heart. Look at it another way—he came all this way and if you had said yes, what assurance would he have that you loved him and did not desire him for his title?”

“But I do not care about his title!”

“How would he know that?” Julia reasoned. “He could not know for sure. He would have to trust you.”

Maria frowned, considering Julia’s words. She had not looked at the situation from this vantage point. She put her hand to her throbbing head. The feeling that she had made the most dreadful mistake of her life warred with her desperate need to protect herself from further hurt.

“Mariah, we have been friends for so very long that I cannot but speak frankly to you.”

“Of course, Julia. It has always been so between us.”

Mariah saw her friend take a deep breath before she continued. “As we grew up and started going to assembly balls and parties, and the young men started to flock to your side, I observed a change in your personality.”

Mariah frowned, trying to recall a time that seemed an eon ago. “What do you mean?”

“Most young women would feel flattered and carefree, leading any number of beaux on a merry chase. Not you. You grew more cautious and shy. Because of our friendship, I understood what was happening. You found it difficult to believe that any young man could be interested in you for you alone. Your dowry has hung over your head for so long that you can no longer see past it.”

The simple truth of the words hit Mariah so hard that she could not halt the sudden flood of tears that came to her eyes. Julia’s words were true. Mariah had never listened to a compliment without wondering if the gentleman paying it knew of the thirty thousand pounds her father had settled upon her.

Suddenly she recalled the night she had danced at Heaton, when Stone told her that he could empathize with her concern about fortune hunters. “My title is often the attraction, instead of my sterling character,” he had said. At the time his tone had been so satirical she had not taken him seriously. After all, there was so much more to him than his pedigree that any woman would be lucky to have him, coronet or not.

But what if there had been more truth to his offhand statement than he had let on? she wondered with growing unease.

“If it is true,” she whispered aloud, “then he came here risking that I would say yes just because of his title.”

“It would seem so,” Julia gently agreed.

“You said he is gone?”

“He left after an early breakfast.”

“Then that settles that.” Mariah choked back the words. “My rejection has put him off or he would not have left so soon.”

Julia smiled, reaching over to pat Mariah’s blanket covered leg. “You must be in love. That is the only thing that would explain your extremely uncharacteristic vacillation.”

A new thought suddenly struck Mariah. Dashing away an escaped tear, she looked at her friend eagerly.

“Julia, has the post left yet? I need to send a letter immediately.” She had no idea what she intended to write, but that did not matter right now.

“Not to worry. I will have it sent by messenger. As I told you before, it’s rather fun to be a duchess,” she said with an impish smile as Mariah jumped out of bed and ran to the Hepplewhite escritoire on the other side of the room.

Ten days later, wrapped in a pale lilac robe, Mariah sat in her bedchamber gazing out the window that overlooked the famed vale of Kelbourne.

Next to her chair a breakfast tray sat on a delicate pear-wood table, the food untouched. She stared out the window, watching the late-morning light break over the vale below and the picturesque village nestled in the distant downs.

Turning her head at the light tap on the door, Mariah saw Julia, dressed in a raspberry-colored morning gown, her pale hair twisted in an elegant coif, step into the room.

“Goodness, you are usually such an early riser,” Julia said as she crossed the room to sit next to Mariah.

“Yes, I’m feeling a touch lazy this morning,” Mariah replied, summoning a smile.

Since sending her brief missive to Heaton—politely requesting that she and the earl continue their discussion at the earl’s leisure—Mariah had not spoken of Stone to Julia. Instead, during the day they had kept very busy with all the things that interest a new bride, and in the evening they were entertained by the very urbane and amusing duke, who made no mention of Stone’s brief visit.

As each day passed, Mariah had grown more bereft and dejected. If Stone had been interested he would have responded to her note days ago. Valiantly, she had tried to ignore the dull ache in her heart and behave as normally as possible in front of Julia.

Julia took the seat across from Mariah and looked at her with a queer expression. “Well, I hate to disrupt your restful morning, but there are three gentlemen in the drawing room with a letter of introduction from the Prince Regent, of all people, wishing an audience with you.”

Mariah’s mouth dropped open, and then she laughed at Julia’s rather odd joke. “What nonsense is this?”

“ ’Tis not nonsense. Kel is having a lovely chat with them. They do not seem in the least bit of a hurry.”

Sitting bolt upright, Mariah said, “Julia! You are hoaxing me! Why would there be gentlemen wishing to speak to me?”

“I haven’t a clue, though I suspect if you give it a moment’s thought you might figure out who is behind their being here. They are an interesting-looking lot. I believe Kel is rather enjoying himself.”

Mariah jumped up, pulling her robe tight around her. “What are you prattling about? Who is here to see me?”

“The Reverend Mr. John Petersham, Mr. Reginald Tracy, and Mr. Cecil Harding all arrived a half an hour ago.”

“But
who
are they and
why
do they want to see me?”

“Lord knows,” Julia said breezily. “But with a letter from the Regent, I am rabid to find out.”

“Julia, I am about to have a fit! What is going on?”

“Get dressed and find out,” Julia said with a laugh.

“There are really three gentlemen waiting downstairs for me?” Mariah said as she moved to the bell-pull to summon Harris.

“That’s what I have been telling you for the last five minutes.”

After pulling the rope, she turned back to her friend. “Well, I suppose I must go see what this is about,” she said with a baffled shrug.

***

Less than an hour later, Mariah found herself downstairs seated in the splendor of the Duke of Kelbourne’s formal drawing room.

On her lap rested a letter from the Prince Regent.
The Prince Regent!
she marveled. With a supreme effort she resisted the urge to glance down and read it again. Having read it three times already, she knew that the brief note, with its thick wax seal and silk cord, simply requested that she be so kind as to attend the good gentlemen there to see her. It was signed with a distinctive flourishing scrawl.
When Mama sees it, she will no doubt have a paroxysm,
she thought distractedly.

Seated across from her was Mr. Reginald Tracy, a distinguished-looking gentleman with thinning gray hair and sharp brown eyes.

“As the papers I gave you indicate, I have a position as consultant with the Royal Academy of Arts. During my tenure, I have had the privilege of instructing Thomas Lawrence and a few other notable artists. Since going into partial retirement some years ago I have devoted myself to the instruction of only the most gifted students,” he said in the clipped, precise tones of a schoolmaster. “And I must say, Miss Thorncroft, when I first saw examples of your work I was ignorant to the fact that you are a woman. I was even more surprised to learn that you have never received any formal instruction in art. That is accurate, is it not?”

Mariah stared at him in utter astonishment for a few moments. “Er—yes, it is,” she finally recovered herself enough to reply.

He nodded curtly and continued. “Miss Thorncroft, I am prepared to spend whatever time you are willing to devote to the development of your considerable talent. In fact, I would deem it a great honor.”

Mariah could not speak. In the back of her mind she wondered how this man had gotten hold of some of her sketches. More than that, she felt stunned and rather humbled that a man of Mr. Tracy’s credentials could find her talented.

“I do not expect a decision right now, Miss Thorncroft. I will leave my direction so that you may write to me if what I have said is of interest to you.” Rising, he bowed and handed her his card before moving toward the door.

“Thank you, Mr. Tracy,” she said, hastily recovering her manners despite her shock. “Thank you very much.”

Bowing again, he smiled for the first time since entering the room. “It is my pleasure, Miss Thorncroft.”

She did not have a moment to digest what Mr. Tracy had said before the butler announced Mr. Harding. Rising, she greeted the thin, well-dressed man and indicated that he should be seated.

Bowing, he placed a large portfolio and leather satchel next to his chair. Once they were both seated, he began to speak to her in a respectful, businesslike manner.

“Miss Thorncroft, I am one of the Earl of Haverstone’s solicitors. I am with the firm Harding and Harding, and we have proudly and devotedly served his lordship for more than twenty years. I thank you for allowing me to speak with you on such short notice.” Reaching down into the portfolio, he pulled a stack of papers out and spread them on the tea table between them.

Mariah looked at them in surprise. Obviously they were some sort of legal documents.

“I will leave these for you and your own solicitor to review. In essence, they state that your entire dowry is to be set aside for your sole and exclusive use. You will also find that there is a provision for an extremely generous monthly allowance.” He used his quill to point to a section in the papers. “There is also a codicil stipulating that a certain amount of the Earl of Haverstone’s capital would be set aside and invested for your sole and exclusive use. If he should predecease you, none of the monies or real estate belonging to you would return to the earl’s estate, and the allowance would continue for your lifetime.”

He paused, obviously waiting for some sort of response from her. Mariah, mute with astonishment, could only stare at the documents spread before her.

When it became apparent to Mr. Harding that she was not going to speak, he pulled from the satchel several leather-bound books and placed them on the table. “Here are the earl’s accounting ledgers. They list all his holdings, investments, speculations, and etcetera. I can explain in depth where the bulk of his lordship’s wealth resides, but it will take some time.”