The Runaway Heiress (19 page)

'She is beautiful,'
Frances whispered. 'Has she a name?' She continued to caress the satin neck.

'She does not have one,
unless it is Spanish. She is for you to name.'

'I have never owned
anything so perfect.' She could not take her eyes from her unexpected gift. The
mare tossed her head and danced on the spot, eager to show her paces. Frances
felt the suspicion of tears behind her eyelids and blinked rapidly, feeling
foolish. She could not look at Aldeborough, but leaned her forehead against
the mare's silken shoulder. She wanted to fling her arms around her husband's
neck, to press her cheek against his heart, but she could not fight past the
barrier between them.

'How can I thank you?' Her
lips felt stiff and the words sounded cold and formal to her own ears.

'You don't have to. I
thought you might find these useful as well.'

Aldeborough held out a
flat packet wrapped in soft leather. She turned from the mare to take it from
him hesitantly.

'Open it,' he encouraged.

'Yes. Of course. It's just
that...' She tried to explain the swell of emotion in her breast. 'I am not
used to receiving presents, you see.'

Frances opened the packet.
'They are lovely.' She held the soft leather riding gloves, fashioned in a
masculine style with a gold fringe and embroidered gauntlet

'Perhaps you will ride out
with me,' Aldeborough prompted, 'and let the mare show you her paces.'

'Perhaps... But I must...I
can't...' How could he be so kind, so generous, when she had been so
unforgiving! It was so unfair of him!

Before she dissolved into
tears that she could no longer contain, Frances picked up her skirts and fled
into the house, leaving Aldeborough and Selby to raise their eyebrows at the
unpredictability of women.

Frances encountered Aunt
May on the stairs.

'But what's wrong? What's
happened?' Lady Cotherstone put out a hand to detain the distraught lady.

'Aldeborough has given me
the Spanish mare. She is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.'

'Well, of course. Now that
is something to cry about!'

Frances flushed in
exasperation and fled to the privacy of her bed chamber.

A visit from Viscount and
Lady Torrington and Charles did little to ease the tensions that continued to
simmer below the surface. They drove to the Priory in a dusty landaulet, which
had certainly seen better days, to make a formal morning call, the last thing
Frances expected, but her aunt and uncle had clearly put themselves out to
please. As the assembled company sipped tea in the morning room, Frances was
aware only of the clash of tension behind the pleasant facade.

'Dear Frances,' exclaimed
her Aunt Cordelia, 'we simply had to come to give out felicitations to the
bride. And you, my lord Aldeborough. We are very sorry to lose our niece from
our home, but we are delighted that she has made such an excellent alliance.
And we are sure that you are highly satisfied with your choice!'

Aldeborough bowed his
agreement, a bland smile bracketing his mouth. It would have served no purpose
to shatter the deliberate attempts at amiability, even though Frances fell an
urge to fling her teacup at her aunt's nodding ostrich plumes.

If Viscount Torrington
remembered the content of his previous conversation with Aldeborough, he
showed no sign of it. He conversed equably with the Marquis on such matters as
horse breeding and the need for local road improvements.

Aldeborough was his usual
urbane self, handling the whole event with cool politeness and a smile that
held neither warmth nor affability. Frances could almost see the barely
contained anger shimmering around him. It took all of his self-control not to
take a riding crop to Torrington and whip him from the door. He tried to block
out the memory of the cruelty and humiliation inflicted on Frances and the
permanent scarring that would be a constant reminder of her devastated
childhood. His fingers clenched to the imminent danger of the fragile china in
his hand. Now was not the time, but one day Torrington would pay for his
betrayal of the trust of guardianship.

Meanwhile Frances came to
the conclusion that the visit had been engineered by Charles. He made an
excellent impression with his polished manners, impeccably turned out in a
well-cut coat of dark green superfine and spotless white buckskins. His fair
hair gleamed and his regular features could not be anything but pleasing. His
smile was open and genuine as he lavished his attention on Aunt May. He flirted
with her a little, encouraging her to gossip and laughing at her fine-drawn
descriptions of their London acquaintance. Frances looked on in fascination.

It was all very pleasant.
As Frances measured out the tea from the caddy into the silver teapot she found
herself wondering if her memory served her well. Life at Torrington Hall had
been one of neglect and hard work—cruelty, even. She remembered the cold
bareness of her room, the long hours of household drudgery, the crippling
indifference without care or love and the agony of her uncle's whip. The blood
drained from her cheeks at the intensity of her memories and her heart increased
its rhythm, but she followed her husband's lead and smiled as she answered some
trivial query of her aunt's.

They took their leave
after the requisite period of time and Frances walked with her guests to the
door.

'Perhaps you will find
time to visit us at the Hall,' Lady Torrington suggested.

'How kind. When estate
duties permit, I will bring my wife to visit you.' Aldeborough's urbanity knew
no bounds.

'I can understand your
wish not to allow Frances to make the journey alone. The highwaymen—the news of
that was quite shocking.' Charles's tone was solemn as he expressed his
concern.

'I was not aware that it
was common knowledge.' Aldeborough's eyes narrowed.

'News like that spreads.
Footpads are a threat to us all.'

'And you did begin
enquiries in York,' Aunt May reminded her nephew. 'Rumours are sure to spread.
I expect that is how you came by your knowledge, Mr Hanwell.'

'Why, yes, Lady
Cotherstone. Akrill, our butler, had all the details. You know how it is.'

Aldeborough accepted the
explanation with a smile that showed his teeth. 'Of course. Your solicitude,
Charles, is most gratifying.'

Aldeborough's eyes met
Lady Cotherstone's fleetingly, but with a hint of warning. She merely smiled
serenely and engaged Lady Torrington in a surprisingly detailed discussion of
the best ways to preserve plums for winter consumption, which lasted until they
were all standing on the gravelled drive beside Torrington's landaulet.

Charles managed a few
moments of private conversation with Frances as his mother was handed up into
their carriage.

'I would
hate to think that you were in any danger. You know that you can rely on me for
help if you need it. You have only to send word.' He paused to select his words
carefully. 'Whatever the problem.'

'You are very kind. But I
don't anticipate any further danger.' His persistence surprised her, but all
she could read in his eyes was thoughtful attentiveness.

'How should you? But don't
forget.'

He kissed her hand,
holding it a little too long before turned to follow his father.

Aunt May loomed behind
her. 'Now there is an interesting young man.' A heavy frown marked her
forehead. 'Very presentable. I wonder why it is that I don't take to him.'

'Why on earth not?'
Frances looked at her in surprise. 'You seemed to find him very pleasant
company.'

'True.
But I don't know. Perhaps he was a little too pleasant. He is most gallant
with a manner that can only please, he seemed very anxious about you.'

'Yes.
He was. He is my cousin, after all.'

'Hmm.'
Aunt May was not to be put down. 'What a dreadfully common woman your aunt is.
I am amazed that she did not ask to look through your linen cupboards.'

Frances
raised her eyebrows. 'Were you possibly listening in to our conversation, Aunt
May?'

'I
tried, but not very successfully. Did she ask you if you were breeding yet?'

Frances
could not control the colour that flooded her face to the roots of her hair.

'Yes,
she did, if you must know.' Embarrassment clashed with indignation.

'And
are you?' She had not heard Aldeborough's approach until his gentle enquiry
caused her heart to jolt. His grey eyes were suddenly intent, holding her own
startled gaze.

Frances recovered
quickly. 'You will be the first to know, my lord, when I am!' she snapped and
turned on her heel. She had had enough of family for once and it was not even
midday.

The
week ended in true March fashion with high winds and violent storms. The Priory
was lashed by driving rain with standing water on the lawns and broken branches
everywhere. Confined to the house, Frances investigated the contents of a
much-neglected still room, throwing out the noxious substances that had been
decomposing in their jars for years. Aldeborough got down to some tenancy
agreements while Matthew prowled about and got under everyone's feet. Aunt May
took to her bed as the only sensible place for someone of her advanced
years—with Wellington and a bottle of claret for company.

Eventually
nature relented, producing a fine morning with scudding clouds and sunshine, to
the relief of everyone. Kington arrived, wet and mud splattered, to report to
Aldeborough who was cleaning guns in the gunroom with the renewed prospect of
some shooting.

'Nothing
to worry you, my lord, but I thought I should report. There's been some damage
with the high winds.'

'I
expected as much. Anything immediate?' Aldeborough put down the gun and started
to clean the oil from his fingers. 'The house seems watertight and we did not
lose any of the roof. I have not been down to the stables yet, but Selby hasn't
reported anything amiss.'

'No, that's fine, my lord. I don't know about the
tenants yet—I'm sure I will by the end of the day. Old Huckerby's cottage will
need re-roofing again for sure. But there are some trees down in Home Wood that
we need to clear and the ditches need unblocking along the West Road. The other
thing is the Chinese Bridge, where Tippet's Brook comes out of the West Lake.
Some hefty branches have smashed against the supports in the wind and become
wedged underneath so the bridge is unstable. It is still in one piece, but not
to be trusted. I thought I should tell you in case you or Lord Matthew rode out
that way.'

'Thank
you, Kington. I will warn everyone. It is not a priority—it is only ornamental,
so no one else from the village will use it. We can put it low on the list
after old Huckerby! You would do well to keep him sweet if you want him to
layer your hedges—he is still the best hedger I have ever seen, in spite of his
rheumatics.'

Kington
grinned. 'I am on my way to see him now. I will leave the matter of the bridge
to you then, my lord. I will go and warn Selby.'

'And I will inform
Lord Matthew.'

The house seemed to be empty. Eventually Aldeborough
ran Aunt May to earth.

'At
last. Someone alive in this place. Where is Frances?'

'I
will still be alive when you are dead and gone, my boy.' She frowned at him in
mock disapproval. 'As for Frances, when I last saw her she was planning a ride
to blow away some cobwebs. If you had been at breakfast with us, you would not
have to ask!'

He ignored her sharp
comments, well used to her lethal sniping. 'Do you know if she has gone alone?'

'How should I know?' A
spirit of mischief encouraged May to do a little none-too-gentle stirring. 'Why
did you not go with her?'

'It may have escaped your
notice, but I have been busy.'

'Hmm! Too busy to ride out
with your wife? It would not surprise me if she had gone to meet Cousin
Charles. Now, there is a fine upstanding man. He was very solicitous when he
called last week, or did you not notice? He has a very flattering way with him
and could be counted quite attractive. She might like a little masculine
attention.'

Aldeborough chose to
ignore the malicious sparkle in Lady Cotherstone's eyes, but could not quite
deny the sharp tug of jealousy. His lips tightened into a straight line that
May recognised with a surge of unholy glee.

'Since you do not know who
she might be riding with, perhaps you could tell me where she was intending to
go?' His tone was clipped on the verge of impatience.

'No.
You
should know. You are a fool, Hugh!'

'Thank you. I know I can
always depend on you for a useful comment!'

He turned towards the door
and then swung back, a frown beginning to gather between his bows. 'Do you
think she might have gone with Matthew?'

'Did I hear my name
mentioned?' Matthew came in, dressed for riding.

'Well, that answers my
question.' Aldeborough's frown developed, his eyebrows settling into a black
bar.

'Which one?'

'I was hoping that Frances
might have gone for a ride with you.'

'No. I have not seen her
since breakfast. I know she was keen to take the Spanish mare out, but she did
not say where she intended to ride. What's wrong?'

'Kington says the Chinese
bridge is in a dangerous state, so don't use it. I think I had better go and
look, just in case Frances decides to return by that route. It is probably
nothing, but...' He shrugged, but could not dislodge the sense of unease.

'I will come with
you.'

They
set off across the open parkland to the south. The wind was still blustery with
banks of cloud looming on the horizon, but the fitful sun made it a good day
for a ride. As expected, Selby had reported that her ladyship had taken the
Spanish mare, now christened Beeswing, about an hour ago and had headed across
the open pasture to the far belt of trees. And no, she hadn't taken a groom
with her.