To Protect An Heiress (Zebra Historical Romance) (2 page)

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Authors: Adrienne Basso

BOOK: To Protect An Heiress (Zebra Historical Romance)
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Blushing, Lavinia lowered her head.
Meredith abruptly glanced away. The emotion and longing on the marquess’s face had startled her, and she somehow felt as though she had intruded on a very personal, private moment—which was rather ridiculous, considering the number of people surrounding them.
Though she had witnessed it many times in the past, Meredith was once again struck by the closeness the pair radiated, even when standing so physically far apart.
Still, a slow smile spread over Meredith’s face. She might not entirely understand their relationship, but it made her happy to see the lightness that seemed to lift Lavinia’s heart whenever she saw her husband.
“My goodness, I just felt you shiver.” Meredith reached out and grasped her friend’s arm. “Are you cold, Lavinia?”
“Not at all.” A host of emotions crossed her face.
“ ’Tis Trevor. My husband can reduce me to a puddle of shivers with a single glance. Isn’t it marvelous?”
Truthfully, Meredith thought that sounded rather ridiculous, but she wasn’t about to hurt her dear friend’s feelings by saying anything. “Actually it sounds rather uncomfortable. Here, take my shawl. ’Tis a warm afternoon, but there is a bit of a breeze. Those short puffs of sleeves on your lavender gown are charming, but offer no protection.”
“I’m really not cold,” Lavinia protested, refusing the garment.
Meredith sighed, but did not press the matter. She heard Lavinia catch her breath as a second shiver went through the marchioness. Meredith turned her head, scanning the faces of those who ambled by, pretending to be completely absorbed by the strolling crowd. It seemed a better alternative than watching the woman at her side turn into a shivering puddle of lust.
However, at the marchioness’s third shiver, Meredith found she could no longer ignore the situation.
“Lavinia!”
“All right, I’ll take your shawl.”
“We both know that is not the cause of your shuddering,” Meredith retorted, her eyes narrowing.
Lavinia fixed her with an innocent look. “Nevertheless, it would not hurt to take special care of myself. Trevor is most solicitous of my health these days.”
“Have you been ill?”
“Goodness, no.” Lavinia waved away Meredith’s obvious concern as she adjusted the distinctively patterned silk shawl around her shoulders. “I have never felt better. Nor been happier.” The marchioness grinned slyly. “It appears I am in an interesting condition.”
Meredith frowned. “Interesting?”
“Rather interesting.”
Meredith’s frown deepened, as Lavinia stared expectantly at her. She knew the marchioness was trying to tell her something, and by the look of her it was a fairly significant something. Yet Meredith was completely puzzled.
After a few moments of silence, Lavinia rolled her eyes good-naturedly and laughed. “For an intelligent, quick-witted young woman, you can be a real slowtop at times.” The marchioness pressed her hand gently against her stomach. “An
interesting
condition.”
Meredith’s jaw dropped. “Good lord!”
A dreamy expression flitted across Lavinia’s lovely features. “Isn’t it miraculous? A baby. Trevor and I have been congratulating ourselves all week for being such a clever pair.” She sighed deeply. “We haven’t told anyone yet. It has been our own wonderful secret. But we are dining tonight with Trevor’s father and can hardly wait to inform the duke.”
Meredith’s throat tightened. “I am honored you saw fit to share this news with me.”
Lavinia tilted her head in surprise. “You are my dearest friend. Of course I would share my special secret with you.” The marchioness linked her arm with Meredith’s as the two woman began to stroll toward a cluster of guests. “I know I can count on your discretion. While I am thrilled about my condition, I prefer not to share it with the world.
“The rules restricting the movements of expectant mothers in Society are every bit as ridiculous as all the others. My doctor has informed me my condition will not become obvious for several months. As long as I continue to feel well, there is no reason not to enjoy the rest of the Season.”
Meredith flushed with guilty relief, pleased to discover Lavinia had no immediate plan to withdraw from Society. It would be intolerable trying to endure the final weeks of the Season without her friend attending at least some of the events.
“I am very happy for you, Lavinia. You shall make a wonderful mother.”
“Thank you.” Lavinia’s eyebrows raised. “Oh, dear, Lady Tolliver has spotted us and is gesturing for us to join her. I know how much she grates on your nerves, so I will not ask you to accompany me while I give her my regards.”
“You are a true friend.”
“Yes, I am.” The marchioness glanced anxiously among the guests. “Will you be all right on your own?”
“Stop worrying about me,” Meredith said, though her stomach tightened momentarily at the idea of being alone.
“We can meet near the Grecian folly on the other side of the ornamental lake,” Lavinia suggested. “In an hour?”
“Perfect.”
“Don’t forget your shawl.” Lavinia began removing the lovely garment from her shoulders but Meredith held up her hand.
“No, you wear it. There is bound to be more of a breeze near the water.” She winked at her friend. “After all, we must keep you in the best of health.”
The marchioness’s twinkling laugh lingered long after she strode away. With a small sigh, Meredith turned and lifted her parasol onto her shoulder, positioning it at the exact angle to protect her face from the sun. She wasn’t especially interested in preventing the warmth from reaching her skin, but the device helped shield her from prying eyes.
Assuring herself there was no reason for her heart to race and her nerves to twitch, Meredith moved forward to stroll with the other ladies and gentlemen over the gravel walks and sections of lawn. She returned the cool regard she received with a haughty watchfulness, the grip on her parasol tightening with each step.
“Lady Meredith. What a delightful surprise.”
Lord Jonathan Travers stepped directly in her path, neatly trapping her. Two large trees flanked them on either side, making it impossible to go around him. After a fractional hesitation, Meredith returned the young man’s greeting.
Though the number of her male admirers had dwindled during the Season, there were still those who thought her a challenge. Or a curiosity.
She had yet to decide Lord Travers’s motivation. He was a rather serious young man who put far too much stock in the opinion of others and could always be counted upon to supply the dullest of conversations.
Still, Meredith could think of worse things than spending a few moments in his company. She resolved to be pleasant and took comfort knowing she could escape in an hour and meet Lavinia by the water. With a glazed eye and a contrived expression, she turned her attention to Lord Travers.
“Are you enjoying the afternoon, Lord Travers?”
“All the more now that I have found you, Lady Meredith.”
Meredith gave him a distant smile, not wanting to encourage him in any way. She and Lavinia might have joked about it earlier, but the very last thing Meredith wanted was another marriage proposal.
Resolved to keep the attention away from herself, Meredith found she had little difficulty getting her escort to speak of other subjects—or offer his opinion. She wisely declined to offer hers, since it so seldom agreed with his.
With her fingers resting lightly on his arm, the pair strolled amiably in the sunshine.
The scream pierced the glib conversation with alarming suddenness—high pitched, female, and drenched in sheer terror.
“My God,” Meredith whispered. She turned in the direction of the sound, then back to her male companion. “What was that horrible noise?”
Lord Travers blanched under his tan. “It sounded like an animal caught in a trap.”
“It couldn’t be.”
Without conscious thought, Meredith moved forward, following the crowd that hurried across the lawn, then through the large cluster of trees. Men were yelling and running about, shouting questions and instructions with equal excitement.
Most of the women were staying deliberately out of the fray, though a few were bold or curious enough to follow the ever growing crowd. As they reached the small clearing and veered left, Meredith at last realized where they were heading. The lake.
Her step quickened as her heart began to pound with fear. She was to meet Lavinia at the lake in less than fifteen minutes’ time. A eerie vision slipped into Meredith’s head, weaving through the fear in her mind. A body, lying prone on the bank. Still. Unmoving.
Meredith gasped. Her heart slammed against her ribs. She dropped her parasol, lifted her gown above her ankles and quickened her pace. Dodging the slower walkers, she weaved among the crowd, gaining speed with each step. By the time she reached the muddy edge of the lake perspiration dampened her skin and her gasping breathing burned in her lungs.
“What has happened?” she asked in a breathless whisper.
A colorfully garbed dandy she did not recognize tried to block her view. “There appears to have been an accident.”
“Who is it?” another man cried out. “Do you know who has been hurt?”
“The Marchioness of Dardington,” a third man replied. “Her husband is with her.”
No!
Meredith began shaking with a terror that ran all the way down her body to her toes. For an instant she could not move, could not think, could not feel. Then, with strength born of primal fear, Meredith pushed her way through the men ringing the edge of crowd.
She dimly felt the touch of a hand trying to hold her back, but she shook it forcefully off and emerged but a few feet from a waking nightmare.
A moan escaped her lips. There, on the edge of the grass near the Grecian temple lay a body. A female body, clothed in lavender. It was not moving.
Meredith swallowed a shriek and fought to control her breathing. Stumbling forward, she came closer to the inert form. There were three men surrounding the body.
They were as still and silent as the form that lay at their feet.
Meredith struggled to master her emotions. Lavinia needed her to be calm. An hysterical female would only be in the way. But a cool, composed lady would be an asset. Resolutely she stepped forward. Saying nothing, the three men allowed her to pass.
Trevor Morely was kneeling beside his wife. His head was bent, yet Meredith could almost feel his whole being vibrating with suppressed emotion.
Her lips pressed stubbornly tight, Meredith knelt on the other side of Lavinia, facing the marquess. She tried to gaze down at the body, but could not bring herself to look. She did notice, however, that the marquess held his wife’s hand gently in his own.
They stayed that way for what seemed like an eternity. At last, he raised his head, but he did not release his wife’s hand.
Meredith watched him in silence, the muscle flexing and unflexing in his jaw. He said nothing as the speculative conversation surrounding them grew in volume and intensity.
“What a tragic accident! Her neck’s broken. She must have tripped and fell and fatally injured herself when she hit the ground.”
“Perhaps she was frightened by something,” a male voice muttered. “Why else would she have screamed?”
“A good fright would explain both the scream and the fall,” the third man interjected. “It might have been an animal. But what?”
“There are no wild beasts in the duchess’s folly. It wouldn’t be allowed.”
The speculation and muttering continued, but Meredith turned her attention away from it.
She looked again at the marquess and the grief inside her returned, stifling in its intensity. His face mirrored her own emotions of shock and pain, and she could see the faint trace of tears shimmering in his eyes.
Trembling, Meredith reached out to offer him comfort, but her hand faltered. Instead she grasped the fringed edge of the shawl that now draped Lavinia’s lifeless body.
Mesmerized, she slowly moved her hand, gliding it along the delicate silk, remembering how her friend had not wanted to wear the garment, saying there was no need.
The baby!
Stillness gripped her as she recalled Lavinia’s joking and laughing about being extra careful of her health.
Merciful God, that tender little life was gone now too.
Tearful, Meredith raised her chin. The marquess was no longer staring at his wife but looking straight at her. She couldn’t avoid his eyes.
Questioning, hollow, lifeless.
Meredith’s composure shattered. She lifted the edge of the shawl and stuffed it in her mouth, struggling to quiet her heaving sobs.
 
 
From the covering of trees, the man watched in silence. His breath blew out in panting gasps. His heart raced with a strange rush of exhilaration. He pressed his damp palms together and cast an approving glance at the scene before him.

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