by Buck, Gayle
If she had acted in her own self-interest, thought Thea, she would have accepted Lord Cardiff’s offer and not even told him about her great-aunt. But she had resisted temptation and her character was the better for it.
It was astonishing how disgruntled Thea felt with her own unselfish conduct.
Chapter Fourteen
As Lord Cardiff had promised, Mr. Thatcher Owen’s domicile was reached before the dinner hour. Though Thea had given her uncle’s direction to Lord Cardiff’s coachman, they had to stop twice to inquire the way because of the confusion of the winding country roads. At one point the coachman expressed some concern to Lord Cardiff about the lowering weather. Tiny snowflakes had begun to fall and were beginning to powder the hedgerows and rutted road. It would not be long before there would be a blanket of white covering all.
“Unless I miss my guess, it’ll come real snow and perhaps ice, too, before many more hours, m’lord.”
“Yes, I know,” said Cardiff, casting a considering glance up at the thin, bluish clouds. He gathered the horse’s reins between stiff gloved fingers, preparing to start on the way again. His breath frosted densely on the air. “I only hope the weather holds until tomorrow so that we may get well on our way. I’ve no wish to be stranded on these obscure roads by a sudden snowstorm.”
“Aye, nor I,” agreed John Coachman. “At least there’s not a wind to blow it into a man’s eyes. We’ll be able to see all right until nightfall.”
The gentle snow quietly continued to fall. It never swirled but simply fell to lie glistening under the obscured sun. The winter barrenness of the brown ground was eventually cloaked from sight. Glancing frequently out of the window, Thea thought she had rarely seen anything so beautiful as the transformation of the dreary countryside into a glittering winter wonderland. Of course, it was cold inside the carriage. The bricks had lost their heat, and her feet were beginning to feel like icy blocks. However, she imagined that it was much colder for Lord Cardiff in the saddle, and so she made up her mind not to regard the chilliness too much.
It was an hour more before the carriage turned in through an elaborately designed metal gate. Thea sat well forward, almost pressing her face against the glass in her anxiousness for her first glimpse of her uncle’s home. The graveled drive was long and wound through an avenue of graceful silver birch until it emerged before a modest manor house.
The late afternoon sun slanted across the leafless tops of the tall, dappled birch, shedding a mellow light onto the walls of the manor. The grounds were well kept and the snow-powdered vines covering one side of the manor were neatly trimmed away from the large-paned glass windows. Thea was encouraged by the manor’s friendly appearance. Surely the residents of such a welcoming aspect would prove to be hospitable.
The carriage slowed, then jolted to a stop. Thea waited expectantly. The door was unlatched and opened. Cardiff looked up at Thea and held up his gloved hand in invitation. “Pray allow me to help you, Miss Stafford. The iron step is icy and could be treacherous.”
“Thank you, my lord.” Thea gathered her cloak and skirt up in one hand so that she would not trip over the hems. She drew a steadying breath because her heart was pounding heavily. Now that the telling moment had arrived, she was feeling trepidation at the enormity of what she had undertaken. She had only vague memories of her uncle and aunt. She had really no notion of either their characters or their inclinations. It was not as though she was a beloved niece and therefore confident of her reception.
Thea gave her hand into Lord Cardiff’s firm grasp and stepped down out of the carriage, her reticule swinging on its strings from her wrist. She remembered the letter from her great-aunt which she had put in her reticule and felt slightly better. Surely Mrs. Partridge’s letter would help her cause.
Thea alighted to the ground and waited while Lord Cardiff politely turned and helped down the maid also. The young woman turned red at the unlooked-for attention.
Lord Cardiff’s groom had run lightly up the icy stone steps and rung the bell. When the heavy front door opened, the groom gave a slim white card to the butler and held a short conversation with him. Watching anxiously from beside the carriage, Thea thought she saw amazement cross the butler’s face.
The gravel crunched underfoot as Lord Cardiff came up beside Miss Stafford and drew her hand through his elbow. He felt the quivering of her gloved fingers and gave them a reassuring squeeze. When she looked up, he smiled down into her darkened, worried eyes. “Courage, Miss Stafford.”
She nodded and straightened her shoulders. “I am quite ready, my lord,” she said quietly.
“That’s the spirit,” said Cardiff approvingly.
Thea and Lord Cardiff walked up the steps, through the open door, and into the warmth of the manor. They were received in the wide entry hall by the butler, supported by a footman. The servants took their outer garments before the butler politely ushered them through a polished paneled door into a side parlor.
The chambermaid who had accompanied Thea on the journey had followed her new mistress into the house, and she stood staring around her with rounded eyes until she was told by the footman to take one of the chairs in the entry hall. The woman hastily seated herself, nervously perching on the edge of the embroidered seat cushion.
The butler assured the unexpected visitors that he would announce them. He stepped backward, and the door closed softly. Lord Cardiff and Thea were left on their own. Thea did not know what to do. She supposed she ought to sit down on one of the expensively covered silk-striped sofas, as though she was a normal visitor, but she was too keyed up to do so. She smoothed the edges of her cloak in a telling gesture.
Cardiff strolled casually around the parlor, taking note of the tasteful modern furnishings and the fact that a well-lit fire was quietly radiating heat from the stone hearth even though the room had not been in immediate use. These things told him that Mr. Thatcher Owen was neither parsimonious nor poverty-stricken, and that was a point in the gentleman’s favor. Perhaps Mr. Owen would be discovered to be as generous towards a scarcely known niece as he was with his household accounts. He did not air his speculations, however, because he did not wish to give Miss Stafford the impression that he had ever held doubts about her chances. “It is a finely appointed room,” he commented.
Thea nodded, casting a nervous glance about her. “Yes, it is. My lord, I am afraid that I may have made a mistake in coming. I—I have not seen my uncle in many years. He cannot have retained affection for me, and I see now that I have assumed too much.”
Cardiff shook his head, flashing a reassuring smile. “You have not made a mistake, Miss Stafford. Rather, you have taken a calculated risk. They are not quite the same things. If your uncle is a gentleman of proper family feeling, then you shall have gained what you set out to do.”
“I trust that you are correct, my lord,” said Thea, summoning up a smile in her turn. She could not completely hide the worry in her eyes, however.
Cardiff could see her apprehension, which was only natural under the circumstances, but he tried to reassure her the best that he could. “Remember, Miss Stafford, whatever happens, I will stand your friend. If it does not fall out the way that you hope, then we shall fall back onto my original intent and be wed as soon as I may contrive it.”
Thea felt her throat close up. She was ashamed of her own earlier thoughts regarding his lordship’s self-interested motivation. He was still willing to subjugate his own desires to the call of honor, if her welfare could not be attained in any other way. Lord Cardiff was most truly a gentleman, and she doubted she would ever find another who could measure up to him. In a low voice, she said, “My lord, you do me too much honor.”
Cardiff shrugged and gave a short laugh. She obviously had no inkling of the warmer emotion that had begun to steal into his heart. He made no reply, however, deeming it unnecessary. He went over to stand angled in front of the fire, hoping that the warmth would ease the cramping ache in his shoulder. God, he was
tired. He was not as fit as he had thought himself if a simple day’s ride in the cold could affect him to such an extent.
Thea saw that Lord Cardiff was staring down at the crackling flames, his expression withdrawn. There was a tightness about his mobile mouth that prohibited her from addressing him. Thea sat down in a wing chair that was close to the hearth. There was no point in standing in awkward silence when she could be comfortable and thaw her feet.
It was not many minutes before the parlor was opened. A tall, stooped man entered with a quick step. Thea nervously jumped up from the chair, clasping the back of it for support. She looked anxiously at the elderly gentleman and was somewhat relieved when she found she recognized him.
Mr. Owen possessed a shock of thick white hair, which appeared striking above grizzled brows and heavy-lidded brown eyes. There was a frowning expression in his dark eyes, and his mouth was held in firm lines. He was attired in the usual frock coat, trousers and boots of the country gentleman. A singularly beautiful emerald set in a gold signet ring graced his left hand.
Still holding the brass doorknob with one hand, Mr. Owen stood aside to usher in a plump matron of indeterminate years. The lady was attired with exquisite taste in a dove gray day gown that had obviously come from the hands of a superior modiste, and she carried an expensive Norwich silk shawl draped over her elbows. Sapphires gleamed in the lady’s ears and about her neck.
Thea did not remember her aunt, but when she met the lady’s bright blue gaze, she felt a knot loosen inside her. There was kindness and speculation in her aunt’s expression.
Thea did not quail as strongly at the thought of appealing to these relations who were virtually strangers to her
Mr. Owen did not look at once in Thea’s direction, but instead held out his hand towards Lord Cardiff, who had straightened and turned at the elderly couple’s entrance. “My lord! I am honored to make your acquaintance. You may imagine my surprise when your card was brought in. I have read of your exploits many times in the dispatches.”
Thea glanced quickly at Lord Cardiff. She had not known before that he had been mentioned in the dispatches. That meant his lordship had been commended for his bravery and attention to duty. She was really unsurprised to discover it, for Lord Cardiff had always seemed to her to possess heroic qualities in plenty.
Cardiff left the hearth and walked forward to shake hands with Mr. Owen. He smiled with the warmth of his easy charm. “I am only glad that you agreed to receive me, Mr. Owen.”
“There was never any question of that, my lord.”
Mr. Owen drew forward his wife and formally introduced her. Mrs. Owen graciously acknowledged his lordship, before turning her smile towards the young lady still standing uncertainly beside a wing chair and clutching the top of its curved back for support. “I believe we have another interesting guest besides his lordship, Mr. Owen.”
“Quite,” said Mr. Owen, his voice expressing nothing but polite civility.
Cardiff smiled encouragingly at Thea as she took a hesitant step forward. He held out his hand to her and when she laid hers in his, drew her up to join them. “Allow me to present your niece, Miss Thea Stafford. I have escorted her to you at her own request.”
“Indeed!” said Mrs. Owen with an inflection of surprise and curiosity.
Mr. Owen had finally turned his frowning gaze on Thea, only to stare more closely at her. A strange expression flickered across his face. “My God! The resemblance is uncanny!” he said hoarsely.
“I have always been told that I favored my mother. I am glad to discover it is true,” said Thea nervously. She dipped a small curtsy to her uncle and aunt. “I am most happy to renew my acquaintance with you.”
Mr. Owen’s dark eyes were rived on his niece’s countenance. Under his unblinking regard, a flush began to mount to Thea’s cheeks.
“Pray stop staring the poor girl out of countenance, Mr. Owen,” said Mrs. Owen in gentle rebuke.
Mr. Owen seemed to shake himself out of his stupefaction, and the intensity of his dark gaze lessened. However, he was not behind in expressing his curiosity. “But how is it that you have come here, niece?” He glanced towards Lord Cardiff and back again at his niece. His face lengthened into a deep-lined frown. “And in Lord Cardiff’s company?”
All at once Thea realized just how others might view Lord Cardiff’s presence along with her. His lordship was not related to her, and it was definitely not conventional to be traveling about in a gentleman’s company who was related by neither blood nor marriage. Once again she had fallen foul of society’s rules and she almost groaned in frustration. Would she never be allowed to return to her former life, unfettered by suspicion and the whiff of scandal? All at once she was glad for her great-aunt’s insistence that she send a personal note by way of Thea to the Owens.
“I—I have a letter from my great-aunt, Mrs. Partridge, which might shed some light, sir,” she said, opening her reticule and drawing out the sealed billet.
Mr. Owen took the letter, his face expressing his surprise. “Theresa Partridge? But how does she fit into this?”
“I am certain that it is a vastly interesting story,” said Mrs. Owen in her placid way. “Pray let us all sit down and be comfortable during the telling. I shall ring for tea, for it was undoubtedly a cold drive today and you will be glad of something hot, I expect.”
Suiting action to words, Mrs. Owen arranged for a tea tray to be brought in and insisted upon the visitors taking the most comfortable chairs, while she and Mr. Owen settled on the cushioned sofa opposite them. She kept up a gentle flow of impersonal conversation that was free of embarrassing questions or allusions and to which Thea and Lord Cardiff were able to respond with ease.
Mr. Owen slit open the seal on Mrs. Partridge’s letter with his thumbnail and spread out the single sheet. He scanned it rapidly, his brows rising in momentary amazement at what he read. Then he slowly folded the letter and tapped it into his palm, directing a thoughtful gaze at his niece and Lord Cardiff.
Before the tea was even poured, Mrs. Owen had given orders for Thea’s maid to be shown upstairs to a spare bedchamber where her mistress’s belongings could be unpacked and for Lord Cardiff’s servants and his lordship’s horses to be given proper care. “You will naturally stay to dinner, my lord,” she said with a gentle smile.
Cardiff bowed his acceptance, his expression one of easy good humor. “If I may encroach on your hospitality further, Mr. Owen, would it be possible for one of your stable hands to return the horse which I rode here back to the inn from where I got it?”
“Of course, my lord. Nothing could be simpler. I shall send a message down to the stables at once,” said Mr. Owen. He beckoned the butler to him and spoke a few words to him. The butler nodded understanding.
Cardiff murmured his thanks. If he would have preferred to begin his return journey that same evening, there was nothing in either his face or his demeanor to lead one to suspect it. For all the notice he gave, it was perfectly acceptable to him that his carriage had been directed around to the stables and his servants given refreshment and shelter in preparation for the night.
Mr. Owen was content enough to allow his wife to manage such domestic matters to her satisfaction. He had set aside the letter in order to accept the cup and saucer which Mrs. Owen offered to him, and he lifted the steaming cup to his lips. He sat quite at ease, one long leg crossed over the other, the picture of a benevolent host.
However, as soon as the tea was served and the butler had withdrawn, and he was assured there would be no interruptions, Mr. Owen set aside his cup and saucer with a decisive clatter. “Now, niece, I wish an explanation. My brain is rife with speculations, none of which quite satisfy me. Mrs. Partridge’s letter only stirs up more questions. You perceive I do not question your identity, for you look too much like my dear sister—your mother—for me to deny the connection. However, I do wonder at your abrupt arrival on my doorstep on a winter’s eve.”
“Now, Thatcher, gi
ve the poor girl a moment to swallow her tea. You have made her choke,” said Mrs. Owen mildly, sipping her own with a serene expression.
Mr. Owen grunted. “It seems that I have done nothing right, my dear. You will say that I have twice now set out to put her out of countenance, but I have done no such thing. Very well! I await my niece’s pleasure.” There was an irascible note in his voice, hinting at an underlying impatience of temperament.
Thea threw a helpless glance around and tried to muffle her coughing in her napkin. She was hot from embarrassment, for in her view it could not have happened at a worse time. She had wished to make the perfect impression her relations.
“Perhaps while Miss Stafford recovers, I should begin an explanation of my own presence,” said Cardiff smoothly, stepping at once into the breach.
Mr. Owen gave an approving nod. He picked up his cup and saucer again and leisurely lifted the cup to his thin lips. “Pray continue, my lord.”
“I was putting up at an inn on the road to London after visiting friends in the country. I met Miss Stafford when I overheard a conversation between her and a very unpleasant gentleman. I felt myself compelled to intervene in what I learned to my startlement was a forcible abduction,” said Cardiff matter-of-factly.
Chapter Fifteen
It was Mr. Owen’s turn to splutter over a mouthful of tea. “Wh-what?”
Mrs. Owen patted her husband helpfully on the back. “How very shocking, to be sure,” she said. Her gaze was bright with interest. “I suppose you were successful in your intervention, my lord?”
“Quite,” said Cardiff, casually flicking a bit of lint from his coat sleeve.
“His lordship knocked Mr. Quarles down and had the innkeeper put him out of the inn.” Thea was anxious that Lord Cardiff receive all of the credit which was due him. She threw a warm glance in his lordship’s direction. “I was never in my life more grateful to anyone.”