The Fleeing Heiress: A funny flight into love.

by Buck, Gayle

“Who was this Mr. Quarles and how did he come to abduct you?” asked Mr. Owen hoarsely. He was still not fully recovered and cleared his throat a couple of times more.

  Thea explained the entire thing to her uncle, enlarging upon her story as she recalled various points. Mr. Owen listened, his gaze never shifting from her face, and with his lips tightly compressed. Once he muttered a wrathful exclamation, but when Thea stopped to look a question, he waved her on and did not again interrupt her narrative.

  “Then Papa and my brothers arrived.” Thea bit her lip, remembering vividly the outcome of that memorable meeting.

  “I take it that your papa was not best pleased by your situation?” asked Mrs. Owen quietly and with exquisite tact.

  Thea shook her head. Her eyes sparked with a glitter of anger. “No, Papa was not! Everything would have been fine, however, if it had not been for Philip’s contention that I had to be wed at once. And Papa—” She could not go on and looked down at her cup and saucer. That her father could have behaved so improperly still had the power to recall her to burning humiliation.

  Cardiff realized that Miss Stafford had come to the breach and was unable to expose the full foolishness of her parent. He sympathized, for it could not be an easy revelation. “In short, Mr. Stafford decided that I should be made to wed his daughter out of hand, and at once, in order to preserve her good name,” said Cardiff quietly.

  The Owens gaped in open astonishment. Mr. Owen shook his head as though he could not be certain of what he had heard. He started to say something, but apparently thought better of it.

  “You, my lord?” faltered Mrs. Owen. She also shook her head in apparent bewilderment. She exchanged pungent glances with her husband. “I do not understand. It was not you who had compromised my niece.”

  “Exactly, Aunt! I tried to reason with Papa but he would not listen,” exclaimed Thea, glad that her own opinion on that mortifying occasion had been given legitimacy. “He told my brothers to carry Lord Cardiff and me to Gretna Green while he went after Mr. Quarles.”

  “Ridiculous!” said Mr. Owen hastily. “A gentleman of Lord Cardiff’s stamp would never agree to such arrant nonsense.”

  “You are quite right, sir. I did not agree; but my protests were overruled,” said Cardiff, a hint of rueful laughter in his voice. He meditatively sipped his tea while his audience waited expectantly for him to continue, which he did in a thoughtful tone. “I discovered that one cannot argue very effectively against a leveled pistol.”

  “Outrageous! Utterly outrageous! Now I understand Mrs. Partridge’s envenomed references to my brother-in-law.” Mr. Owen seemed unable to contain himself any longer. He snapped down the cup and saucer on an occasional table, causing the china to rattle, and jumped to his feet.

  “Now, Thatcher, pray do watch your tongue,” said Mrs. Owen warningly. “You tend to utter things you later regret when you let yourself get into a taking.”

  Mr. Owen seemed not to hear his wife. He took a quick turn about the parlor, swinging around at last to say in a blighting tone, “I unhesitatingly condemn Stafford’s handling of this matter. You have my abject apologies, my lord, for the humiliation you have suffered at my brother-in-law’s hands.”

  “I respect your sentiments, sir. Thank you,” said Cardiff with a slight bow.

  Mr. Owen shook his head again, his expression darkened. “I never considered Stafford to be a gentleman of good understanding. I am more than ever convinced of it. You must have thought him to be mad!”

  Thea went hot with embarrassment. It was one thing to become all too aware of your parent’s failings, but quite another to hear the same pronounced by one was essentially a stranger to her. With as much dignity as possible, she said, “Papa cares for me very much, Uncle. He—he is perhaps not very wise, but nevertheless I have never doubted his affection for me.”

  Mr. Owen’s only reply was a loud snort of derision. He took another turn around the parlor, his hands clasped behind him. He was heard to mutter under his breath.

  Mrs. Owen apparently felt herself obliged to soften her spouse’s reaction. She addressed her niece with open sympathy. “My poor dear! You have had a horrid time of it, haven’t you? I am so very glad that Lord Cardiff had the sense to bring you to us.”

  “Indeed! You cannot be blamed for running away from such an idiot,” said Mr. Owen bitingly over his shoulder.

  Thea pressed her lips tightly together, her color becoming high. Her large eyes flashed at her uncle before she lowered her gaze. It was difficult to sit silent while her uncle belittled her father, but Thea realized her uncle’s denouncement was only what she might have expected. She had even told Lord Cardiff of the depth of bad feeling between her father and uncle, so why it should surprise her when ft surfaced she did not know.

  Mrs. Owen hurried into speech, directing an admonishing frown at her spouse as she did so. “I suspect we all need a little time to adjust to this surprising turn of affairs.” She set aside her tea and rose to her feet. Holding out her hand in invitation, she said, “Come, Thea. I shall take you upstairs to your room. You must be quite exhausted by this entire ordeal. Your maid will undoubtedly be able to make you more comfortable by bringing up warm water to wash in, and naturally you will wish to change before dinner.”

  “Thank you, Aunt,” said Thea quietly. She was grateful that she was to be given some time to herself. Solitude would allow her to regain something of her equilibrium. It had been an emotional day, including as it had her great-aunt’s surprising refusal to aid her and now her uncle’s obvious disaffection for her father.

  Mrs. Owen paused before she left and smiled at her other guest. “Lord Cardiff, pray let our butler know when you wish to be shown upstairs, as well. I assure you hat you are most welcome to stay the night.”

  Lord Cardiff and Mr. Owen had respectfully stood up when the ladies rose to their feet. Lord Cardiff bowed in acknowledgment of Mrs. Owen’s gracious invitation. With his winning smile, he said, “Thank you, ma’am. I will be glad of your hospitality.”

  For a moment he watched while Mrs. Owen and Miss Stafford crossed the room towards the door, before his attention was once more claimed by his host.

  “I gathered earlier that you do not have your man with you, Lord Cardiff. I shall send mine to you to render whatever service you might require,” said Mr. Owen.

  “In truth, I shall be glad of it, sir. I fear I do not even have a proper change of clothes for dinner,” said Cardiff with a laugh. More to the point, he thought, he needed the man’s help in easing him out of his coat. His shoulder was still aching from exposure to the cold and the tension of holding the reins during the long ride that day.

  “We shall not stand on ceremony, my lord,” said Mr. Owen, waving aside his lordship’s rueful apology.

  As Mrs. Owen opened the door and ushered Thea out into the entry hall, Thea overheard her uncle once more address Lord Cardiff.

  “Lord Cardiff, I suspect there is more that has been skimmed over in my niece’s and your own account. I wish you will be perfectly plain with me, my lord.”

  “Of course, Mr. Owen. I am entirely at your service.”

  Thea wondered what her uncle might ask Lord Cardiff, and flushed. Whatever his lordship said would not reflect well upon her situation or her family. It had been a horrid tangle from first to last.

  Mrs. Owen kept up a light patter of social talk, her arm hooked in Thea’s, as she led the way up the broad, carpeted stairs. On the second floor, Mrs. Owen civilly ushered Thea into a large, well-appointed bedchamber. A curtained four-poster of mahogany dominated one side of the room, and the chambermaid who had accompanied Thea was efficiently turning down the fine bedclothes and plumping the bolsters. A large wardrobe stood opposite the bed, its doors standing wide. Thea’s scant belongings looked meager hanging inside its spacious, paneled interior. The fire that crackled merrily in the grate lent a cheery glow against the gloom that could be seen outside through the frosted windowpanes. Two wing chairs had bee
n set cosily opposite one another in front of the hearth.

  Thea untied the ribbons of her bonnet and took it off, laying the bonnet with exaggerated care on a bedside table. She felt drained by the myriad of emotions she had been experiencing for the past several hours, and she knew it was not yet over. Otherwise her aunt would not have accompanied her, but would instead have rung for a servant to show her upstairs.

  At a pleasant word from Mrs. Owen, the chambermaid curtsied and left the bedchamber. Once they were alone, Mrs. Owen folded together her hands in front of her waist and looked over at Thea with a speculative gaze. “Well, dear niece, you have had quite an adventure. Much of it sounds to have been very uncomfortable. We shall speak no more of it unless you wish otherwise, for I have always found it is best to forget unpleasant things.”

  “I am certain that is true. Aunt,” said Thea quietly. She waited for what else her aunt might have to say, for it was obvious Mrs. Owen had not sent the chambermaid away in order to voice a simple platitude.

  “Now we must decide what is to be done with you,” said Mrs. Owen in a considering voice. Her gaze touched Thea’s face and traveled down and up again, to come to rest once more on her niece’s fair countenance.

  Thea looked back steadily at her aunt. Her heart beating heavily again from mixed hope and apprehension. “What do you propose, dear ma’am?”

  “It is up to your uncle, of course, but I rather think you would do well to make your home with us for a time,” said Mrs. Owen placidly.

  Thea’s lips trembled. Her sweeping sense of relief was enormous. She made an effort to control her voice and manage a cool civility. “Thank you, Aunt. I had hoped that I could take refuge with you and my uncle.”

  “You were quite right to apply to us, my dear. As I said, it is up to your uncle, but from what he has already said I believe he will need little convincing. He does not care for your father overmuch, you see, and is inclined to do just what will most irritate Mr. Stafford,” said Mrs. Owen with the hint of smile.

  “Oh, dear,” said Thea, somewhat taken aback. “I had not thought of that. I hope there will not be too much trouble between my father and my uncle.

  “Pray do not give it another thought, my dear. There is not the least thing one can do to change the inevitable,” said Mrs. Owen serenely.

  Thea did not know what to make of her aunt’s placid observation and wisely decided not to venture an opinion.

  Mrs. Owen moved a couple of steps forward so that she could more easily scan Thea’s things in the wardrobe. She pursed her lips. Thoughtfully, she added, “In the next day or so I shall write a civil letter to your father to tell him that I have invited you for a long stay with us. I shall naturally request that your maid and your wardrobe be sent to you.”

  “I will be glad of it, ma’am,” said Thea gratefully. “I hope Papa does as he is asked. As you have obviously noted, my present wardrobe is somewhat lacking. Two of the gowns I have were purchased from a village modiste who had had them left on her hands.”

  “I really did not think that was your usual quality of dress, my dear. It is quite obvious that the walking dress you are wearing was not made for you. It is the tiniest bit too short, besides being of an ill cut for your figure,” said Mrs. Owen dryly. “Nor did I believe for a moment that young woman you brought with you was a true lady’s maid.”

  “No, ma’am. She was a chambermaid at the inn whom Lord Cardiff bribed to accompany us in order to lend me countenance,” said Thea, making a clean disclosure of her odd circumstances.

  “Lord Cardiff is a very practical gentleman,” observed Mrs. Owen. She seated herself in one of the wing chairs situated in front of the hearth and gestured for her niece to be seated opposite her.

  When Thea sat down, Mrs. Owen regarded her with a keen appraisal. “You are not quite a beauty, but you are well enough. Tell me, Thea, what does Lord Cardiff think of you?”

  Thea felt heat rise into her face which had nothing to do with the reflected warmth of the fire. She chose her words with care. “I do not know, Aunt. However, I expect that he will be glad to be rid of responsibility for me. I have been the cause of much trouble to his lordship.”

  “Quite. Yet one might say that Lord Cardiff has gone out of his way to be of service to you,” said Mrs. Owen.

  “His lordship has a high standard of honor, ma’am,” said Thea quietly.

  Mrs. Owen smiled. “Of course he does. He is a gentleman of the finest order.” She regarded her niece with a kind expression. “Pray be frank with me, Thea. Have you any regard for Lord Cardiff?”

  Thea managed a small laugh. “How could it be otherwise, ma’am? He appeared first to my dazed sight in the guise of a hero. He has been consistently kind and chivalrous and forebearing. I do not know of anyone else who would have endured all that he did at the hands of my father and my brothers and ended by seeing me into your safekeeping.”

  “Indeed! Lord Cardiff is obviously a paragon,” said Mrs. Owen, nodding. She fixed a compelling but compassionate gaze on her niece. “My dear Thea, did his lordship make an offer for you?”

  Thea bowed her head and looked down at her clasped hands with inordinate interest. She was reluctant to reveal the truth, but felt she could not deny it. “Yes, Aunt, he did. I refused him, of course.”

  “And why was that, dear?”

  Thea looked up quickly, her eyes very wide. “Why, I could not possibly accept his suit! Surely you must understand why. Such a sacrifice on his lordship’s part became unnecessary when I thought of my great-aunt, Mrs. Partridge, and he offered to escort me to her. I thought when she refused to have me stay with her that Lord Cardiff might insist on wedding me after all. But then she sent me to you and my uncle, and all is working out for the best for everyone.”

  “Quite.” Mrs. Owen’s tone was dry. “Your scruples do you honor, Thea. However, I cannot help but think that you would have done even better for yourself by accepting Lord Cardiff’s offer. He is a very eligible parti, you know. We number his lordship’s sire, his Grace the Duke of Armouth, among our several acquaintances. It is a noble family.”

  Thea swallowed. Her aunt’s words were much the same that a little voice had been whispering to her for hours since she had first insisted on applying first to her great-aunt and then to her uncle for succor. “Perhaps you are correct, ma’am. But I could not serve his lordship such a backhanded turn.”

  “Such a pity.” Mrs. Owen reflected with obvious regret on what might have been. She gave a small sigh. “It would have been a brilliant match. And I suspect that you are not quite as indifferent to Lord Cardiff as you would like everyone to believe.”

  Unable to deny it, Thea shook her head. “No, ma’am, I am not,” she admitted quietly. The flicker of a smile crossed her face as she made the tiniest gesture to indicate her helplessness, “I admire and respect Lord Cardiff more than anyone of my acquaintance.”

  Mrs. Owen nodded her understanding. She thought she understood far more than even her niece. “I shall not tease you anymore, my dear.” She rose and stepped close enough so that she could kindly pat her niece on the shoulder. “I shall let you rest a few minutes before I send your maid back to you in time to dress for dinner. We shall have more opportunity to visit in days to come.”

  “Thank you, ma’am,” said Thea.

  Mrs. Owen tactfully withdrew, leaving her niece alone with her reflections. As Mrs. Owen exited the bedroom she wore the hint of a frown on her face, but her niece was not privileged to see it.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Over dinner that evening a good rapport was established between Thea and the Owens. She attributed it as much to Lord Cardiff’s presence as she did to any of her own anxious desire to make a good impression on her aunt and uncle.

  The conversation was at first a trifle stilted, all parties concerned being overly polite. Mr. Owen in particular forged forward with painstaking effort. He had obviously been coached by his wife to show forbearance for the sake of his niece’
s sensibilities and went out of his way not to make reference to his absent brother-in-law. On her side, Thea was painfully aware of her uncle’s reticence, and while she appreciated it, she felt constrained in what she could say because she did not wish to utter anything which might prove too much of a temptation for her uncle to pass by.

  However, Lord Cardiff’s polished ease swiftly served to thaw the atmosphere. His ability to make himself agreeable and to introduce such topics as must interest any company in which he found himself was profoundly salubrious. Mr. Owen liked his lordship’s sensible assessments of England’s progress in the war; Mrs. Owen enjoyed Lord Cardiff’s pretty compliments on her domicile and his lordship’s company manners; and Thea was diverted by his lordship’s telling of some amusing anecdotes, which generally showed himself and his friends in a derisive light. Altogether Lord Cardiff proved himself an amusing and interesting dinner companion to the entire party.

  Whenever Thea looked back on that evening, it was always with a lingering smile because it had been made so pleasant for her by Lord Cardiff. At the time, she simply appreciated the fact that his presence eased what could have been a horridly uncomfortable gathering.

  After the excellent four-course dinner was finished, Mrs. Owen led Thea out of the dining room to leave the gentlemen with their port. When she and Thea entered the parlor, Mrs. Owen invited her niece to sit down beside her to converse. She learned much about her niece in those first several minutes that made her think well of Thea. In her gentle questioning, Mrs. Owen also discovered that Thea had a love for music. “You must have inherited your interest from your mother, for I recall that she was a very pretty performer at the pianoforte,” she remarked.

  “It was Mama who gave me my first lessons,” said Thea with a softening look in her eyes.

  “Why do you not play an air for me? I would very much enjoy it, I am sure,” said Mrs. Owen civilly. She knew her duty as a hostess, and even if her niece turned out to be tone-deaf, she would politely applaud and request an encore.