The Fleeing Heiress: A funny flight into love.

by Buck, Gayle

  Thea demurred at first, but at Mrs. Owen’s continued urging, she finally capitulated and seated herself at the pianoforte. She began to play a few airs and was thrilled with the quality of the instrument. Her graceful fingers found the keys with confidence and caressed them with the touch of a maestro.

  Thea quickly lost herself in the music and became totally unconscious that she had a listener. Now and again she hummed or lifted her voice in accompaniment to her own playing. The music was a comfort to her bruised spirit, and she gave herself up to it wholly.

  As the melodies began to flow one into another, Mrs. Owen listened with growing astonishment. Thea had a vast repertoire at her command which she performed with obvious adoration and passion. Mrs. Owen realized that her niece had a definite gift. She was delighted by the discovery. It spoke well for Thea’s background in at least the maidenly accomplishments.

  The gentlemen did not linger overlong over their wine but came into the parlor to join the ladies for coffee. When they entered, Mrs. Owen held a finger to her lips, enjoining their silence, and gestured an invitation to her husband and Lord Cardiff to be seated. They obeyed Mrs. Owen’s injunction, their separate gazes resting on the young lady seated at the pianoforte while they listened.

  Thea had become so entirely wrapped up in her music that she did not notice the gentlemen’s quiet entrance. When she came to the end of the air she was playing, she was startled by a burst of applause behind her. She swung around on the stool and flushed when she saw that she had acquired a larger audience. “Oh! Pray forgive me. I did not realize I had been playing for so long.”

  “It is quite all right, Thea,” said Mrs. Owen with an approving smile. “I did not wish to stop you.”

  “Brava, my dear! Pray continue,” said Mr. Owen. He was very pleased by his niece’s performance. “You play exceedingly well.”

  “Yes, Miss Stafford. It is quite a treat to listen to someone who plays as well as you do,” said Cardiff quietly. He did not believe that he had ever heard better on any stage. He was still in thrall of the beauty of her performance. The soaring silver of the melodies seemed to fill the corridors of his mind.

  Thea’s blush deepened with Lord Cardiff’s praise. She smiled and inclined her head, her eyes glowing like deep-colored jewels. “You are all exceedingly kind. But I fear that I have exhausted my repertoire.”

  “There is sheet music on top of the pianoforte,” said Mrs. Owen. “Pray indulge us with a few more selections, Thea.”

  Cardiff at once seized the opportunity. “Perhaps you will permit me to turn your music?” he asked, getting up from his wing chair even as he spoke.

  “Certainly, my lord,” said Thea with a shy smile. “I would like that very much.”

  Cardiff moved to the pianoforte and stood slightly to the side so that he could watch her face as she played. The candlelight shed soft light on her face, and her obvious happiness with the music was a new side of Miss Stafford that he found peculiarly intriguing. Something stirred in him, and he recognized that he was responding to the passion he glimpsed in her. For the moment it was enough to simply be standing where he was, pleasantly drawn under Miss Stafford’s unexpected spell.

  She looked up at that instant and their gazes meshed for a suspended second. Thea dropped her eyes, her color heightened. She had not ever seen that banked glow in a gentleman’s eyes before, but instinctively she knew what it was, and her own body heated as though with a fever. It made a slight tremor run through her, and her fingers faltered just for an instant on the keys. She regained command almost at once so that the mistake was nearly imperceptible.

  Mrs. Owen drew her spouse’s attention to the pair at the pianoforte. “See how our niece looks up at Lord Cardiff, Thatcher. She is half in love with him, unless I miss my guess.”

  “His lordship is somewhat taken with her, too,” said Mr. Owen, observing the warmth of Lord Cardiff’s expression as his gaze rested on Thea. He recalled the history of the pair’s meeting and regretfully shook his head. “It’s a pity that things have gone the way they have. He’ll hardly wish to align himself with such a family after the way the Staffords have treated him.”

  “Indeed, it is a pity.”

  The elderly couple listened and watched for a few more minutes. Mrs. Owen nodded to herself as though coming to some decision.

  “Thatcher, I have it in mind to bring that poor girl out,” said Mrs. Owen. “Blessed though we undoubtedly were with two sons, both of whom married well and are content, I yet find myself wondering what it would be like to launch a daughter into the world. And now here is poor Thea come to us. It is almost providential.”

  “I shall not argue a fine point of theology, dear wife. However, I can find no fault in your generous notion. Our niece is well-bred and a credit to her mother, at least. I should like to do something for her, if for no other reason than for the sake of the affection that I held for my sister,” said Mr. Owen somberly. His lips thinned to a forbidding line, and there came a bite into his voice. “Of course, I should like to put that idiot Stafford’s nose out of joint besides.”

  Mrs. Owen brushed over her husband’s last comment, deeming it insignificant. “Then if you approve, I shall broach the subject to Thea later and ask her if she would like it,” she said.

  “Do just as you wish, my dear. The girl would be a ninny to turn down such an opportunity,” said Mr. Owen.

  “Just so; and I do not believe Thea is quite a fool,” said Mrs. Owen placidly.

  The impromptu musicale ended when the coffee um was brought in by the butler. Coffee was served, along with a selection of nuts and biscuits and delicately decorated chocolate truffles. Mr. Owen claimed Lord Cardiff’s attention and Thea sat down beside her aunt.

  Mrs. Owen lost no time in putting forward her invitation. Thea was astonished and touched by her aunt’s proposal. She paled slightly, then pinkened with an absurd pleasure. “My dear ma’am! It would naturally be a wonderful treat for me. I never expected—” She shook her head quickly. “But I cannot accept such generosity from you and my uncle! It would not be right of me. I would be presuming too much on our connection, for I have no claim upon your affections.”

  “True enough, my dear. However, I am already developing a fondness for you, which shall undoubtedly take firmer root as we come to know one another better. As for your uncle, his affection for your mother strongly inclines him toward you, and it is his expressed wish to do something for you in her memory,” said Mrs. Owen. She took her niece’s hand and slightly squeezed the younger woman’s slender fingers. With a wistful smile, she added, “So you see, Thea, it would be positively uncivil of you not to allow us this opportunity.”

  Thea decided she could scarcely decline the invitation in the face of such gentle persuasion. “Very well, ma’am. I shall accept your invitation and with much gratitude. But what of Papa? He might very well deny his permission, for I know that he and my uncle are estranged. And there is Tabitha, too. She is the eldest and—”

  Mrs. Owen laughed and threw up her hand. “My dear! You make too much of a molehill, believe me. When I write your father, I shall suggest that your reputation can be repaired very nicely if it is put about that you were supposed to come to us for this very purpose. He may explain to any of the curious that since you resemble your mother, your uncle has taken particular interest in your future, which has all the benefit of being the truth. As for your sister, we must trust your father to know best how to spare her feelings.”

  Thea placed little confidence in her father’s abilities on the last point, but the rest of her aunt’s argument operated powerfully on her. She very much liked the idea of remaining for several months under her uncle’s roof, for she still had a lively dread of returning to her home with a cloud of scandal hanging over her head. If her aunt was right, much would either be forgotten or discounted when it was learned by her friends and acquaintances that she was being given a London season by her uncle and aunt. After all, someone in utter d
isgrace would not have received such an advantageous offer. Rather, it would have made more sense that a young lady of ruined reputation would have been exiled to the furthest reaches of the earth. She was persuaded that in her aunt’s astonishing invitation she beheld the salvaging of her ravaged reputation.

  “I am content to leave the matter in your capable hands. Aunt,” said Thea in humble gratitude.

  “Thank you, my dear. You have made me very happy. I had no daughters and I had such plans for the eventuality, which now I may trot forward to my full bent. How fortunate that we have kept up connections!” said Mrs. Owen.

  She smiled as she saw Lord Cardiff coming towards them. “Ah, here is Lord Cardiff returning to us. Or perhaps I should say, to you?” She laughed at Thea’s quick blush and rose, saying to Lord Cardiff, “I wish to relay something of import to Mr. Owen, so I know that you will hold me excused, my lord.”

  “Of course, Mrs. Owen,”

  Cardiff smiled civilly as Mrs. Owen walked away to join her husband before seating himself beside Miss Stafford on the settee. He regarded Miss Stafford’s lovely upturned countenance with appreciation. If he had seen Miss Stafford at some social function, he felt certain that he would have made it his business to become acquainted with her. She was possessed of both beauty and intelligence, and for him that was a potent combination. The image of another lady faded further away, to be replaced by Miss Stafford’s face and form.

  As for her wondrous ability at the pianoforte, the melodies she had wrought still filled his mind and induced a seductive languor in him as he looked down at her. He imagined himself taking her into his arms and waltzing with her around and around until they were dizzy.

  Cardiff shook himself loose of his entangling reflections, bringing himself back to the object of his seeking her out. “I wished to speak with you before retiring for the evening, Miss Stafford, and assure myself that all has turned out as you had hoped. Your uncle and aunt seem well disposed towards you.”

  “Yes, and quite more strongly than I ever dreamed possible,” said Thea, her glowing eyes expressing excitement. It never occurred to her that she was breaching etiquette when she confided in Lord Cardiff. He had been her mainstay for days during a time of complete upheaval in her life, and frankness with him seemed completely natural to her. “My aunt just told me that she and my uncle wish to give me a season in London this spring.”

  Cardiff was taken aback. “That is something indeed.” The Owens’ generosity towards their niece was surprising. He was pleased for Miss Stafford, however, and relieved that all had turned out happily for her. Of course, he was pleased on his own account, as well, since it had been the farthest thing from his mind to acquire a wife when he was sent home to England.

  A queer fleeting regret briefly touched his consciousness. He supposed it was because another small adventure had finally ended. It was obviously time to move on. His duty and his honor had both been satisfied by the outcome.

  Miss Stafford made some civil remark, and as Lord Cardiff looked down into her smiling face and responded, it occurred to him that it might be wise to remain one more day with the Owens. Though Miss Stafford seemed perfectly content, he thought he would feel easier if he set himself to observe for a little longer how the Owens dealt with her. Perhaps Miss Stafford had not quite understood her aunt’s invitation and had read too much into it. Though he had never considered Miss Stafford to be fanciful, her own anxiety could have led her into making a mistake by placing too much emphasis on a mere civility tossed out by Mrs. Owen. A London season did seem rather too much for the Owens to consider doing for a niece they had not seen in some years,

  As for himself, Cardiff began to think about his obligation in London, now to be delayed by several days. His absence had probably already been remarked. There was also his valet, Potter, still laid up at that accursed inn.

  Lord Cardiff frowned. It was unlike him to neglect any responsibility, and it disturbed him that he had done so, particularly in this instance. Potter had been with him for years and they had shared many experiences, some of them harrowing. He was ashamed that he had forgotten his injured manservant. No matter what else of moment had been occurring, he should never have lost sight of his valet’s situation.

  “My lord? What is it?”

  Cardiff was surprised by Miss Stafford’s sensitivity to his change of mood. The lady was obviously unusually observant. Either that or he had taken to allowing too much of his thoughts to show on his face. Hardly a desirable trait in either his work in the army or in playing at cards. His friends would drub him finely one night if he didn’t learn to do better, he thought ruefully.

  “My thoughts merely wandered for a moment, Miss Stafford. You have reason to accuse me of woolgathering, I fear.”

  “I would not be so rude as to do so, my lord,” said Thea, smiling up at his lordship’s handsome face. She realized how dear that same face was becoming to her and it was a disconcerting revelation.

  “Nevertheless, I apologize for being such poor company,” said Cardiff smoothly.

  He turned the conversation, and as the Owens approached them, tossed out a gambit to the elderly couple that took very well. In a few short moments, a card table was set up and the four sat down to play. Lord Cardiff partnered Miss Stafford, and he was delighted when he discovered that she had a certain card sense. The Owens themselves were formidable opponents and a pleasant hour or so was whiled away.

  Thea’s reflections marched along despite the demands of the card game. She was naturally disappointed that Lord Cardiff had not confided in her. However, she was at least wise enough to know that she really had no right to expect him to reveal his private thoughts to her. Just because she had discovered she possessed tender feelings towards him meant nothing at all. Lord Cardiff had come striding into her life, bold and confident and gallant, and would undoubtedly leave just as he had come and without a backward glance.

  Realizing the downward turn of her spirits, Thea mentally shook herself. It would not do to fall into a melancholy when everything else was turning out so wonderfully.

  Determined to show how happy she was with her new situation, Thea entered the conversation with increased vivacity. She succeeded so well that later, in an aside to his wife, Mr. Owen commented, “Thea is a lively girl. I enjoyed her company tonight.”

  “Quite,” agreed Mrs. Owen. However, she did not mention how she had observed a shadow in Thea’s eyes whenever her niece had glanced at Lord Cardiff. Mrs. Owen had formed the inevitable conclusion that Thea was covering a bruised heart. Truly, it was a pity that Thea had not accepted Lord Cardiff’s offer, she thought with renewed regret.

  Soon afterwards, Mrs. Owen hinted that the evening’s socializing had come to a close, and the company immediately began to break up for the night. Thea returned to her bedchamber and thankfully allowed the chambermaid to help ready her for bed. Mrs. Owen had provided a nightgown and cap for her niece, and it was not long before Thea was between the sheets. The chambermaid had expertly run a heating pan under the bedclothes so that the sheets were warmed, and Thea sighed with contentment.

  The morrow would undoubtedly bring with it new complications and problems, not the least of which was her newfound heartache, but for the moment all that mattered was the soft bed and warm sheets.

  During the night a harsh north wind arose. Angrily it rattled the shutters and howled around the manor, bringing with it the first real snow of the season. Without waking, Thea instinctively snuggled deeper into the covers. The dying fire glowed ruby red on the hearth.

  Sometime during the small hours, Thea became vaguely aware of a distant disturbance. The muted raised voices caused her to stir uneasily and turn on her feather pillow. Groggily she raised her head, her eyes still pressed shut. But when she heard nothing more, Thea dropped limply back onto the pillow. Her sleep was dreamless and deep, untroubled again until the morning when the chambermaid came in to the bedchamber to open the curtains.

  Chapter
Seventeen

  The morning light broke only feebly through the heavy snowstorm that was still raging. Upon looking out his frosted window and seeing the swirling curtain of snow, Cardiff realized that he would not be traveling that day and perhaps not for several days. His well-marked brows knit in a frown as he let fall the velvet drape. It was a nuisance, for he had hoped to say his adieus and make an early start. He decided to make his way downstairs to the breakfast room in hopes of finding his host.

  Mr. Owen’s valet had brushed and pressed Lord Cardiff’s coat and breeches and put a new shine on his lordship’s boots. With the addition of a clean shirt and freshly starched cravat, Cardiff felt that under the circumstances, he had made the best he could of his appearance. It was fortunate that he was not of the dandy set, he thought with amusement. He had never been one to set much store by creature comforts, but it would be nice to have his wardrobe and his own valet back. Briefly, he wondered how Potter was getting on, and his frown deepened.

  Owen’s valet expertly helped Lord Cardiff into his well-cut coat and smoothed the sleeves. Cardiff thanked the manservant for his help, and the valet bowed himself out of the bedchamber.

  Cardiff went downstairs to the breakfast room where, as he had hoped he would, he met his host over the breakfast table. The ladies had not yet put in an appearance, but Cardiff had expected that. He was an early riser by habit and the hour was still too soon in the day for most ladies to emerge from their bedchambers.

  Mr. Owen greeted Lord Cardiff with an expression of friendly sympathy. He set down his fork on his plate, from which he was partaking of a hearty breakfast. “My lord! I suspect you had it in mind to take your leave of us today, but I do not think it will be possible.”

  “I am afraid not, indeed,” said Cardiff with a laugh and a careless shrug. He was glad to note that most of the soreness was gone from his shoulder after the night’s rest he had enjoyed. “I fear that I must beg your hospitality for yet a while, sir.”