The Fleeing Heiress: A funny flight into love.
Page 18
Mr. Owen was still chuckling as he ushered his wife and niece into the parlor. His cheerful expression underwent instant transformation upon discovering certain occupants of the room. His brown eyes chilled as his gaze fell on his late sister’s spouse. “Stafford.”
Mr. Stafford bowed a stiff acknowledgement of his brother-in-law’s cold greeting. His voice was equally frosty. “Good day, Owen.”
Cardiff had risen to his feet upon the ladies’ entrance and he civilly greeted his hostess first, before turning to address Miss Stafford. However, she did not immediately take notice of him.
“Papa! And Thomas and Philip!” No matter what her thoughts had been a few minutes past, Thea discovered that she was genuinely pleased to see her father and brothers. Despite all that had happened, she felt a rush of affection for them all. Thea went forward to greet the members of her family. Her brothers were obviously glad to see her and each gave her a hug,
Mr. Stafford contented himself with patting his daughter on the shoulder. “There, lass. How are you?” he said fondly.
“I am very well, Papa,” said Thea, smiling with misted eyes at her father.
“I was not aware that I had formed a winter house party,” announced Mr. Owen irascibly to no one in particular.
Mr. Stafford was seen to stiffen again, and he turned his head towards his brother-in-law. His bushy brows were so drawn that it appeared as though he had a solid line above his wrathful eyes.
“Hush, Thatcher! We must be civil with our guests,” said Mrs. Owen hastily, trying to avert the inevitable disagreeableness.
However, the pungent bait had already been cast and caught. “If it were not for the snowstorm, I would not have remained more than a moment more than I had to under your roof,” said Mr. Stafford at once, utterly ignoring his sister-in-law’s attempt to smooth things over.
“It is a pity that you did not respect my roof enough to stay outside and freeze to death last night,” snapped Mr. Owen.
“Now, my dear, that is not at all true. You could not have turned anyone away in such weather and, indeed, you did not! So let us have no more of that sort of nonsense,” said Mrs. Owen, sternly addressing her spouse. She turned her surprisingly steely gaze on her brother-in-law, “As for you, Carter Stafford, I shall not have my hospitality abused, so you will keep a civil tongue in your head, if you please!”
In the face of Mrs. Owen’s unexpected severity, Mr. Stafford stood abashed. He muttered something under his breath which sounded much like a reluctant apology. Rousing himself, he added, “I only wished to assure myself that Thea—”
Mrs. Owen threw up her hand. “That will be enough, Carter. I will not allow discussion about Thea’s misadventures over luncheon. Thatcher, pray lead us in.”
Philip and Thomas Stafford watched with boggling eyes as their sire once more fell into near silence, only mutterings from under his breath coming to their wondering ears. They exchanged glances and both regarded their aunt with awed respect.
As for Thea, she let out her breath slowly. She did not understand, any more than her brothers, what power their aunt held over their father, but it was a relief that there was not going to be a loud scene enacted.
Cardiff regarded the company as though he were watching a play. It amused him to see how Mrs. Owen ruled her house, no matter what the circumstance. Obviously the lady possessed an unexpected rod of steel as a backbone, and her husband and brother-in-law were aware of its existence from past experience, for Mr. Owen did not glance at his unwelcome guest again but instead calmly escorted his wife out of the parlor.
Following the Owens’ lead, Lord Cardiff at once offered his arm to Miss Stafford. She accepted his escort gratefully, willing to leave the storm clouds in her father’s face behind her. Mr. Stafford and his sons had little choice but to trail behind the two couples into luncheon.
Mrs. Owen gently but with ruthless intent steered the conversation away from dangerous waters whenever she felt it to be necessary. In this she was ably assisted by Lord Cardiff, who threw out a few gambits about the war and the army which were guaranteed to capture the interest of Mr. Owen and Philip and Thomas Stafford. Mr. Stafford was not immune to the ensuing lively discussion and entered his own strong opinions concerning the conduct of the war. Luncheon was therefore a very polite, though unexpectedly animated, function, at the end of which Mrs. Owen suggested that the company repair back to the parlor for a much-needed talk.
“I don’t see why you or my esteemed brother-in-law should be present,” said Mr. Stafford belligerently. “I am quite capable of having speech with my daughter.”
“I have a vested interest in keeping the peace,” said Mrs. Owen with a pleasant smile. “And since it is our house, I may preside over any meeting in it that I wish.”
Mr. Owen gave a bark of laughter. “You may as well give way, Stafford. Mrs. Owen orders all just as she likes in the house.”
Mr. Stafford muttered some more, but he offered no further objection.
Mrs. Owen smiled across the table at her nephews as she rose from her chair. “I am fairly certain that this matter concerns you to only a very small degree since you are not principals. Perhaps you would care to be shown to the billiards room instead?”
Thomas and Philip agreed that their aunt’s suggestion suited them very well and went off in the attentive footman’s wake.
Mrs. Owen led the rest of the party into the parlor and requested that everyone be comfortably seated near the fire to take advantage of its heat. “I suspect that we shall all deal better together if we are comfortable,” she said with another serene smile. She sat down gracefully in a wing chair and gestured everyone to follow her example.
Thea obediently took a chair near her aunt, instinctively seeking the protection of the lady’s authority. Cardiff seated himself at an angle where he could observe all of the gathered company. Mr. Stafford chose a wing chair as far away as possible from his in-laws, which naturally set him apart from his daughter. This was unsatisfactory to him, and he pulled the chair closer.
Mrs. Owen looked around, satisfied, and smiled up at her spouse. “Now we shall hold a very civil discussion about Thea. My dear Thatcher, I give up the floor.”
“Thank you, my dear,” said Mr. Owen, bowing to his wife. He had elected to stand at the polished mantel rather than sit down. He turned to stare under bushy lowered brows at his brother-in-law. “Naturally you must have your say, Stafford, since Thea is your daughter.”
“There is nothing to discuss! Thea is going to wed Lord Cardiff,” said Mr. Stafford trenchantly. He glared around the circle of faces, daring anyone to contradict him.
Thea sighed. She shook her head, regretting the necessity of denying her father in company but feeling that she had been given no other alternative. “Papa, I dearly love you, but you are an idiot. I am not going to be married to Lord Cardiff. You have mistreated his lordship shamefully and—-”
“The shame is yours, daughter!” thundered Mr. Stafford, becoming red in the face. It embarrassed him that his daughter could speak so disrespectfully and plainly in the present company. He was particularly aware of his brother-in-law’s smothered guffaw, which incensed him to no small degree. He glared up at Mr. Owen.
“Her shame, as you call it, is not at my hands, Mr. Stafford!” exclaimed Cardiff in a loud, hard voice. Mr. Stafford started and swung his surprised gaze to his lordship. Cardiff held Stafford’s eyes with his own demanding gaze. “Have I ever behaved dishonorably towards your daughter, sir? Have I?”
Mr. Stafford started to bluster. “I am calling you to account, my lord! I demand that you do right by my daughter!”
Cardiff cut the gentleman short by flinging up his hand. His eyes narrowed, he warned, “Be careful what you say, sir! There were witnesses at the inn to what happened. And you have witnesses here to your dealings with me! If you persist in this nonsense, you lay yourself open to a suit of willful malice.”
Mr. Stafford looked startled. His eyes wavered under Lord Cardiff’
s blazing gaze and slid away. He mumbled, “No, my lord. It was not you who dishonored my daughter.”
“Thank you, sir,” said Cardiff in an uncompromising voice. “I am glad that we have that straight. Now perhaps we may move on.”
“Papa, you know very well that Lord Cardiff is not responsible for anything which has happened,” said Thea gently, feeling sorry for her father because he looked so deflated.
Mr. Stafford gave a reluctant nod. “It is true. I own it.”
A collective sigh went around the room as some of the tension was released. A flicker of a smile touched Cardiff’s face. Whenever the opposing force began to give way, he thought, victory could not be long in coming.
“I have offered to have Thea for a long visit and to bring her out this season,” began Mrs. Owen.
“Out of the question! Thea has no claim on you or her uncle,” said Mr. Stafford quickly, instantly firing up again. “She will come home with me.”
“You forget, Stafford! Your daughter’s reputation is compromised,” said Mr. Owen irascibly. “Everyone will whisper about her. There will be no end to it. She will live the remainder of her days in disgrace.”
“Thea’s place is at home,” said Mr. Stafford stubbornly.
“No, Papa.” Thea drew in her breath. She folded her hands tightly in her lap. “I am sorry that I must disobey you, Papa. I am staying with my uncle and aunt. I cannot go back with you. You firmly compromised my reputation when you would not take me home at once when I begged you. Now I am offered a way to retrieve my good name and I am accepting it.”
“I am your father, my girl! You will do as I say!” shouted Mr. Stafford.
Cardiff leaped to his feet, his fists clenched. His eyes were blazing. “Mr. Stafford, not many days since I saved your daughter from an unprincipled bully. I will not now stand by while you browbeat Miss Stafford,” he said harshly.
“And I shall not allow it to take place under my roof,” said Mr. Owen, shifting his weight so that he was squared up to his brother-in-law.
Mr. Stafford glanced from Lord Cardiff’s tense attitude to Mr. Owen. He stood up and faced his brother-in-law. He was breathing heavily through his nose. “Then I shall take leave of your roof, and gladly,” he declared.
“Er—Papa, we are snowed in,” Thea quietly reminded him.
Mr. Stafford, who had turned on his heel and started for the parlor door, stopped. He swung around and glared impotently at the assembled group. He was cheated of a grand exit and he knew it, but he did not know what to do next.
Once more it was Mrs. Owen who poured the soothing oil on the roiling waters. Gently, she said, “Carter, you are our guest. Pray accept our hospitality for as long as you wish.”
Mr. Stafford growled something indistinguishable, which might have been reluctant agreement.
Mr. Owen expelled an angry snort but he held his tongue. He turned his back and stared into the leaping flames as though he were washing his hands of the business.
Seeing that her father was struggling to maintain a civil front, Thea said hastily, “My father thanks you, Aunt.”
Mr. Stafford gave an abrupt nod. “Aye. That is what I meant!”
“Nicely said,” said Mrs. Owen, looking at her brother-in-law with approval as though he had uttered the gracious words himself.
Mr. Stafford visibly relaxed under Mrs. Owen’s kindly gaze. He unexpectedly executed a bow to her. “You are kindness itself, ma’am,” he said gruffly.
Mrs. Owen inclined her head in acknowledgment before rising gracefully to her feet. She said placidly, “I think perhaps it would be best if Thea is allowed to talk to her father alone for a few minutes. What do you think, Thea?”
Thea nodded, grateful for her aunt’s exquisite tact. Already too much had been aired that should never have been said in company. In particular she regretted calling her parent an idiot. She had known instantly that she had wounded his pride and that had been an added goad to his uneven temper. “Yes, ma’am. I would indeed like to speak to my father.”
“But my dear—!” exclaimed Mr. Owen, throwing a meaningful glance in his brother-in-law’s direction.
Mrs. Owen took her husband’s arm firmly between her hands. “It will be quite all right, I am persuaded. Lord Cardiff? Will you accompany us to the front parlor?”
“As you wish, Mrs. Owen,” said Cardiff politely. However, before he moved, he looked across at Miss Stafford. “Are you certain, Miss Stafford?”
Thea smiled at his lordship. “I am certain, my lord.”
“Very well.” Cardiff bowed to her, including Mr.Stafford in his civil gesture by nodding to the gentleman.
He departed with the Owens.
Chapter Twenty
Despite her assurances to the contrary, Thea wasn’t at all certain about the prospect of a private interview with her parent. She could discern from her father’s hard jawline and the lowering of his brows that he was still out of temper. She disliked the prospect of the parental storm that would most likely break over her head in a very few minutes. However, her father’s displeasure had to be faced sometime, and at least now she had others to call on if she needed bolstering in making her wishes known. It was simply unfortunate that it was always difficult to persuade her father to a different viewpoint once he had taken a notion into his head.
The glimmer of an idea came to her. Perhaps there was a way to appeal to her father without causing a widening of the rift between them, which would only give them both pain.
Mr. Stafford had followed the rest of the company to the door in order to be certain he and his daughter would be left in privacy. When he closed the door and turned to stare frowningly at Thea, she at once hurried into speech in an effort to forestall his scold. “Papa, did you not meet Mama at an assembly?”
Mr. Stafford was thrown off guard by her unexpected question. A confused look entered his hard eyes. “Aye, that is indeed how we came to meet. What of it, daughter?”
“Mama confided to me once that you were the most handsome gentleman she had ever seen,” said Thea, smiling slightly.
Mr. Stafford’s expression softened perceptibly. He came back towards the hearth and settled into a wing chair close to the flickering fire. “Your mother was partial, Thea. I was not the handsomest, but she was certainly the prettiest.”
“And you courted her for the whole summer before she consented to wed you,” prompted Thea.
Mr. Stafford chuckled at his resurrected memories. “It was a pleasant but anxious summer, as I recall. Your mother took her time to decide to accept my offer for her hand. I was always driving over to pay my respects to your grandparents, hoping each time to learn the outcome of my suit. But at last I was rewarded for my patience. Your mother consented and we were wed a few months later during the Christmas holiday season. It was an unusual time of year for a wedding, but your mother insisted that she was enchanted with the notion of a winter wedding.”
“I should like a courtship like that, Papa,” said Thea quietly.
There was a long silence, broken only by a log splintering in the fire with a shower of sparks, as Mr. Stafford and Thea solemnly regarded one another. It was a moment that she would long remember for being one when she and her father shared a rare meeting of minds.
At last Mr. Stafford sighed. He slowly nodded his head. “I understand you, Thea. I am sorry I did not see it before. If your dear mother had been alive, I know she would have pointed out my error long since. I shall not press you any more about Lord Cardiff, I give you my word.”
“Thank you, Papa,” said Thea gratefully. She was relieved. Finally, her father had come to realize something of her position, and his understanding had come about without a dreadful scene preceding it. “And—and do you also understand why I cannot return home with you just now?”
Mr. Stafford scowled, though without his former anger.
“Perhaps I do. Of course I do. But that does not mean that I approve of you remaining under your uncle’s roof!”
Mollified by his daughter’s humbly put question, Mr. Stafford puffed out his cheeks in a considering way. “I haven’t given it much thought, Thea.”
“Aunt Theresa would not have me, you know,” said Thea, reminding her father of the defection of their one other respectable relation.
Mr. Stafford flushed angrily. “I shall not easily forgive your great-aunt’s slight! Turn you away, indeed! I was never more incensed when your brothers told me that old harridan had actually admitted to it.”
“It is just as well she did, Papa,” said Thea hastily. It was not her desire to inflame her parent against the aged lady, however shabbily she had also felt that her great-aunt had treated her. “I should probably have grown to be as eccentric as Aunt Theresa. You would not like me to gain the reputation of being odd.”
Her father looked to be much struck by her observation. “That certainly would not do, Thea, not at all. No. The more I think about it, the more convinced I become that your place is with your aunt Owen. Aye, she will take good care of you, and even though your uncle is a great deal too set up in his own self-worth, I am certain I can trust him to look after your welfare properly.”
“This is praise indeed,” said Thea with a quizzical look.
Mr. Stafford acknowledged his daughter’s teasing with a reluctant chuckle. “Cozening me, are you? Well, I do not mind it. I prefer it to Tabitha’s sighs and tearful pleadings, believe me. I was not at all unhappy to leave her behind in the care of our good housekeeper. I only pray the woman has the strength of mind to exert some influence upon your sister in my absence!”
“Why, what is wrong with Tabitha?” asked Thea, instantly concerned. She was half afraid that her sister was angered over her misadventure with Mr. Quarles. It would be like Tabitha to blame her for all of it, she thought in resignation. It was what she had thought would happen from the very beginning, when she originally discussed her situation with Lord Cardiff.