The Runaway Heiress

by Anne O'Brien

  Without hesitation, Frances opened her arms to him. This was the first time that any man had shown her such tangible kindness. He had by some chance unlocked a door and she had no desire to slam it in his face.

  His hands were gentle, set to soothe and calm, in an urgent need to reassure and wipe away the ugly memories that must haunt her. Cool and immeasurably tender, his lips touched her hair, her eyes, the line of her cheekbones, and down to her throat where the pulse still raced. His hands skimmed her shoulders with featherlight movement before lingering on her back where he knew the cruel scars would always glimmer in the candlelight. She did not resist, but clung to him as he once again pushed away the ribbons and torn lace at her neck.

  Her skin glowed pale as ivory and soft as gossamer to his fingertips as it warmed and relaxed under his touch.

  He left her for a moment to remove his own clothing, but quickly, fearing a return of the fear that could turn her to ice in his hands. He searched her face, struck again by the brilliance of those sapphire eyes, now quite calm and full of trust. He realised what a heavy burden that could be, but he had made her a promise. Her dependence on him at that moment aroused him with a desire to possess her, but he kept a tight rein and set himself to pleasure her. He turned his attention to her breasts, so small and well formed as they fit perfectly into the palm of his hand. He caressed her nipples, and when he lowered his head to take one into his mouth she did not withdraw. Instead she surprised him by tightening her arms around him, pulling him close to her. She trembled when he allowed his hands to stroke down the length of her body, to part her thighs and touch the delicate skin, but she did not pull away, nor did she stiffen in rigid acceptance.

  When he entered her with a single thrust, then held himself still to give her time to accept the intimate intrusion, she sighed and delighted him when she instinctively arched her body to meet his and allowed him to thrust more deeply. She was so soft. So tight. And this time she was ready for him. He was swept by a nameless emotion at his ability to make her respond. He whispered words of encouragement to her, foolish nothings, and she responded with little cries and whimpers. But not out of pain or fear. Her whole body was swamped with overpowering sensation. There was no room here for shyness or embarrassment. All she wanted was to feel the strength and power of his body against hers, the brush of his hands, the glory of him deep inside her. When he began to move, the thrusts more forceful, she moved to meet him, to answer the demands of his body and hers. Heat spread its fingers through her, to her very fingertips, which seemed to throb with the pressure of her beating heart, but it centred with fiery talons in her belly and thighs. It was unbearably intense, as close to pain as it was to pleasure, but yet it seemed to beckon her on with the promise of untold delight, although towards what she was still unsure.

  He came to his climax, a final powerful thrust of his hips, a tensing of the muscles in back and thigh, lured on by the delicious warmth and softness of her body beneath him. He supported himself on his elbows to study her face in the light from the single remaining candle, his midnight-dark hair tousled, sweat still gleaming at his temples. Her mouth curved into a smile. The expression in his fierce eyes was incredibly tender. He smoothed her tangled hair from her face and pressed his lips to her forehead.

  ‘Frances?’

  ‘Yes, my lord?’

  ‘Hugh!’

  ‘Yes, Hugh.’ She obeyed on a sigh of repletion. He would make do with that for the present.

  ‘Did I hurt you?’ It was suddenly important that he know.

  ‘No. There was no hurt. I did not realise how … how …’ He could see the flush on her pale skin even in the dim light.

  ‘How enjoyable it could be?’ There was a distinct smile in his voice.

  ‘Yes, Hugh. That is what I meant to say.’

  ‘You will find it even more enjoyable—when you are less tense and allow yourself to relax a little more.’ He touched his lips to her temple, her eyes, her soft mouth in the lightest of kisses. ‘I promise you.’ He was acutely aware of her lack of true fulfilment—and contemplated rekindling the flames within her once more—but judged her too exhausted by the traumas of the night to pursue that end.

  ‘I know,’ she murmured against his chest. She felt warm and safe from the shadows of the past in his arms and at that moment could ask for nothing more. And yet there remained in her the memory of that elusive sensation of heat and excitement that had not quite overtaken her, an uncontrollable fire, ignited by his lips and his hands, which threatened to ripple through her and consume her very being. She shivered a little at the intimate prospect and then smiled and stretched against him in pure contentment. One day she knew she would find it with him.

  That contentment shone in her eyes as she stretched up to press her lips to his with incredible sweetness. There was an arrested expression on his face, his heart beating forcefully in his chest, at her obvious trust as she lay in his arms and her unsolicited caress, but before he could think of anything to say, her eyes had fluttered closed and her breathing deepened into sleep. He smiled again, folding her more securely into his arms so that her head was pillowed on his shoulder, and allowed himself to sink into oblivion beside her.

  Next morning Juliet persuaded Frances to accompany her to inspect, with the anticipation of buying, of course, the charming gowns produced by Madame Celeste, a new French modiste who had opened a shop in Bond Street and was fast becoming the height of fashion. Frances took little persuasion and the two ladies were about to leave on this pleasurable outing when Aldeborough waylaid them in the entrance hall.

  He was dressed in a cut-away coat of dark blue superfine, of Weston’s making, without doubt, which displayed his broad shoulders and narrow hips to excellent advantage. His pale pantaloons clung to his muscular thighs like a second skin, and his tasselled Hessians gleamed with a high polish. His cream satin waistcoat and tasteful fob watch completed his air of elegance and sophistication.

  ‘Shopping again, I see. Don’t let Juliet drag you round every dress shop in London, my dear. She will wear you out. Excess stamina in the pursuit of pleasure is a family failing.’

  He looked directly at Frances, his eyes compelling her to meet his. She could not resist, wishing that the faint colour tinting her pale skin did not advertise so blatantly her beating heart and rapid pulse. She remembered all too clearly … Her blush deepened and she dropped her gaze so that she was unaware of his smile of satisfaction.

  ‘And you would know all about that, dear Hugh.’ Juliet rose to the occasion. ‘How many miles was it that you were prepared to travel last week to watch a disgusting prize fight?’

  ‘Ah! How indelicate of you, little sister! You should know nothing about such things. I suppose Matthew told you.’

  ‘I shall not divulge my sources!’

  ‘I see you are dressed to go out, my lord,’ Frances interrupted the family repartee to which she was now becoming immune. ‘Would you care to accompany us?’

  ‘Never.’ Aldeborough smiled. ‘Have you tried Matthew? Well, of course you have. I knew I must be second choice.’

  ‘Matthew had a pressing engagement.’

  ‘Matthew always has pressing engagements. And on this occasion, fortunately, so do I. But before you go—it is my intention to go to the Priory at the end of the week. Some business needs to be completed before the month is out and it is easier if I am present. Ambrose is going to visit his uncle and Matthew will probably come with me—there may some rough shooting to tempt him. I wondered if I might persuade you to accompany us?’

  His invitation was directed to both of them, but his eyes were fixed speculatively on Frances.

  ‘I will understand if the pleasures and allure of town outweigh a few days in the country.’

  Unexpectedly, he found that this was not true. He wanted Frances to accompany him. He felt a disconcerting need to spend some time with her, away from the formality of London, to get to know his elusive wife better. His wife! It still surp
rised him. And he was discovering depths in her that he could not have guessed at and which he found he wished to explore. When he looked at her delicately flushed face with its expressive eyes, determined chin and vulnerable mouth he could not erase the revelations of the previous night from his mind, nor the sight of those disfiguring scars on her fair skin. Anger and revulsion still simmered within him that she should have been handled with such deliberate cruelty. His powerful hands clenched into fists at the memory and a desire to seek revenge on her behalf tormented him.

  And her response to his lovemaking had overwhelmed him. She was not shy at all. Nor was she cold to his advances as he had feared. However painful last night, it had breached the solid wall that had existed between them, created by her fear and his indifference. She had felt able to respond to his caresses and he had wanted to give her pleasure to erase the memories of fear and ill treatment. He had certainly given her pleasure. He felt a tightening in his loins at the memory of her body arching against his and the touch of her hands smoothing the skin down his back. And she had cried out and sighed his name as he had possessed her. He wanted her to come to the Priory.

  Juliet responded as he knew she would.

  ‘The Priory? Now that the Season is just under way? I could not possibly—just think of all the dances and parties I should miss. I could not think of going into rural seclusion.’

  ‘Well, Mistress Molly? Do you wish to spend some time with me in rural seclusion?’

  She hesitated for a second only, a small smile curving her lips deliciously and illuminating her eyes. ‘Yes. I think I would. I would like it above all things.’

  ‘Frances! How can you?’ Juliet looked at her and her brother with utmost astonishment and no little degree of speculation in her lively expression. ‘Do you want to be buried in the country when everyone who is anyone will be here in London?’

  Frances laughed, suddenly feeling so much older than her new sister. ‘But I enjoy life in the country. And I would like to go back to the Priory again.’ It is my home, she thought. Far more so than Cavendish Square, however splendid, with its formal servants and rigid rules laid down by the Dowager. I want to go home. But she did not voice her preference, fearing to hurt Juliet’s feelings. She need not have been concerned.

  ‘I understand,’ Juliet observed with more perception than her years would suggest, not at all insulted. ‘I expect you will enjoy escaping from Mama’s company.’

  ‘It is a consideration,’ Frances admitted with a little laugh.

  ‘Then it will be my pleasure to take you to the Priory.’ The Marquis took her hand: the surge of satisfaction within him was instantaneous.

  Frances was delighted that he should invite her, that he should actively seek her company. And, as a voice whispered slyly in her heart, since the Priory was such a considerable distance from London, he would be well out of the orbit of Letitia Winters!

  ‘Except that’ —she raised her eyes to his again on a sudden thought— ‘I will not visit Torrington Hall.’

  ‘Of course not. I would never ask that of you.’ His expression darkened, but his voice was full of understanding.

  ‘I knew you would understand.’

  ‘Not visit your aunt and uncle?’ queried Juliet. ‘Surely a morning call would be in order. Do you not wish to visit your previous home again?’

  ‘There are reasons why Frances should not visit them,’ explained Aldeborough simply, rescuing Frances from the need for explanation.

  ‘Very well. If you are going to keep secrets from me!’

  ‘If we told you, it wouldn’t be a secret for five minutes. I will leave you to your shopping. We will set off on Friday morning.’

  The shopping expedition was pronounced a great success by both ladies. With the prospect of time in the country to indulge her passion for riding, Frances was easily beguiled into the purchase of a delightful and extravagant riding habit in dark green velvet. The skirt with its heavy folds fitted her to perfection and the narrow jacket with a high neckline and frog fastenings in black silk braid carried the hint of the military. She knew that the rich colour set her dark hair and pale skin off to their best advantage. She was excited at the prospect of wearing it to investigate the estate and the surrounding countryside that was now her home. And in Aldeborough’s company.

  As they browsed their way homeward along Bond Street, they were hailed by a number of acquaintances, eager to further their contact with the new Marchioness of Aldeborough and to discuss the excellence of the Taverners’ ball. One such was Miss Penelope Vowchurch, who had left her mother to exchange dull pleasantries with friends and was taking the air with a maid properly and discreetly in attendance. Her smile was cool and her demeanour a few degrees lower, but their proximity as she turned into Bond Street gave her no choice but to stop and converse with the Aldeborough ladies. Her smile was welcoming, as Frances had come to expect. Her eyes were not.

  ‘Hello, Penelope.’ Juliet smiled with gentle malice. ‘How are you after such late hours?’

  ‘We did not stay late,’ Penelope explained calmly. ‘My mama does not approve of excessive dancing or staying up beyond midnight. Did you enjoy the ball, Frances? I expect it must be one of the first you have attended, so unfamiliarity will give it a certain attraction. We, I’m afraid, find them sadly crowded and a little tedious.’

  ‘I don’t. I enjoyed it immeasurably.’ Juliet was quick to pick up the nuances and took up the challenge with enthusiasm, to Frances’s amusement. ‘And I’m sure Frances did also.’

  ‘Yes,’ she agreed, ‘it was most entertaining. So many people were very kind and welcoming.’

  ‘Of course. They would be vastly interested in meeting you. After the news of your precipitate and unexpected marriage. I can understand their … curiosity. May I say what a charming dress you wore last night, dear Frances. Of course, that particular shade of yellow and gold are difficult colours to wear and can be most insipid. They do not suit everyone. I could not wear them.’

  ‘Very true, but as a married lady, Frances is blessed with the freedom to choose her colours. I wish I could wear something other than white, but Mama insists. It is not always flattering, as I am sure you agree, Penelope?’ Juliet knew that white flattered her very well but was not prepared to give quarter.

  ‘Of course. I noticed that you achieved a partner for every dance. I don’t suppose you had much opportunity to dance in Yorkshire.’

  ‘I had none,’ Frances agreed, refusing to be drawn into making excuses. ‘I fear my dancing will never be as elegant as I would wish.’

  ‘I had the benefit of a dancing master, of course,’ Penelope explained smoothly. ‘A superior education is of greatest importance for those in the highest ranks of the ton. Mama thought that it was essential for me to be able to play my role in society. Aldeborough, of course, is an excellent dancer. All Wellington’s officers are, I understand. Hugh and I have often waltzed together, at private parties, you understand. Mama does not approve of such informality in public. Such intimacy is most improper.’

  ‘Surely you would have wished to waltz last night, Penelope. Everyone does so. You can hardly call it improper these days. Even Wellington approves of it, after all.’

  ‘I expect you are right. But it does give pause for thought when you see such as Mrs Winters invited to the Taverners’ ball. I thought they would have had more discrimination, but perhaps they merely wished to fill their rooms and be recognised as the squeeze of the Season. She was waltzing, I believe. And with Aldeborough on at least one occasion.’

  ‘Aldeborough danced with any number of people. As did I.’

  Miss Vowchurch deftly changed the direction of the conversation. ‘I noticed that your cousin is in town. He was introduced to me at the ball. I found him to be most charming.’

  ‘He can be very amenable,’ Frances agreed, finding it difficult to believe that her cousin and Miss Vowchurch had anything in common or found anything to say beyond the most commonplace. ‘I
understand he will be here for a few days, but he usually spends his time at Torrington Hall.’

  ‘He told me something of your background in Yorkshire. He was very informative.’

  ‘Listening to gossip, Penelope?’ Juliet chuckled. ‘That does not sound like you. What would your mama say?’

  ‘It was not gossip, I do assure you. It was simply family reminiscences. He told me that there had once been an understanding between himself and you, Frances, that you would marry.’

  ‘There was such a proposal.’ Frances was determined not to be drawn into such a discussion. ‘But no formal plans were made.’

  ‘He was most disturbed by the present situation. As I am. My marriage to Aldeborough was desired by both families, of course. It was no secret.’

  ‘Sometimes, Penelope, we have to suffer disappointment in life.’ The sparkle in Juliet’s eyes showed no sympathy.

  ‘Indeed. You would seem to have been well suited to your cousin, my lady. Perhaps you also enjoy life in the country, whereas it does not suit me at all. I am definitely a town mouse, as my mother always says.’

  ‘Frances does like country life.’ Juliet decided to cross swords on behalf of her sister. ‘She intends to accompany Aldeborough to the Priory at the end of the week.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘It is an opportunity for her to see more of her new home,’ Juliet added by way of unnecessary explanation.

  ‘Have you ever been to the Priory?’ Frances asked with an air of innocence.

  ‘I have never had that pleasure.’ The smile on Penelope’s well-bred face became even more forced.

  ‘I must persuade Aldeborough to hold a house party in the winter season, after I have had the opportunity to refurbish the public rooms. Perhaps you will accept an invitation to visit us.’ The nice tone of condescension that she was able to achieve pleased Frances when she acknowledged Penelope’s set expression and the glint of temper in her fine eyes.

  ‘That will be delightful. When do you go?’

  ‘Aldeborough said on Friday.’