The Runaway Heiress

by Brenda Hiatt

  "And he doesn't," Violet assured her. "Have any terrible vices, that is. I'm sure I'd know, if he did."

  Thor sent his sister an exasperated glance, but Miss Moore smiled. "That is all the surety I need. I believe that my future would be safer in your hands than in my brother's, Mr. Turpin. I therefore await your decision."

  "Oh, do agree, Grant," Violet urged. "Mother keeps saying you must marry, and I know you've no prospects. Think how happy this would make her."

  Yes, his mother would no doubt be ecstatic —and would cease flinging debutantes and neighbors' daughters at his head. He had to admit that was an attractive prospect. Miss Moore's lineage was impeccable and she apparently had a sizeable dowry, as well. He could do worse.

  Then there was the matter of Miss Moore's startling promise not to interfere in his life— something most men of his acquaintance would envy. He could leave her in the country and go hunting, or to Town, as he pleased. His life would scarcely change at all by marrying her. And she was a pretty little thing . . .

  He glanced across the table at her again, appraisingly. Little. Definitely little. That detail, as much as any other, made Thor balk.

  He'd never cared for petite, delicate women. Had, in fact, been almost afraid of them. They seemed too . . . breakable, given his own size and strength. For that reason, he'd avoided the usual bits of muslin when it came to mistresses, preferring instead to dally with the occasional strong, strapping country lass. Bedding Miss Moore would be rather like mating a bull mastiff to a foxhound like Bluebell —both cruel and implausible.

  Not that she would have any desire for the physical aspects of marriage, of course. And he was sure he could keep his own passions in check. But there was the matter of the succession . . .

  No, it was out of the question.

  "Violet, I'd like to speak privately with Miss Moore." Refusing her request would be easier for him —and less embarrassing for Miss Moore— without his sister in the room.

  "Oh! Certainly. I'll, ah, go upstairs and pack up my things. Then I'll be ready should you wish to head home right after the wedding." Flashing them both a grin over her shoulder, she left the room.

  "That girl has no sense of shame," he murmured, shaking his head. "She likes you, however, Miss Moore, which is a point in your favor."

  "Then your sister normally exhibits better judgement than she did in the matter of her elopement?"

  He nodded. "She has always had a tendency to romanticism, but in all else, she has a remarkably level head for her age."

  That was good to know, as Dina was relying on Violet's commendation of her brother as much as Mr. Turpin was apparently relying on her good opinion of Dina herself. Still, she was more than half inclined to withdraw her suggestion that they marry.

  Though Mr. Plunkett had also been a stranger to her, she had been able to take his measure and use it to her advantage. As a man who put greed above reason, she'd been reasonably sure that she could arrange their marriage to her liking: a percentage of her fortune in exchange for a guarantee of her independence.

  Mr. Turpin, she knew instinctively, would not be so easily manipulated —and that thought frightened her more than she cared to admit.

  Even so, she forced herself to meet his gaze squarely and say, with a confidence she couldn't feel, "Then we're agreed?"

  But to her surprise, he shook his head. "I'm sorry, Miss Moore, but a marriage between us really won't do. Surely, there is another way to solve your problem?"

  She let out the breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding, feeling an unexpected surge of relief. Yes, perhaps he could help her in another, less frightening way. "I can't blame you for refusing, Mr. Turpin. You can have no more desire to bind yourself to a stranger than I have."

  He blinked, clearly startled by her calm response.

  "I, however, am driven by necessity," she continued before he could speak. "I must marry, or resign myself to poverty. There are no doubt worse fates, but it is still one I prefer to avoid. Unfortunately, your arrival here ruined my last chance of doing so, which is why I made such a bold suggestion."

  "My arrival?" he asked in obvious confusion. "But—"

  "Mr. Plunkett," she clarified. "I had just prevailed upon him to marry me, instead of your sister, when you burst into the room and knocked him down, causing him to flee."

  "Then I'm doubly glad I did so," he declared, the same fierce frown he'd worn on his initial entrance again descending upon his brow. "Damned, fickle blackguard."

  She hid a shudder at her narrow escape from marrying this big, overbearing brute. "Mr. Plunkett can't have gone far yet," she said. "If you can find him, explain the mistake, and bring him back here, I'm quite willing to marry him instead of yourself. That will solve both my problem and yours, wouldn't you say?"

  Dina sat back in her chair with a smile, but to her surprise, Mr. Turpin didn't seem nearly as pleased with her solution as she had expected.

  "Solve your problem? By marrying a man you know is a fortune hunter and a wastrel? He's a gamester, as well— like your brother."

  "How can you know that?" she asked uneasily.

  "A friend of mine knew Plunkett during the War. I doubt he's changed, given his recent behavior."

  That seemed likely, but she still saw Mr. Plunkett as the lesser evil. There was something so . . . forceful about Mr. Turpin. It was more than just his unusual size, which was intimidating enough. He dominated the room by his very presence.

  "Men do change." Surely, that was true? "In any event, my options are limited. If you will fetch Mr. Plunkett back for me, I will consider your debt to me discharged."

  "I'll do no such thing." His brow reminded her of a thundercloud. "Apart from— How do you suppose Violet would feel to know Mr. Plunkett would so easily jilt her?"

  "But Violet had already decided against marrying Mr. Plunkett before he agreed to marry me," she explained. "I'm sure he wouldn't have considered my offer otherwise." In fact, she suspected he would have, but she had no more desire for Violet to discover that than Mr. Turpin did.

  "And such constancy recommends itself to you, does it?" he said sarcastically.

  She flinched at his words, but tried to conceal it. "As I said, I had —and have— little choice, particularly as you refuse to offer yourself in his stead."

  For a long moment he glowered at her—so long a moment that it was all she could do not to fidget. Suddenly he let out a gusty sigh. "Oh, very well."

  "You'll go after him, then?" Marriage to Mr. Plunkett would not be so bad. He had been willing to put their financial agreement in writing, after all. Perhaps—

  "No. I'll marry you myself."

  Dina's mouth fell open but she did not notice for several seconds. She closed it, then opened it again to say weakly, "You? But I thought—"

  "I know what you thought —what I said. But I asked you to name your reward and you did so. I will abide by my original bargain."

  "It . . . it wasn't precisely a bargain," she stammered, confused by her conflicting feelings. She supposed she should be grateful, but—

  Without warning, he stood, startling her again with his sheer size. "I feel I must honor it as such," he said firmly, pacing to the window and back. "Still, there are one or two particulars I wish to have clear before we take that irrevocable step."

  He continued to pace, not looking at her.

  "Particulars?" she prompted when the silence stretched into awkwardness.

  "Yes." He stopped, looming over her. "You made a rather, ah, unorthodox promise earlier. I wanted to determine just what you meant by it."

  Dina swallowed. She would not be afraid of this man. He had done nothing —yet —to directly threaten her.

  "I meant exactly what I said. All I require is a legally binding marriage certificate that I can show to the trustees, to prevent my brother from claiming my inheritance. Nothing more."

  "So we call the parson, marry over the anvil, then— what? Go our separate ways?"

 
She breathed easier at this evidence that he was willing to be reasonable. "Surely, that would be easiest for both of us."

  Frowning, he again seated himself opposite her. "Then you wish to simply go home and continue living on your brother's mortgaged estate after we marry?"

  "That was my intention, yes. Surely, it is what you would prefer, as well?"

  He raised one thick brow. "I was merely asking if that's what you would prefer. Personally, I think it would look dashed odd— unless you intend to keep our marriage a secret?"

  "No, I must inform my brother and the trustees, to secure my inheritance. In any event, secrecy would be difficult to maintain, would it not?" She was thinking of Violet.

  "It would. Nor would it serve my own purpose. For one thing, it would require me to lie to my parents, which I will not do."

  She found his uncompromising attitude oddly admirable. Such integrity was outside her experience.

  "What do you suggest, then?" she asked nervously. Silas, at least, was a known quantity, however unpleasant.

  He knit his brows thoughtfully for a moment. "I should like to take you home to meet my parents. From there, we can contact your trustees, and your brother, by letter. By now, I'm sure your brother is greatly concerned about you, however dishonest his intentions may have been."

  Dina wasn't sure of that at all, though she supposed it was possible. At least, she would like to think so. But there was a definite flaw in Mr. Turpin's plan, apart from that.

  "I really must return home first, even if only briefly," she said. "I brought only the barest necessities with me, for one thing. In addition, I dare not let Silas —or the trustees— assume that I was still unwed on my birthday. He might well spend a large portion of my inheritance before realizing his error."

  "Your birthday is when?"

  "Tomorrow. I realize that I can't reach Ashcombe by then, but the sooner I do, with proof of my marriage in hand, the sooner I can prevent Silas from doing any damage to my inheritance."

  He shrugged. "We can send a letter."

  "Yes, we should probably do so as soon as we are wed," she agreed. "But that won't solve my other problem."

  In addition to her clothes and other effects, she would prefer to retrieve what was left of her mother's jewels before Silas found them —and sold them. Of course, her brother would be furious when she returned with the news that she had successfully thwarted his plans, she realized with a shudder. He was perfectly capable of violence when angered. Still, she had learned to defend herself fairly well.

  "You don't really wish to go alone, do you?" His blue eyes were disturbingly perceptive.

  She blinked. "You will want to take Violet home as soon as possible, will you not? Your mother is worried, you said—"

  "I can send a letter to allay her fears. If you feel you must return to your brother's house before coming to mine, I will escort you. As your husband, I can scarcely do less."

  "If . . . if you feel it would be best." She couldn't deny a certain degree of relief at the idea of having him with her when she confronted Silas. "But what about Violet?"

  "She will have to come with us. If she finds the journey tedious, it is her own fault. Besides, her presence may reduce the . . . awkwardness we might face in traveling together alone."

  She had to agree that much was true. But then another thought occurred to her. "What on earth will your parents have to say about such an unexpected development?"

  "I suspect they will be delighted." He smiled wryly. "As Violet intimated, my mother has been quite anxious for me to marry. However, that brings us to a more . . . delicate matter."

  To her surprise, his face reddened slightly. When she suddenly realized why, she felt her own face pinkening in turn.

  "The, ah, nature of our marriage, you mean?" She couldn't think of a less embarrassing way to put it. "As I said, all I require is a marriage certificate."

  "Yes, and I'm to continue my own life however I see fit—in return, I presume, for making no, ah, physical demands upon you?"

  His question was gentle, but she suddenly found herself unable to meet his gaze. Though acutely embarrassed, she nodded.

  "Fine. I just wanted to have that clear," he said, his voice now brisk. Clearly, he was relieved to have that matter resolved.

  So was she, Dina told herself. Exceedingly relieved. Still, she couldn't deny a prick to her feminine pride. Diggory had lied about his attraction to her, and this man apparently felt none either. It seemed she was simply not the sort of woman that affected men in that way.

  Which was just as well, she told herself firmly. Mr. Turpin was so very large— larger even than Silas. In the throes of passion, he would surely be terrifying. Quite unexpectedly, her mind conjured a picture of him, shirtless, passionate. The emotion that accompanied the vision, however, was definitely not fear.

  Quickly, she set the vision —and the emotion —aside. The last thing she needed was any sort of emotional entanglement with this man, as she had given him carte blanche to continue his life unfettered. Should she grow to care for him, that would only lead to heartbreak and humiliation. No, platonic friendship was definitely best —for both of them.

  "I do require your cooperation in one area, however," he said then.

  She braced herself for some mention of his need to get an heir eventually. She could hardly refuse, even though—

  "Keeping my sister's elopement quiet. Perhaps we can say that you and I eloped, that she came along as your chaperone?"

  "Oh. Yes. That . . . that should serve. Once we are wed, you can trust me never to say anything that might sully Miss Turpin's reputation."

  "Thank you— again." His eyes held hers for a long moment, making her insides flutter.

  She stood, hiding her confusion under a businesslike manner. "Then we are agreed, Mr. Turpin. Now, we simply have the formality of the wedding to get through."

  Chapter Four

  Half an hour later, Thor found himself exchanging marriage vows in the same parlor where he and Miss Moore had negotiated their agreement. Mr. Elliot, the parson brought in by the innkeeper, offered to read them a longer, more traditional service for a higher fee. To Violet's evident disappointment, both of them declined.

  Having taken down their names and places of residence for the register and establishing that neither was already married, Mr. Elliot then asked, "Have you both come to this place of your own free will and accord?"

  "I have." Miss Moore's voice, though soft, was firm.

  "Mr. Turpin?"

  The absurdity of the situation struck Thor and for an instant he was tempted to comment upon it, but he mastered the urge and answered, as she had done, "I have."

  "Mr. Turpin, do you take this woman to be your lawful wedded wife, forsaking all others, keeping only to her as long as you both shall live?"

  With a distinct sense of unreality, Thor replied, "I do."

  He turned to Miss Moore and repeated the question. Thor half expected her to hesitate, but she spoke her assent as steadily as he had done.

  "Is there a ring?"

  Thor started, for he hadn't considered such a detail at all, but Miss Moore nodded. "I have one."

  Mr. Elliot held out his hand for the plain gold circlet, then handed it to Thor. "Place it on her finger."

  Thor took her small hand —it was less than half the size of his—and slid the ring onto her fourth finger. It was a bit too large, so she crooked her finger to keep it in place.

  "Now, Mr. Turpin, repeat after me. With this ring, I thee wed; with my body, I thee worship; with all my worldly goods I thee endow; in the name of the Father, Son and Holy Ghost. Amen."

  Feeling as though he were playing a part on stage, Thor repeated the words, vaguely wondering if it was blasphemy to do so under the circumstances.

  Even as that thought crossed his mind, Mr. Elliot placed her hand in his again and asked her to say, "What God has joined together, let no man put asunder."

  This time she did hesitate, bu
t only for a moment, before haltingly repeating the words. Her voice seemed higher than before, and rather breathless —not that Thor blamed her.

  He remembered her expression when he'd agreed to make no physical demands upon her. Stung by her obvious relief —even though he was relieved, as well—he had cravenly neglected to mention the succession. Now, too late, he wondered whether that had been fair to either of them.

  "Forasmuch as this man and this woman have consented to go together by giving and receiving a ring," Mr. Elliot intoned, "I therefore declare them to be man and wife before God and these witnesses in the name of the Father, Son and Holy Ghost. Amen. Now," he continued in a much less formal voice, "if you will each sign the register and this certificate, I'll be on my way."

  They did so, and it was over. Thor was married —to a woman he had met only two hours before. As the parson and innkeeper left the parlor with perfunctory congratulations, he commented, "Undine. That's an unusual name." What an inane thing to say at such a time.

  "I was named for my maternal grandmother," she said. "I suspect my father would have objected had he known it was mythological rather than Biblical."

  "A water sprite, as I recall." He smiled down at her, wanting to ease her obvious discomfort. "Oddly fitting."

  She glanced up at him in surprise. "Fitting? How so?"

  Before he could answer, Violet piped up. "He probably means because you are so small —sprite-like, you know."

  "Of course," Dina said, feeling less womanly than ever. "I suppose it's rather ironic that I've never even seen the sea."

  "We can remedy that. Plumrose Park is near Alford, only a dozen miles or so from the coast." Her new husband —how odd to think of this imposing stranger in that way! —was still smiling. He was almost disturbingly handsome when he smiled.

  "Well, Mrs. Turpin, shall we go?" he asked, compounding her feeling of disorientation. She would never be Dina Moore again.

  "Go?" she almost squeaked, thinking of the bedchamber upstairs. But he had promised—

  "Back to England," he clarified. "It is not yet noon, so if we start directly, we can be in Staffordshire tomorrow night."