An Heiress at Heart

by Jennifer Delamere

  She laid an extra bit of ironic stress on the word sir, reasoning that a lady would be affronted at being thus addressed by a stranger who was so obviously beneath her station.

  Weathers drew back, as though she had literally slapped him. “Why, Lizzie! What…” Confusion and doubt crossed his features. “You mean, you ain’t Lizzie Poole?”

  Lizzie’s throat constricted. She choked out, “I am sure I can be no one of your acquaintance.”

  In her anxiety to appear adequately offended, she overreached and spoke too harshly. She regretted it the moment she saw Weathers’s look of shame.

  She was inwardly thankful when Geoffrey said in an appeasing tone, “You are confused, old man. You are, in fact, addressing Mrs. Edward Somerville.”

  Weathers squinted as he studied Lizzie’s face, trying to reconcile Geoffrey’s statement with the contradicting evidence of his own eyes. Lizzie stood very still under his intense scrutiny, not trusting herself to move a muscle.

  Finally he seemed to accept Geoffrey’s words. His gaze dropped to the ground, and his face took on the self-effacing expression any poor man would use when addressing his betters. He bowed deferentially. “I beg your pardon, ma’am. I meant no harm by it, I’m sure.”

  Lizzie’s heart squeezed so tight she thought it might burst. She said nothing.

  “No harm done,” Geoffrey said kindly. “Perhaps your aged eyes are playing tricks on you.”

  Lizzie would have laid bets that Ben Weathers’s eyes were sharp as a hawk’s. But his humble posture never changed. He nodded and said, “Indeed, sir, I am sure that is what happened.” He bowed again. “I shan’t trouble the lady any further.”

  Geoffrey gently pulled Lizzie away from the staircase to clear the way for Weathers. She looked away then, pretending to peer with interest through one of the windows that opened onto the landing. She hoped Weathers would take this as a sign that he was already out of her thoughts.

  Even with her back to him, she could feel his curious gaze resting on her as he made his way toward the stairs. She let out a sigh of relief when the sound of his steps on the staircase faded away.

  “How extraordinary!” Lord Ashley exclaimed. “What do you make of that?”

  “I’m sure I couldn’t possibly guess.” Lizzie tried to speak nonchalantly, but to her dismay, it came out as a croak.

  “Clearly he thought he knew you,” Geoffrey said.

  “Yes, well…” She swallowed in an effort to loosen the knot in her throat. “As you said, his eyes were playing tricks on him.”

  Geoffrey shook his head. “I only said that to spare the old fellow some embarrassment.”

  “Why should you want to do that? It was impertinent for him to address me that way.”

  “Perhaps you resemble the daughter of someone he used to work for,” Lord Ashley offered. “He mentioned something about her father.”

  “That’s a reasonable guess,” said Geoffrey.

  Both men were taking the event far too seriously. Lizzie had to find a way to make the whole thing seem preposterous. What would Ria say? “I must say I find the whole thing horribly distressing.” She spoke lightly and punctuated the remark with an exaggerated pout.

  This brought a look of consternation from Geoffrey.

  Lord Ashley said, “Distressing? How so?”

  “I am horrified to think there may be someone out there who resembles me. It is so unflattering.” She tilted her head proudly. “I should like to think I am undeniably unique!”

  “Right you are, my dear!” Lord Ashley said with amusement. “It was unpardonable of us to discuss any other possibility.”

  She gave him a sunny smile. “I forgive you.” She peered once again through the window with a show of curiosity. “Shall we go inside? I am all anticipation to discover everything about this quaint little cottage.”

  Lord Ashley motioned her toward the open door. “You will be impressed, no doubt of that…”

  Lizzie thought she expressed a credible amount of interest as the earl showed off the modern conveniences in the simple dwelling. He pointed out the bedroom for the husband and wife, and two smaller rooms for the children.

  “Separate bedrooms!” he exclaimed happily. “To encourage modesty and high morals.”

  In the tiny scullery, he bubbled with pleasure as he demonstrated the separate chutes for coal and waste.

  Lizzie smiled and nodded appreciatively. She even managed to ask a few pertinent questions, although her mind kept returning to her encounter with Ben Weathers.

  Her actions had hurt and disappointed the old man, and she was sorry for that. It must have been at least ten years since he had last laid eyes on her. He wore those years plainly on his hunched figure. Yet he had recognized her. How many more of London’s lowliest denizens could still identify her?

  Only an hour ago she had been excited about attending the Great Exhibition. Now she was uneasy to think of spending hours in that vast building with hundreds—perhaps thousands—of people from every corner of London. The rich and the poor meet together…

  She would have to be very careful.

  *

  Geoffrey sat opposite Ria, watching her as the carriage skirted the southern edge of Hyde Park, heading east toward Mayfair. She sat with her head tilted back and her eyes closed, sinking more deeply into the cushioned seat with each rock and sway of the carriage. Everything in her face and posture indicated utter exhaustion. She had not spoken for some time.

  Geoffrey chastised himself for keeping her out so long, adding to her exertions by taking her to see the Prince’s Cottages. At the time she had seemed up to it, and had even shown a genuine interest. It was not until they had parted from Lord Ashley that signs of Ria’s fatigue began to surface. She had become subdued and watchful, carefully scanning the faces of everyone they passed as they returned to Geoffrey’s carriage. Perhaps she was looking for the old man who had spoken to her earlier.

  He was still mulling over the strange event. The fellow was convinced he knew Ria, though he had called her by another name. Ria had dismissed the incident out of hand, yet Geoffrey sensed that it upset her more than she acknowledged.

  Ria must have realized that he was studying her. She opened her eyes. Geoffrey thought he saw a certain vulnerability in her look, a sadness that he was tempted to think he understood. Her brows drew together, as though she were trying very hard to remember something. He wanted to reach out and take her hand, as one might comfort a lost child.

  He was glad he resisted the urge, because in an instant Ria’s expression changed to something altogether different. A mischievous smile wiped away any trace of the quiet, lost girl. She brought her hands to her cheeks and said, “Oh, dear—do I have a smudge on my face?”

  Geoffrey forced a smile and shook his head. “I was merely wondering whether you are well.”

  “Oh, yes. Perfectly well.” She reached up to check the placement of her bonnet and tucked back a stray lock of hair. “I confess I am tired, but that is no matter. It has been such an interesting morning.”

  The carriage stopped. Geoffrey peered out the window and saw that they had paused at the intersection with the wide avenue leading to Lady Thornborough’s home. Carriages, carts, and wagons streamed up and down the busy street. The driver must be waiting for an opportunity to enter the fray.

  “The Crystal Palace is such a marvel!” Ria said sprightly. “I cannot wait to see the inside.”

  “When will you go? Tomorrow?”

  “Oh, no. James says we must wait until Saturday, when the crowd is smaller due to the higher admission fee.”

  Ria was speaking in a light, silly tone, like so many of the society misses he’d met in London this season, and it chafed him. “You plan to avoid persons of the baser sort,” he said with a touch of sarcasm. “A brilliant plan. After all, you would not want a repeat of what happened today. Someone mistaking you for a commoner.”

  Ria’s face reddened. She must have caught the reproof in h
is tone. He was, therefore, taken aback when she nodded as though his words were perfectly sensible. “Quite right. I certainly would not want another such incident. That would be—”

  She was cut off in mid-sentence when the carriage lurched forward without warning. The driver must have found an opening and raced to take advantage of it. The unexpected movement threw Ria from her seat and she fell forward, landing on the floor of the carriage.

  “—awkward,” she finished.

  Instantly Geoffrey moved to help her up. His hands found their way around her slim waist, which sent an unpardonable array of sensations through him. “Are you hurt?” he asked, his voice hypocritically cool.

  Her face was mere inches from his. “I—I don’t think so,” she stammered.

  Slowly she managed to get her feet back under her. They both had to struggle for balance against the movement of the carriage as Geoffrey helped her back to her seat.

  When she was settled, Geoffrey dropped back into his own seat. The carriage continued to make its way briskly up the avenue, and Geoffrey was glad of that. It would be a relief to get Ria safely home and be on his way. She had stirred up entirely too many emotions today.

  Ria gave a little tug to her gloves and rearranged her shawl as the carriage pulled up to Lady Thornborough’s home. Her cheeks were tinged with pink—a vivid contrast to the day he first laid eyes on her, sprawled unconscious on those white marble steps.

  The coachman opened the door. Geoffrey descended from the carriage and turned to help Ria. Once she was safely down she stood unnervingly close, looking up at him, making no effort to move away. Every time she drew near like this, he found their surroundings seemed to fade, and only Ria was in sharp outline. The subtle scent of roses reached out and enveloped him.

  “Thank you for bringing me home, Geoffrey. I know it was an inconvenience for you.”

  Her tone was subdued.

  Again he felt that strange need to console her. “I think we can safely blame James for any inconvenience.”

  “Then we must also ‘blame’ him for affording us an opportunity to resolve some of our differences.” She smiled. “I know I chatter on like a silly woman sometimes, but I am glad we had this time together today.”

  “So am I.” He meant it, for here was another glimpse of the Ria he wished to know better. He cleared his throat. “Might I come round tomorrow?” Somehow he felt like a fool for asking, as though he were some sort of suitor, so he added, “I would love to hear anything you can tell me about Edward.”

  She seemed genuinely pleased at his request as she replied, “Of course. I shall enjoy it.”

  Like everyone else in London, Geoffrey found himself eaten up with curiosity about how Edward had spent his final years. Although unlike most of London, he had a right to know. There were other things Geoffrey knew he should discuss with Ria as well, although he did not say so. Certain legal matters would need to be addressed regarding her status as Edward’s widow. But these could wait until tomorrow.

  The door to Lady Thornborough’s home opened. Harding stood there, watching them expectantly. Geoffrey led Ria up the steps.

  “Until tomorrow, then,” she said with a smile, and disappeared inside.

  In spite of his earlier urge to be gone as soon as possible, Geoffrey stood for a moment, unwilling to move, watching as the door closed behind her.

  Chapter 15

  Lady Thornborough looked up from her writing desk as Lizzie entered the drawing room. “Goodness, child, where have you been? I was beginning to worry.”

  “I’m sorry I’m late.” Lizzie gave her a kiss on the cheek. As she did so, she noticed that the writing desk was covered with invitations. Lady Thornborough was probably arranging a dinner party—with Lizzie as the guest of honor. “I was with Geoffrey. Did James not send word?”

  “No, he did not. That’s just like him. He probably went to his club and didn’t give it another thought.” She set her quill into its stand. “You were with Lord Somerville, did you say?”

  “Yes.” Seeing the multitude of questions in the woman’s eyes, Lizzie turned away. She was not ready to answer them. The memory of what had passed between her and Geoffrey in the carriage was still too fresh. The surprising jolt of pleasure she’d felt at his touch still coursed through her. He’d caught her and held her close, steadying her feet but unsteadying her heart.

  She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror over the fireplace and saw that her face glowed pink. This fact did not escape Lady Thornborough either. “Are you well, my dear?” She rose from the desk and rang for the butler.

  “I am tired,” Lizzie admitted. She sank slowly into a chair. Her legs were dangerously wobbly.

  “I have ordered more of Cook’s special broth for luncheon. That should help you recover from your exertions.”

  Lizzie did her best to keep from making a sour face. It was possible to have too much of a good thing, she decided. Cook’s broth was proof of that.

  Harding entered. His gaze rested for only the briefest of moments on Lizzie, but she was sure he had missed nothing. He had heard her farewells with Geoffrey on the front steps, seen the look on her face that most likely belied her formal words. She did not have a “poker face,” as Tom had called it. A term he had learned from the Americans who had come to Sydney.

  “Harding, you may tell Cook that we are ready for luncheon,” Lady Thornborough informed the butler.

  “Right away, madam.”

  Harding withdrew and closed the door, and Lizzie found herself breathing a sigh of relief. He managed to bring about the same kind of schoolmaster’s terror in Lizzie that Ria had suffered.

  Lady Thornborough turned her attention back to Lizzie. “Did things go well with you and Lord Somerville today?”

  Lizzie carefully smoothed her gown. “Of course.”

  “Are you on amicable terms, then?”

  “You could say that.” Lizzie did not aim to be coy with her, but the powerful reaction she’d had to Geoffrey was not something she could divulge. She continued to move her hands slowly over her gown, attempting to draw strength from its silky coolness.

  “Well, that’s a relief,” Lady Thornborough said. “I am glad you took my advice to heart. We are all family now, after all.”

  Family. Lizzie had come back to England in search of her family, and she’d certainly found one in Lady Thornborough and James. Her feelings toward Geoffrey were harder to define. It had been too easy today to forget that he was supposed to be her brother-in-law. “He’s going to call again tomorrow,” she said. Geoffrey wanted to see her again, and no matter the reason for it, she was undeniably glad.

  “Excellent,” Lady Thornborough said with satisfaction. “I believe it will be a good thing for you to spend time together.” She laid a cool hand on Lizzie’s hot cheek. “Are you sure you are up to making calls with me today?”

  Lizzie took a deep breath, hoping it would settle the quick, shallow beats of her heart. “Of course. Cook’s broth is bound to give me all the strength I need.”

  *

  “It’s incredibly exciting,” Lady Cardington declared, her voice filling the ornate and overstuffed drawing room. The other women who were present nodded in agreement.

  This visit to the home of Lady Cardington was the last call Lizzie and Lady Thornborough would make today, and Lizzie was counting the minutes until they could leave. It was a tedious business, getting in and out of carriages, being led upstairs into drawing rooms, being announced, and making introductions—all for the sake of a trivial fifteen-minute conversation.

  The only relief for Lizzie was that she was not the primary topic of interest after all. It was Geoffrey who could claim that honor. Everywhere they went, the talk was the same: society matrons and their daughters vigorously discussed Lord Somerville and how he was the unexpected bounty of the season. Somewhat of an oddity, to be sure, but undeniably the biggest and best catch nonetheless.

  Hearing Geoffrey reduced time and time again to
a mere prize to be won was sorely trying to Lizzie’s nerves. Surely he was more than that. During their time together this morning, she began to see the man beneath the labels that had been heaped upon him. She realized she’d been just as guilty of shallow assumptions as everyone else. He was not the critical clergyman she had initially thought him to be; neither was he simply the most eligible peer in this season’s marriage market. Lizzie was beginning to suspect he’d make a fine husband, although not for the reasons she’d heard bandied about thus far.

  Geoffrey had told her at their first meeting that he did not take pleasure in titles. She believed that now. He’d been forced to change his life’s plans, to fulfill a role he’d never prepared for. He must be struggling under a load of pressure. Perhaps they could help each other, as Lord Ashley had said. Her position as his sister-in-law would allow them to spend a lot of time together if they wished. Lizzie found she was happy at this prospect. She might just have to guard against caring for him too much.

  “My husband is of the opinion that Lord Somerville intends to marry as soon as possible,” said one of the ladies, who had been introduced to Lizzie as Mrs. Paddington. She was a tall, slender woman who wore a gown with a garish red-and-green tartan design. Lizzie had learned during an earlier house call that plaids were all the rage this season. Her eyes were nearly crossed from the varieties of plaid she had been subjected to this afternoon.

  “My husband spoke to Lord Somerville at the club last week,” Mrs. Paddington related with a superior smile. “Of course, he badgered the poor man for the particulars—you know how my husband is such an incorrigible gossip!” Several women tittered at this remark. “But even my Stanley could get no details out of him.”

  “He has been very careful not to show a preference for any particular lady,” Lady Cardington said with a knowing air. “But I can tell where his eye is heading…” She let her voice trail off dramatically as she looked pointedly toward Lucinda, her eldest daughter.