An Heiress at Heart

by Jennifer Delamere

  Despite his preoccupation with Hightower and Ria, Geoffrey had not missed the fact that both Miss Emily and Miss Shaw had been vying for James’s attention all evening. James had so far managed the balancing act with finesse. He now said expansively, “I propose a friendly game of whist—for everyone!”

  “Whist?” Ria repeated. She looked as though this idea did not appeal to her.

  “Of course!” James said. “Do you remember how many hours we used to while away at that game? And the particular way our tutor punished us when it caused us to neglect our studies?”

  “Let me see…” Ria considered the question.

  Hightower watched Ria intently, as though her answer were of vital importance.

  “Was that the time he put us in opposite corners of the room?” Ria said finally. “Or the time he had us write out our geography lesson five times?”

  “What a good memory you have, cousin!” James replied with a laugh. “We certainly got into a lot of bad scrapes, didn’t we?”

  Ria smiled, and her gaze slipped in Hightower’s direction. Hightower’s look had been replaced by something Geoffrey would have called incredulity.

  James said, “Actually, I was thinking of the day our tutor sent us below stairs to clean the pots. He told us if we were not going to learn our lessons, we may as well join the kitchen help because we were no better than the scullery maid!”

  This jab at the servants brought laughter from many of the guests. Geoffrey did not join in, and he was oddly gratified to see that Ria was not laughing either. In fact, she was frowning.

  “That was a superb way to teach a lesson,” Lord Cardington said, his portly stomach shaking. “Who was this tutor? I should have hired him for my Emily.”

  “You know I would learn nothing under the tyranny of such a man, Papa,” Miss Emily replied tartly. “I need someone kind and understanding to teach me.” She gave James a look that could have melted an iceberg. James responded with a wink.

  His gesture must have escaped Miss Shaw, which was probably a good thing. She said, “Oh, I agree with you, Miss Emily. But then, I find studying to be so tedious, no matter who the tutor is.”

  Geoffrey thought of the dozens of boys in his tiny parish who would have loved to have been under the “tyranny” of any tutor.

  “I do not think there is shame in cleaning pots,” Lucinda said quietly.

  Ria nodded in agreement. “The knowledge of how to clean pots came in handy when I was living in Australia, to be sure.”

  “All this is neither here nor there,” James said. “I believe the subject was whist. So cousin, I hope you are not out of practice with that, too?”

  “Oh no,” Ria answered. “Pianos may have been scarce in Australia, but there was certainly no shortage of cards!”

  She said this in a lighthearted manner, and everyone laughed again. However, a hint of worry crossed her expressive face, giving Geoffrey the feeling that she was not looking forward to the game.

  “I will not have you playing for money,” Lady Thornborough said. “Not in my house.”

  “Then we shall play for points,” James said. “For the pure fun of it.”

  Lady Thornborough rose from her chair. “Well, gentlemen, we ladies shall retire now for some edifying conversation, while you sort out who shall be paired for the card games.”

  There was a bustle of movement as the gentlemen rose to help the ladies from the table. James assisted Miss Emily, which brought him another adoring look.

  Ria linked her arm in Lady Thornborough’s, answering some question the old lady was putting to her. Ria’s white gold hair, contrasting sharply with her grandmother’s dark dress, was the last Geoffrey saw of her as the ladies left the room.

  Hightower followed his gaze. “She is an enchanting creature, is she not?” His voice held both appreciation and something else that Geoffrey could not define. “You must be so happy to have your sister-in-law back, even though she brought the sad news of your brother’s death.”

  “I am happy that she has returned,” Geoffrey said. “What’s done is done, and I pray only the best for her now.”

  The butler offered brandy, which Geoffrey gladly accepted.

  Hightower pulled out a cigar, twirling it in his fingers and savoring its smell. He made an elaborate show of lighting it. “Is it true you never met Ria before her elopement with Edward?”

  “It is.”

  “She seems eager to get to know you now. Her interest in you is unmistakable.”

  Geoffrey leveled a hard look at him. “I am her last link with Edward. She loved him very much.”

  James said with a smile, “Freddie, you are jealous because Ria will not act as every other woman does and instantly give you her affections.”

  Hightower took a long draw from his cigar before responding. “Perhaps she already has.”

  “What do you mean to imply by that?” Geoffrey asked coldly.

  Freddie looked at him over the smoke of his cigar. “It would be natural, would it not? After all, she is a young widow; I am a desolate young widower. We are kindred spirits. Two souls who have loved and lost.”

  The only time Geoffrey had seen Hightower and his wife together, the man had been barely civil to her. Geoffrey was sure he wasted no tears when the poor woman died. “If you and Mrs. Hightower were in love, you did an admirable job of hiding it.”

  Freddie’s look of contempt was probably aimed at Geoffrey, though it could well have been for his dead wife. “Some sentiments are best kept private.”

  James either did not see or chose to ignore the growing frostiness in the conversation. He said lightly, “You are both wrong. Clearly, Ria is in love with me.”

  “In that case, I should warn her to be careful,” Hightower said. “God knows what will happen to her if Miss Shaw or Miss Emily gets knowledge of it. Hell hath no fury, you know.”

  Geoffrey threw a concerned glance toward the fathers of the two ladies in question, but thankfully they had not heard Hightower’s remark. They were deep in some political discussion at the other end of the table.

  “I have my hands full with all the ladies,” James said with unabashed pride. “It is such a trial sometimes.” He took a sip of his brandy. “It would be lovely to marry Ria, of course. But the estate is ailing, and I must find a rich wife. Someone who will be glad for my family connections and bring a sizable dowry to the marriage.”

  “I am glad to see your priorities are in the right place,” Geoffrey said.

  James answered the rebuff with an easy grin.

  “How about you, Lord Somerville?” Hightower said with a smirk. “It appears the velvet noose is about to close around you. The elder Miss Cardington seems to think she has a claim. Does she meet your qualifications?”

  This conversation rankled him, but Geoffrey held his peace. He would not sink to their level of discussing women as though they were cards to be picked up or tossed down.

  “Time will tell,” he said.

  *

  Geoffrey found himself partnered with Lucinda at whist, playing against James and Miss Shaw. Hightower had insisted Ria sit with him at the other table. Geoffrey had been unable to object too strenuously to this plan, for fear of hurting Lucinda’s feelings. However, he kept a close eye on what was going on between them.

  As they played, Hightower kept looking at Ria intently each time he played a card. Ria did not appear to be an accomplished player. If she had played many hours together with James, she must have since forgotten the strategies of the game. She would return Hightower’s look, and then glance down at her cards with a completely baffled expression. “Goodness me,” she said. “What was the trump again?”

  They were losing nearly every hand, despite the fact that they did not have strong opponents. Mr. Shaw always played the wrong suit, and Miss Emily kept sending sidelong glances at James and Miss Shaw, as though trying to size up the competition.

  Ria laid down a card that must have been a bad choice, and Hightower t
ossed his entire hand onto the table in disgust. “It’s good we are not playing for money,” he said. “I would have lost my fortune twice over by now.”

  “I never claimed to be a good player,” Ria said with a laugh that struck Geoffrey as strained.

  “Nor I,” said Miss Emily, who looked even more relieved than Ria that the game was over. She stood up and sidled in James’s direction. “Lucinda plays the piano beautifully. Perhaps we can have a dance?”

  *

  Lizzie thought she had been doing so well, deliberately ignoring the signals she and Freddie had developed when they played whist together in Europe. But she had not anticipated having to dance as a result. It would have been better to win at cards than to risk dancing with him. Freddie was gloating as though Emily Cardington had played right into his plans.

  “No dancing,” said Lady Thornborough, much to Lizzie’s relief. “There is no room. But it would be a pleasure to hear Miss Cardington play for us.”

  Looking embarrassed, Lucinda said, “My sister overestimates my abilities.”

  “Nonsense,” her mother declared roundly. “You play exquisitely.”

  This hefty claim only made Lucinda look even more uncomfortable. “But I have not prepared anything.”

  “We have plenty of music,” Lady Thornborough said. “Ria can help you.” She gestured to Lizzie.

  “Of course.” Lizzie knew exactly where the sheet music was stored. She’d found it one day while she’d been investigating the house, trying to figure out where Martha had once hidden Lady Thornborough’s bracelet. She led Lucinda to the music cabinet.

  As they selected the appropriate music, Lucinda said, “Will you help me with turning the pages?”

  Lizzie hesitated. She could not admit that she did not read music. She glanced away, only to see Freddie watching and listening, as he had done all evening. All the questions he’d put to her, and the game of cards, had been nothing more than probing, testing, looking for a break in her performance to prove she was not Ria. This evening had already been excruciatingly long, and it wasn’t over yet.

  She turned away from Freddie and found herself looking into Geoffrey’s friendly countenance. He, too, had been watching her. But his attention had been welcome—unlike Freddie’s attempts to lay a snare. Over and over again, Lizzie had been drawn to the quiet strength that Geoffrey unconsciously exuded. She reminded herself that she must not lean on him too much. Nevertheless, she was grateful when he said, “I can help Miss Cardington with the music.”

  This suggestion met with a murmur of approval from everyone. Lady Cardington threw a knowing glance at her husband, as though she took this as further proof of Geoffrey’s intentions toward her daughter. It probably was, Lizzie thought, with a stab of jealousy.

  Lucinda shyly thanked him, barely meeting his eyes before seating herself at the piano. Lizzie noted that her hands trembled as she arranged the music.

  While some of the men busied themselves rearranging chairs, Freddie was again at her side. “I doubt the poor girl will be able to play anything worth hearing. She seems afraid of her own shadow.”

  “Not everyone likes being the center of attention,” Lizzie said. She herself had received far too much of it this evening.

  Geoffrey was now standing next to Lucinda, poised to turn the music. Although there was a modest distance between the two of them, it was painfully easy to imagine them as a couple. Lucinda’s continued blushing did nothing to allay that impression.

  Lizzie allowed Freddie to lead her to a chair.

  “Perhaps Miss Cardington is trembling because Lord Somerville is so near,” Freddie said, his voice laced with suggestive tones. “She must be in love. What a fine couple they will make.”

  Lizzie’s envy was heightened by remorse. She would never be worthy to claim this man. She must be forced to endure the advances of a man like Freddie while watching Geoffrey turn his attentions toward another. That was the cruelest punishment of all. But one day soon her dealings with Freddie would be over. “We mustn’t be premature,” she said. “Nothing is official yet.”

  “I’m sure it’s just a matter of time,” Freddie taunted her. He bent over to whisper in her ear. “I can’t help thinking, though, that you are the far superior woman. What a shame that the law prevents him from marrying you.”

  His breath, smelling of brandy and coffee, sent a ripple of disgust through her. “Me? Oh, heavens, no,” Lizzie said with a dismissive air, marveling at what a good actress she was. “The law makes no difference in this case. My brother-in-law has no interest in me, nor I in him.”

  She tried to tame the irrational wish that she could be the one seated at that piano, playing while Geoffrey leaned in to turn the pages. She could imagine the warmth of him as he stood close behind her, the glorious feeling of being all but wrapped in his arms. She fanned herself. “Miss Cardington is clearly the superior talent. I don’t play half as well.”

  “On the contrary,” Freddie answered sardonically. “I would say you play rather well.”

  He leaned back in his chair and said no more. Lizzie pretended to be absorbed in the music. She had played well, she thought. She would keep on beating back Freddie’s advances, avoiding his poisonous darts until she had played the game her way. Most important, she would never give Freddie the satisfaction of seeing how much she loved Geoffrey. That was one truth that would remain locked in her heart forever.

  Chapter 27

  Geoffrey walked late into the night, trying to make sense out of what had happened that evening. The streets were quiet now, and he hoped the cool air would clear his head so he could find some answers.

  He was aware of Ria’s former reputation as a light-headed society miss—her beautiful face and figure had captivated the gentlemen, but she hadn’t cared very much for the finer things of the mind. The Ria he was getting to know seemed more sensible and mature. It was true that at times—usually when she was in the company of others—he’d seen a certain shallowness manifest itself. But he sensed that a deeper, quieter person lay underneath. Someone whom, for no discernable reason, she seemed determined to hide.

  Would Ria revert to her old ways now that she was back in London? Would she prefer to spend her time with men like James? Geoffrey believed her cousin to be a reasonably good-hearted man at his core, and yet he could not condone James’s preference for an idle and irresponsible kind of life. Is that what Ria wanted, too? After the trial of so many difficult years, was she eager to return to a life of mindless ease?

  That moment they had shared in the carriage—that moment that meant so much to Goeffrey—had she already forgotten it? Geoffrey was surprised, and not a little disconcerted, that she’d hardly spoken a word to him all evening. She’d spent most of her time with that abominable Hightower, and what was most galling, she appeared at times to be openly flirting with him. He had not missed the way Ria had laughed at her own silliness while she played cards, or the way she and Hightower had sat together whispering during Lucinda’s performance. Why, then, did he still have the sense that she was not entirely at ease around Hightower? He was positive he’d seen a look of sharp discomfort cross her face several times. She was not required to spend time with the man. What had motivated her?

  His offer to turn the music for Lucinda stayed on Geoffrey’s mind, too. He knew it would only provide more fodder for the gossips. He had not intended that; his offer had been an instant decision, a reflex based on something he’d seen in Ria’s expression. Had he been wrong in thinking he’d detected distress there? Or had the distress been simply that she did not want to leave Hightower’s side?

  This, he thought gloomily, brought him right back to his initial question. Hightower had monopolized her all evening, and she had allowed him to do it. Why?

  Given his relative inexperience with women, Geoffrey was tempted to put the evening’s events down to his lack of understanding about how these bizarre society games were played. But something in the depths of his being insisted th
ere was more to it than that.

  Perhaps he was the problem. He had spent far too much time thinking of Ria. She had angered him, worried him, perplexed him, and now she was close to exhausting him. How had this been possible? He had never been a man to let his emotions rule him. Why should things be different now? He should wish to love Ria as a sister. But these were most definitely not the feelings she was drawing from him. He could only be disappointed in himself for this. He had to find some way to regain his equilibrium, and to do what was right.

  Slowly he made his way back to his house. Mrs. Claridge must have been awaiting his return; she opened the front door for him. “My goodness, sir, it’s not like you to be out so late. You’ll catch your death. Don’t you know the night air is bad for you?”

  He inhaled one last breath of cool air before she closed the door. “Exactly how does ‘night’ air differ from ‘daytime’ air, Mrs. Claridge? What sort of dangerous stuff does it contain?”

  Mrs. Claridge gave him an exasperated look. “You do ask the strangest questions, sir.”

  “Do I?” he mused. “I can assure you I have questions far more outlandish than that.” He rubbed his eyes, still trying to clear his brain. “Questions for which there seem to be no answers.”

  Mrs. Claridge folded her hands comfortably in front of her as she regarded him. “It’s a good thing you know the One who has the answers, eh?” she said kindly. “If you are troubled, you might well ask Him for help.”

  It was simple wisdom. And the best. “Right you are, Mrs. Claridge. As always.”

  “I certainly don’t claim that,” she returned. “But might I suggest you go to bed, sir? It only makes a person gloomy to be up all night in the shadows. Things often look better in the light of day.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Claridge. I shall be off to bed soon.”

  Nevertheless, Geoffrey knew that sleep was far from him. He went to the library, still continuing his reflections over Ria. She truly was a riddle. How could she be so completely different in public than she was when the two of them were alone? What was driving the two facets of her personality?