An Heiress at Heart

by Jennifer Delamere

  He sighed, thought of Mrs. Claridge’s admonition, and turned to prayer.

  *

  The dedication ceremony had drawn quite a crowd.

  Lizzie was squeezed in with other invited guests near a small stage that had been set up in front of the new housing project. Behind them, curious onlookers lined the streets, all vying for a better view. Most were gawking at the finely dressed gentlemen and ladies—a rarity in this part of London. Lady Thornborough had been too worn out by the dinner party to come this morning, but she had grudgingly allowed Lizzie to go, so long as she took along Martha and a footman for propriety’s sake.

  Her first thought on arriving had been to find Geoffrey and speak to him. She’d spotted him near the stage before the ceremony began, but was unable to reach him for the crowd. He’d been surrounded by those who were the primary sponsors of this project, including the Cardingtons. Lizzie’s heart gave another jealous lurch as she saw Lucinda’s face smiling up into his as they chatted.

  Lord Ashley had been waxing eloquent for quite some time about what adequate housing would mean to the deserving workers and their families. It was getting on toward noon, and the day was warm. Trickles of sweat rolled down the back of Lizzie’s neck.

  “He sure knows how to talk, don’t he?” Martha whispered, causing Lizzie to smile.

  But the earl was nearing the end of his speech. “And now, I would like to invite the Reverend Lord Somerville to give the benediction.”

  Lizzie was positively enraptured as she watched Geoffrey walk up the steps to the platform. He looked so handsome, so dignified. He looked out over the crowd, and his eyes seemed to catch hers almost immediately. He could do no more than give her a brief smile, but Lizzie did not miss the sincerity behind it. He was glad she was here. She smiled back broadly.

  “In the name of God and Our Lord…” he began, his voice strong and clear.

  Everyone bowed their heads, including Lizzie, although she could not resist glancing up a few times just to look at him. About the third time she did this, something else caught her eye. To her far right, Molly Weathers was standing just behind the barrier that had been erected for the invited guests, looking straight at her.

  “Please,” Molly mouthed, her eyes beseeching. She held up a basket of apples, and Lizzie understood. Molly wanted to speak to her, but would not risk embarrassing her.

  Lizzie bowed her head again as Geoffrey finished his prayer. For the first time in longer than she could remember, she found herself praying, too. Please, Lord, she thought fervently. What should I do? Lizzie was not sure if she would recognize an answer. But she knew she had to find out what Molly wanted.

  She dabbed lightly at her face with a handkerchief, trying to remain patient while Lord Ashley gave a few more closing remarks. At last, it was over. There was a round of applause, and the crowd slowly began to disperse.

  “Wait here,” Lizzie told Martha. “I want to buy an apple from that girl over there.”

  “I can do that for you, madam,” Martha said in surprise.

  “No, I want to do it. Please wait here. I won’t be long.”

  “Yes, madam,” Martha said, reluctantly obeying. “Mind your reticule; I’ve spotted more than one unsavory type wandering about.”

  Lizzie pressed her way through the crowd, looking around to be sure no one who knew her was close by. She could not afford to have anyone overhear their conversation.

  “Buy an apple, madam?” Molly said deferentially as Lizzie approached.

  “Yes, thank you.” She pulled out enough coins for a dozen apples and dropped them into Molly’s palm.

  Molly’s eyes widened. “Thank you, madam.”

  She held Lizzie’s eyes for several long beats. Lizzie did not dare speak. She wanted to reach out to Molly, to apologize for how she had treated her grandfather. It was tempting, but too dangerous. She could not risk exposing herself, not yet. She hoped her expression told Molly everything she could not say. At last, Lizzie felt she must move on. She turned away.

  “If you please, madam.”

  “Yes?” Lizzie turned back, realizing she had not taken the apple.

  She now saw that Molly’s hand held both an apple and a folded piece of paper.

  “If you please,” Molly said again, very low, “I have a letter from Tom.”

  Her words sent Lizzie reeling. A letter from Tom? She knew she should be pretending ignorance, but she didn’t have the strength. “Tom is dead,” she whispered. She looked at the paper with a kind of incredulous hope.

  “He’s not!” Molly said, her eyes shining. “This came enclosed in another letter to my family, explaining that he had survived a terrible shipwreck and was desperate to find you. He thought you might be in London, and he begged us, as dear old friends, to do all we could to find you. As soon as we received this letter, Grandfather knew the woman he’d seen in Hyde Park had to have been you after all.”

  She slid the smooth apple and the rough paper into Lizzie’s hand. Wonder, joy, and terror came with it. Was Tom really alive?

  “I shan’t trouble you again, madam. I can see you’re in a good place now, and I wish you well. But my family and I… well, we were sure you’d want to know.”

  “Thank you,” Lizzie rasped. For giving my brother back to me.

  Molly gave her a brief smile and a curtsy, and walked away. With great difficulty, Lizzie summoned up the presence of mind to slip the letter into her reticule. Slowly, numbly, she made her way back to spot where she’d left Martha. Geoffrey was there now, too. And—because the world could not get any more dangerously unbalanced—so were James and Freddie. They were all looking at her, in their different ways and for entirely different reasons. It was like the heat of a hundred suns beating down on her. She practically gasped, finding no air at all.

  “Dear Lord, the heat is incredible,” James said. “I shall never forgive Geoffrey for bringing us to Spitalfields when we should be lounging under a tree in Hyde Park.” Seeing the apple in her hand, he added, “I see you are in need of refreshment, too.”

  “Have you been here long?” Lizzie asked hoarsely. They must have seen her with Molly. Had anything looked amiss?

  “We’ve just arrived,” Freddie said. “Sorry we missed the fun. James seemed to have been mixed up about the time.” As he said this, he threw a glance toward the street corner where Molly had been standing. It looked casual enough, but it filled Lizzie with dread.

  She was in a waking nightmare now. The most fantastic, topsy-turvy kind of dream, where nothing was solid, all was shifting, constantly re-forming into shapes that would dissolve as soon as she reached out to touch them.

  “Perhaps coming out here was too taxing after such a late night,” Geoffrey said with an apologetic look at her.

  “No,” Lizzie assured him with a tremulous smile. “I’m glad I came.” If joy laced with fear could be called “gladness.”

  The next hour was the longest Lizzie had ever endured. When at last she was home and Martha had helped her change into a more casual day gown, Lizzie was able to be alone. With trembling hands, she pulled out the letter and began to read.

  My Dearest Lizzie,

  If this letter makes it into your hands, I can only imagine your surprise and wonder. Yes, I am alive. Somehow I made it to shore, to a lonely stretch of land where I was found, half-dead, by some aborigines. By the time I’d recovered and made my way back to Bathurst, you were gone. Rev. Greene says you’ve gone back to England, so I’m sending this in care of Ben Weathers, in the hope that he can find you.

  Oh, Lizzie, you don’t know the heartache I’ve been through. I don’t blame you for selling everything, thinking I was dead. But why did you leave? I have an inkling you were too taken by Ria’s stories. Don’t put your faith in them. No good can come of stirring up the past.

  As soon as I can collect passage money, I’ll come back to search for you myself. For now, I send this letter on the fastest possible boat, and have the audacity to pray to Go
d (despite all I’ve done) that it reaches you. If it has, write to me right away and tell me where to reach you. You must know that I am in agony until I hear that you are safe.

  Your loving,

  Tom

  Lizzie cried.

  She cried with all her heart and strength, long and desperately. She cried for joy that Tom was alive, and in despair of ever seeing him again.

  How could she even think of revealing herself now? If she did, Freddie would hound her about Tom’s whereabouts. She would never give him this information, but he knew she’d been in Australia, and he would know where to begin his search. He would undoubtedly go after Tom and seek retribution. She had been willing to risk many things for herself, but how could she risk her brother’s life after all he’d done for her? She would have to break off all ties with her brother, for his own sake. Tom was alive, but he might well be lost to her forever. Lizzie thought she understood now what Geoffrey had been going through on the day she met him. Like him, she had now lost a brother twice.

  Chapter 28

  Miss Emily Cardington had Lizzie cornered at the refreshment table. She was flushed and her eyes sparkled with joy. “I am absolutely ecstatic!” she exclaimed.

  It was the Cardingtons’ charity gala—the final event before Lizzie and Lady Thornborough left London, and Lizzie was doing her best to take in Emily’s silly chatter, even as she was counting the hours until she could escape. She was on a knife’s edge, caught between elation at her brother’s miraculous survival and a new fear for his life. She had to get away—far from Freddie, far from the endless demands placed upon her in town. She needed time to think, to decide what she should do.

  Just one more night, and I will be gone. If I can just get through this night.

  “I danced with James,” Emily said, bringing Lizzie’s thoughts back to the party. “It was heaven.” She pulled Lizzie away from the group of ladies near the table and spoke to her in a confidential tone. “And after the dance, James and I went out to the terrace—just to cool down after the dancing. It’s so dreadfully hot in here.”

  She blushed, and Lizzie imagined that Emily and James had done more than breathe in the fresh night air. Lizzie suspected the girl was getting in over her head, and she knew all too well where such things could lead. “Emily, I don’t think it was wise for you and James to be outside alone. Someone might misconstrue your actions as improper.”

  “Really?” said Emily with an impish smile. “Then wait until I tell you who we saw out there.” She glanced around to make sure no one could overhear. “Lucinda and Lord Somerville were seated together on a bench in the far corner, where it is very dark and they were nearly hidden from view.”

  A sort of numbness traveled over Lizzie at hearing this news. “Go on.”

  “Well, that’s all there is,” Emily admitted. “They were only talking. But James and I could tell they were talking very earnestly. Don’t you see? He was probably proposing marriage!”

  No, Lizzie thought desperately. Not tonight. Her heart was already pushed to the brink.

  Emily had practically squealed—a sound which drew disapproving glances from two elderly ladies who were standing a short distance away. She fanned herself and took several deep breaths, which enabled her to speak again in a quieter tone. “Perhaps they will announce their engagement tonight.”

  Lizzie had known it could happen, of course. But the knowledge could not prevent the strange lurch her stomach was taking right now. “It might not be a proposal. Just because they were talking together…”

  “James was convinced that it was,” Emily insisted. “And he seemed curiously put out about it.”

  “Did he? Why would he be against the match?”

  “That is exactly the question I asked myself,” Emily said with a little nod of her chin, as though she and Lizzie were both very clever people indeed. “And I have divined the answer. If James intends to ask for my hand…” She took Lizzie’s free hand into her own. “I do hope that is the case, don’t you?”

  Lizzie blinked. Her mind was so agitated it took a few moments to realize Emily had asked her a question. She nodded vaguely. “Of course.”

  “You are a dear,” Emily said, squeezing her hand so hard that Lizzie had to work hard to keep from spilling the punch that was in her other hand.

  “Go on,” Lizzie prompted. “If James asks you…”

  Emily’s smile widened. “He is always joking about what a bore Lord Somerville is. Perhaps he does not want Lucinda to marry him, because then when James marries me, they will be brothers-in-law!”

  “Really, Miss Emily,” Lizzie said, trying to keep the impatience out of her voice. “Why should James be concerned about that? There are far worse things than having Lord Somerville for a brother-in-law.”

  “You would know,” Emily said. “I mean, since he actually is your brother-in-law.” But her attention was already elsewhere. She excused herself and hurried toward a group of young ladies—no doubt to apprise them of her sister’s pending nuptials.

  Lizzie made her way through the crowded ballroom and found an unoccupied chair on the far side. She leaned back in her chair, watching the dancers without really seeing them.

  Was Geoffrey about to marry Lucinda Cardington? He’d shown every indication that he was courting her, of course. Lizzie should not be surprised if he announced his engagement. Only, somewhere in the depths of her heart, she was surprised. Sorely disappointed, too. It was wrong of her to feel that way. It was not as though she could ever claim Geoffrey’s affections—not now, and certainly not once the truth about her was known. Why, then, did the last ounce of hope on this subject painfully refuse to leave her?

  “My dear Mrs. Somerville, what are you doing hiding in this corner?”

  She turned to see Freddie. The man whose presence brought on all her thoughts of despair.

  “You have been avoiding me all evening. I am beginning to feel genuinely slighted.” He held out his hand. “Shall we? It’s a waltz. I happen to know that you dance the waltz very well.”

  “Oh? And how would you know that?”

  “I saw you dancing at Lord Beauchamp’s ball, of course.”

  Of course.

  “It was there,” Freddie continued, “that, as I recall, you promised me a dance.”

  There was no way around it. She would have to dance with him. She must do all she could to make it convincing. One more night.

  As she stood, she gave one of Ria’s silly giggles. “Then I must dance with you, mustn’t I? It wouldn’t do for a lady not to keep her word.”

  His smile was friendly like a fox. “No one would ever accuse you of not being a lady.”

  Lizzie took his arm. A small thrill went through her as she touched him. Not from infatuation, as had once been the case. It was more like the jagged heart-pounding awareness of being too close to a dangerous animal. His hand closed over hers, and he led her to the dance floor. His hand found the spot on her back where it had rested hundreds of times, and they began to dance.

  Lizzie danced a half pace out of step with the music. Twice she “accidentally” failed to follow Freddie’s lead, causing her in the first instance to step on his foot, and in the second to collide with another couple. Each time she laughed and apologized, while Freddie eked out false reassurances and picked up the step again.

  Lizzie had worried that it would be a fight to keep from falling into his smooth lead, allowing the music to carry her away as it had so often when they had danced. But, in fact, it was easy to do, knowing that with every step, she was fighting for her life. And for Tom’s.

  Freddie was putting on quite a show, doing all the things that he would have done if, in fact, he’d been dancing with Ria Thornborough.

  But still Lizzie could tell he was not convinced.

  When the music ended, he released her and gave her a bow. She saw irritation in his eyes as he straightened. “I don’t know when I’ve had a more charming dance partner.”

  �
�Mr. Hightower, you are too kind. You may yet win me over with all these compliments.”

  “You are not so easy to be won as that,” he said. “You are a fortress to be won. A prize. I intend to scale your walls.”

  He lifted her hand to his lips, his eyes meeting hers as he did so. The gesture took her back instantly to the night when Geoffrey had done the same. This time there was no joy. No breathlessness. Only the cold, hard knowledge that she was playing a most dangerous game.

  She was aware of heads turning, of people watching, whispering. “Perhaps I shall enjoy being won over,” she said with a flirtatious smile. Let them whisper, she thought. It can only help me. They think I am Ria, and I will beat Freddie at his game.

  From the corner of her eye, Lizzie could see that Geoffrey was among those who were watching them. She was surprised and shamefully happy to see that Lucinda was not with him. The moment Freddie kissed her hand, Geoffrey began stalking—actually stalking—toward them.

  “Might I have the next dance?” Geoffrey said. His words were civil, but the look he gave Freddie relayed something more akin to cold fury.

  Freddie did not appear inclined to fight this particular battle. He let go of Lizzie’s hand, saying easily, “Until the next time, then.” With a curt nod to Geoffrey, he turned and walked away.

  Instead of escorting Lizzie to the dance floor, however, Geoffrey led her out a set of French doors to a stone terrace. The cool breeze felt startlingly good after the heat of the ballroom and the exertion of her charade with Freddie.

  “Are we not going to dance?” It was not difficult to feign annoyance. Her feelings were in such chaos that she did not know how or what to think. Especially when Geoffrey was this close. Was he going to tell her about his engagement to Lucinda? She could not endure a discussion of Geoffrey’s wedding plans just now. Her heart was too fragile.

  “Ria, do you have any idea what you are doing?” Geoffrey said, practically biting out the words.