The Irish Heiress

by Kaitlin O’Riley

  “Oh, Mara.” Foster hugged her closer. He couldn’t imagine loving her more than he did in that moment. Her self-sacrifice was astounding. This lovely woman would have spent her life alone in order to spare others.

  “Do you understand now why I said I couldn’t marry you?” she asked.

  “Yes, but now I’m not sure why you changed your mind and said you would.”

  She paused. “Do you still want to marry me, knowing that I could lose my mind?”

  “Yes.” He answered without a moment’s hesitation. “Of course.”

  Mara sat up and stared at him through the flickering candlelight. “You would willingly marry me, knowing I might become insane one day? Why on earth would you do such a thing?”

  “Because, Mara Reeves, I love you.” Foster felt as if he would burst with love for her. “And I will thankfully take any amount of time I can have with you, rather than have none at all.”

  “Oh, Foster. I love you so much.” She kissed him. “I’m touched that you would do that for me. But you don’t have to worry about my going insane after all.”

  “I don’t?”

  “You don’t. It seems I was mistaken. My mother was not mad. Not at all. She was a rather reckless and a most definitely selfish wife and mother, but there is no madness in my family.”

  “Well, I must admit, that is a relief. And the premonitions?” he asked.

  “Apparently the premonitions do run in my family. I went to visit my mother’s older sister. She told me that my great-grandmother had the gift of sight. It seems I take after her.” She gave him a rueful smile.

  “I think it’s magnificent.”

  “You won’t mind being married to a woman who gets occasional glimpses of future events?” Her voice held a note of apprehension.

  “Not at all. In fact, I think your skill could come in very handy sometimes.” He gave her a smile.

  She gave a little sigh of relief and kissed him again. “I love you, Foster Sheridan.”

  “And I love you.” He held her tighter. “Now are you willing to have lots of beautiful children with me?”

  “Nothing would make me happier.”

  They kissed for some time as her naked body entwined with his.

  “Mara?” he asked finally. “What about that other premonition you had? The one you had the night we met and the night you were with me? The one with the fire?”

  “I’m not sure what that means. I’ve had that vision four times now, and I’m no closer to knowing what it signifies. I don’t know how or when the fire happens. Something terrible happens to someone, but I don’t know whom. The only part of the premonition that gives me peace is knowing that you and I are safe and together at the end of it.”

  “I’m not certain what your visions mean either. But I’m here with you now and I will make sure you are safe and loved.” He kissed her again. Thinking of Mara’s safety, he was prompted to ask, “Mara, has my wife contacted you?”

  She gave him quite a surprised look. “Lady Sterling? Of course not! Why ever would she wish to speak to me?”

  “I’m not sure, but I have good reason to suspect that she found out that it’s you that I’ve been seeing. I had a feeling she might try to contact you in some way.” Foster supposed he’d been wrong about Rose coming to Ireland. Perhaps she’d regained her senses and changed her mind. He only had his hysterical housemaid’s word that Rose was heading to Ireland in the first place. Now he relaxed, knowing that she hadn’t troubled Mara.

  “Good heavens, I can’t imagine why your wife would wish to speak to me any more than I would wish to speak to her!” She shivered. “But what happens now, Foster?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “With us? What happens now?” she asked.

  “As soon as my marriage to Rose is annulled, we will get married. I thought we were clear on that,” he said with a laugh.

  “Yes, I know that, but . . .” Mara grew serious. “We have to tell my parents. If Phillip already knows about us, I cannot keep this from my family any longer. And I must return to London tomorrow. They are expecting me home.”

  “Then I shall go with you and we will speak to your parents together. I actually thought they would be here when I arrived. I was looking forward to meeting them and explaining my situation,” he said.

  “Thank you,” she said. “You’re wonderful.”

  “There’s no reason to thank me. I love you and I’m going to become a part of your family. Because they are important to you, they are important to me. There is no reason you should face them alone. I’m well aware of the scandalous position you are in because of me.” There was nothing he wouldn’t do for Mara to make her life easier or more perfect.

  “Then we shall both sail together tomorrow?” she asked.

  “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

  Mara settled back into his arms with a contented sigh. “This is so nice. I love that I don’t have to get dressed and go home. I’m already home.”

  “I love that too. Before too long we will be able to share the same house and the same bed, every single day and night. But for now, I will simply return to my room before dawn. We can’t have the servants gossiping about you.”

  Mara giggled and wrapped her arms around him. “What if I don’t let you go?”

  “Then your maid shall find a blissfully happy naked man in your bed come morning.” He kissed the tip of her pert little nose.

  “Poor Brighton! She would faint straightaway! I couldn’t do that to her.”

  “Then I will have to sneak out of here before she does.” Foster eased Mara over and positioned himself on top of her. “But in the meantime, there are still hours to go before dawn . . .”

  23

  Conflagrations

  The following afternoon Foster and Mara left Cashelmore Manor in separate carriages, as planned, to make the journey back to London. However, the ferry to Liverpool was unexpectedly delayed, forcing them to wait until next morning. Instead of traveling all the way back to Cashelmore, they decided to spend the night in Dublin and checked into an elegant little hotel called the Dublin House.

  Mara had her own room on the second floor overlooking the River Liffey, and Brighton was in a small room downstairs. And of course, Foster was in a room on the floor below her. Appearances had to be maintained.

  Mara had never been so joyful, and she hoped her parents would be happy for her too. Bringing home a married man would not make them especially proud of her, but Mara believed that once they knew all the circumstances they would not be averse to her marrying Foster. At least she hoped so.

  After having supper in her hotel room, Mara settled down to read a book about the gift of sight, which Foster had bought for her. It seemed to her somewhat incredible that for a girl who spent her life in a bookshop, she had never read one book on the subject! Perhaps she had been too afraid of what she might find out. Foster had suggested that the more she knew about the subject, the less frightened of it she would be. He had a good point. She had avoided it for too long.

  Speaking to her aunt Deirdre had helped immeasurably as well. Deirdre had enabled her to see that her visions were nothing to fear, and were, in fact, a point of pride in their family. Mara recalled that Uncle Jeffrey had proposed that she meet with someone who was well versed in the field of visions, to learn more about them. Perhaps she would take him up on his offer.

  These visions had baffled her for her entire life. Why did she have them? Why did they occur at random moments? Why did she not always know what they meant? Why was she suddenly having reoccurring premonitions? Or rather, one premonition in particular.

  The vision of the fire haunted her. What did it mean? When would it come to pass? The only element of that vision of which she was certain was Foster. From the moment she first had that premonition, there was no doubt in her mind that she and Foster were destined to be together. That fact had only been reinforced last night when Foster arrived at Cashelmore Manor.

&nb
sp; Oh, how she loved him! And now she would be able to be his wife! They had a true future together. They could have a family and—

  A soft knock on the door caught her attention and she set down the book, her heart skipping a beat. It had to be Foster! Even though they both knew he shouldn’t take such a risk as to come visit her while they were staying at a hotel, Mara would gladly welcome him into her room anyway. She simply could not resist him. Before she went to the door, she grabbed her shawl and wrapped it around her shoulders to cover her nightgown.

  To her surprise, a woman stood before her. A woman she had definitely seen once before.

  “Can I help you?” Mara asked, feeling somewhat confused as she tried to reconcile what this strange person was doing outside her hotel room.

  The woman stared at her quite intently. “Do you recognize me?” she asked.

  Mara nodded. “Yes, I believe we met each other at Hamilton’s Book Shoppe in London.”

  No, she had not forgotten the odd lady who wandered into the shop that afternoon. The woman had given Mara the impression that she was ill. Then she had appeared in Mara’s premonition later that day. What on earth was this woman doing in Dublin, at the same inn where Mara was staying? It was very peculiar and more than a coincidence that they should be there at the same time. She suddenly had a very bad feeling. Mara’s first instinct was to close the door to shut her out, but the woman stopped her with what she said next.

  “I learned your name, Lady Mara Reeves, that day at the bookshop. But I don’t believe I gave you my name. It was most ill-mannered of me.” She paused dramatically before stating in an imperious tone, “I am Rose Sheridan, the Countess of Sterling.”

  Mara gasped and her heart almost stopped completely. Good heavens! She was Foster’s wife! This woman was Foster’s wife! No wonder she had looked at Mara so fixedly. Mara fervently wished the floor would somehow open up and swallow her whole. She’d never felt so mortified in her entire life.

  “May I come in and speak to you for a moment, Lady Mara?” Rose Sheridan asked.

  Unable to form a coherent sentence, Mara nodded obediently and opened the door a little wider to let the woman into her room. Rose stepped slowly inside and Mara closed the door behind them. Taking a shaky breath, she turned to face Foster’s wife.

  “I have a feeling that you’re wondering why I am here . . .” Rose said.

  Mara remained silent. She knew exactly why Rose was there: to confront the other woman. Mara’s face burned with shame knowing that she was the other woman. She stared at Rose Sheridan with a mixture of dread and fascination.

  Foster’s wife was rail thin and her cold blue eyes glittered with anger. She too was wearing only her nightclothes, a white cotton gown and a richly quilted scarlet robe. Her thick brown hair fell in loose waves around shoulders, making her appear much younger than she had that afternoon in the bookshop. Idly Mara wondered how old she was. Judging from what Foster had told her, she figured the woman couldn’t even be thirty years old yet. However, Rose Sheridan had appeared far older than that, the afternoon at the bookshop. Her manners and gestures made her seem like an elderly woman.

  With a brittle laugh, Rose began to explain. “Actually, I am wondering what I’m doing here. Coming to see you seemed like a good idea a few moments ago back in my room. When I learned that you had checked into this hotel, the very hotel I was staying in myself, I thought, well, I must pay my respects to the kind bookshop lady. Why not just run down the hall and say hello to her right now? And so here I am.”

  Mara still had not said a word. For what could she say? She had been caught. Found out. She was having a torrid affair with this woman’s husband. There was no justification for it, however Mara tried to rationalize it. It had been easier to ignore the fact that Foster was married before his wife walked into her room. But now . . . Now Mara had no choice but to face up to the consequences of her shameful actions. She knew what she had done.

  And she was most definitely in the wrong.

  “So here I am,” Rose repeated. “Although now I think I may have made a terrible mistake in coming here. Honestly, what does one say upon confronting her husband’s mistress?” Rose eyed her closely, a satisfied smile on her face.

  Mara did not answer. She thought for a moment about flinging the door open and running down the corridor and down the stairs to Foster’s room. How she wished he would come to her right now! What was she to say to this woman?

  “You see, I’ve never actually met one of Foster’s mistresses before, so I’ve no practice at this. And if you consider the number of mistresses Foster has had over the years, one would think I would be better prepared to greet them,” Rose went on quite amiably, as if she were chatting with a good friend. Yet there was an ugly undertone to everything she said.

  Then Rose Sheridan paused. “Please, do come sit down with me for a moment, won’t you, Lady Mara? We shall discuss this situation like the ladies we are.” She moved to one of the two matching chairs by the window and sat down.

  Every instinct within Mara screamed for her to flee the room. Fighting against her desire to leave, Mara made her way to the matching chair near Foster’s wife. A small table stood between the two chairs, where a pretty kerosene lamp gave off a warm glow.

  “There we go.” Rose praised her in a condescending tone, her mouth twisted in a scornful grimace. “It’s so lovely we can discuss this as ladies. Although it isn’t very ladylike of you to be the mistress of a married man, now is it?”

  “No, it isn’t,” Mara finally managed to choke out. “I am truly sorry.”

  “You are sorry. Somehow I doubt that.” Rose shook her head, her lips in a sneer. “I must admit you were quite a surprise when I first met you. You were not what I was picturing in the least. Why, you’re so sweet and innocent-looking! You look like a fine little china doll, if you don’t mind my saying so. You’re not his usual type at all. Foster’s tastes usually run toward actresses and dancers. You know, flashy and tawdry types.” She flashed a smug grin. “Surely you didn’t think you were his first mistress, did you, my dear? Or his last?”

  A tight knot formed in the pit of Mara’s stomach. Of course, she assumed that Foster had been with other women before he met her. Although she had never really given much thought to the type of woman he had associated with, there was something quite vindictive in the way that Rose was insinuating that Mara was just like all the others.

  Was she just like all the others? Or was she worse? For Mara knew better than to take up with a married man, yet she did it anyway. In spite of all she had been taught, she flouted the conventions she had been raised with.

  Rose ignored Mara’s lack of response and continued on. “Of course, it seems Foster has you believing that he’s going to marry you . . . You weren’t foolish enough to believe it, were you, my dear? For certainly you know that he can’t marry you. Not while he’s still married to me!” Rose’s brittle laughed echoed in the room as she waved her hand airily. “I am his wife. You do realize that, don’t you?”

  Mara nodded. Yes, she was quite aware of the fact that Foster’s wife was sitting there with her. For a moment Mara tried to imagine Rose when she was younger, back when she and Foster first married. She wondered what had happened in Rose’s life to make her so spiteful and unhappy, but Mara would not rise to the bait Rose was giving her. In this situation, the less Mara said, the better. But it didn’t stop her from wishing frantically for Foster to arrive.

  Rose grew quiet. Mara raised her eyes to look at her, then glanced away. For what seemed like an eternity they both sat in an uncomfortable silence.

  “Foster is not going to get our marriage annulled,” Rose announced at last.

  “Why not?” Mara couldn’t help but ask, even though she knew that Rose was wrong. Of course Foster was getting the annulment! They’d discussed it. He’d already started the legal proceedings with his solicitor. She believed him.

  “Because, my sweet Lady Mara, if he continues on the pat
h of obtaining an annulment, I will go to the newspapers and give them your name as the woman who is trying to steal my husband. Imagine the lurid stories they would print! Your name would be known throughout the country. You would become notorious and be branded as a scarlet woman. Your reputation and your life would be forever ruined.” She paused, leaning in toward Mara, and hissed, “I have the power to ruin you.”

  Oh, God, Rose Sheridan was right!

  Mara felt panic rise within her. Foster’s wife was right. She could swiftly and easily destroy Mara’s world. It was too awful to contemplate. When she’d embarked on this affair with Foster, she’d been so certain that they were meant to be that she went against all she knew to be right and brushed aside the consequences. In essence, Mara hadn’t believed she had a future. What difference would having an affair with a married man have made when she was locked away for lunacy? But now, now that she and Foster were to marry and have children, things were quite different. Mara had the future to think of.

  “Now, is that what you wish for, my dear? To become a social pariah? To humiliate your family? Have you given any thought to them? Is that want you truly want?”

  “No.” The word bubbled out of Mara’s mouth of its own volition. She hadn’t thought about her family at all, and now her conscience pricked her.

  “I didn’t think so . . .” Rose grinned in false sympathy. “I wouldn’t think you bargained on that when you began your tawdry affair with my husband.” She let out a weary sigh. “It’s not fair, is it? You and Foster are both committing a sin, yet it’s always the woman who gets blamed, isn’t it? The men don’t have to worry about their reputations at all. Nothing ever happens to the men.”

  Mara held her breath and listened.

  “But the women! Oh, the women take all the risks. In life, we carry all the burdens and all the shame and all the ridicule. We’re the ones who are ruined. We are the ones who have to bear the illegitimate children. We are the ones who are left alone to shoulder all the heartbreak while the men just carry on their merry way. Their lives don’t change. They don’t become ostracized. They don’t get branded as loose, scarlet women. No, not at all. The men become dashing scoundrels and charming rogues and are considered daring and exciting.” She shook her head ruefully. “No, the women suffer all the negative consequences.”