An Heiress at Heart (39 page)

Lady Thornborough? Grandmamma?
Lizzie no longer knew how to refer to her.

James gave her a friendly squeeze. “I’ll wait. In the meantime, how about we play a little duet?”

Lizzie threw a dark look at the ivories that had
seemed so comforting a short while ago. “Do not start nagging me again about this cursed piano.”

“Just one,” James urged. “One of those easy little duets we used to play to cheer us up whenever we were sad.”

“Duets?” Lizzie had no idea what James was talking about. Ria never mentioned playing the piano with James. She sniffled and wiped her eyes again, trying to clear away the fog of grief so she could think.

“Our favorite was one of those Brahms lullabies, remember?” He seemed so sincere, and hurt almost, that she had forgotten.

“Of course,” she murmured faintly. “But I have no heart to play just now.”

Despite the fact that she was refusing, her answer seemed to satisfy James immensely. “That’s all right, my dear,” he said with a smile in his eyes. “We’ll do it another time.”

*

Geoffrey let his mare run the last quarter mile to the house. The animal stretched out beneath him, glad to be given free rein, knowing her bed and meal were close at hand.

Geoffrey was glad to concentrate wholly on the rhythmic movements of the horse as trees swept past him in a blur. This, at least, was the advantage of his new station in life. He had a stable full of fine horses, and they were only one of the many pleasant diversions available to him.

He was going to need every possible distraction in order to forget Lizzie. So far it had been impossible to
keep her out of his thoughts. She was with him night and day, a dull ache in his heart he could find no way to assuage.

The worst of it was, of course, that she might never be entirely out of his life. Lizzie seemed to have won a genuine affection from Lady Thornborough during her months of masquerading as Ria. If the old woman became convinced that Lizzie was indeed a Thornborough, she might well accept Lizzie into the family. Once Lizzie told her what had happened to Ria, Lady Thornborough might be desperate to keep her only surviving grandchild, despite the trick Lizzie had played on her.

If that were the case, they would be bound to meet from time to time, especially during the season. He already knew that every time he saw her, he would remember afresh the way he had once loved her. He’d trusted her, and she’d repaid that trust with lies. Why had she not come to him? Why had she not trusted him enough to tell him the truth?

Whether or not he ever saw her again, one thing was certain. She was seared on his heart forever. He could only hope for the years to lessen its sting, as a scar might fade with time.

He prayed that God would forgive him, both for what he had done and for what he had been fully prepared to do. He knew dozens upon dozens of Bible verses about God’s loving kindness and mercy; yet he found it hard to believe any of them just now. And when it came to forgiving others, he’d discovered, to his mortification, that it was a far easier thing to preach than to practice.

He had received no news from Rosewood in the three days since he had left there, leading him to assume
that Lady Thornborough was still in London and Lizzie had not yet been able to speak with her. He had no doubt that once the old woman was apprised of the state of things, there would be an uproar that all of England would hear.

His mare slowed to a gentle trot as they approached the main entrance of his manor house. A groom stood at the ready as Geoffrey brought the horse to a halt. Geoffrey dismounted and handed over the reins.

“There is a guest waiting for you, sir,” the groom informed him.

“A guest?” A surge of dread mingled obstinately with hope. If Lizzie had come here…

But a quick glance around the courtyard confirmed there were no additional carriages. The guest had arrived on horseback, and must therefore be a man. “Who is this guest?”

“Mr. James Simpson, sir.”

Geoffrey actually swore under his breath. He saw the groom’s eyebrows raise a fraction, but he didn’t care. Save Elizabeth Rose Poole, James was positively the last person Geoffrey wanted to see right now. No, that wasn’t true. He wanted to see Lizzie just as fervently as he despised her—more proof that he was a senseless fool. He wiped the sweat from his brow and took the steps to the front door.

James had made himself comfortable in the study. Geoffrey found him seated in one of the overstuffed chairs, his dusty boots propped carelessly on a velvet footstool. James had also helped himself to the brandy. He lifted his glass as Geoffrey entered. “There you are. I’ve been waiting for ages.”

Geoffrey tossed his riding coat on a chair and poured a glass of water from one of the decanters on the wooden sideboard. With a quick nod to the glass in James’s hand, he said, “I trust my brandy has made the waiting worth your while.”

James tipped the last drops of amber liquid into his mouth and set the glass on a side table with an air of satisfaction. “Well, it certainly took some of the boredom out of it.”

“Why are you here, James?” Geoffrey sank wearily into the chair next to the one James occupied.

James regarded him with a touch of amusement. “I see we’ve decided to dispense with formalities.”

Geoffrey leaned his head back on the chair and rubbed his eyes. Already fatigued from lack of sleep, he’d been brought to near exhaustion by his long ride. He was in no mood for sparring. “You always said you hated standing on ceremony.”

“Yes, Ceremony hates it when you stand on him,” James quipped.

Geoffrey turned his head just enough to shoot him a warning glare.

James threw up his hands in surrender. “All right, I will get to the point. I’ve come to talk to you about Ria.”

To hear Ria’s name spoken aloud—a woman whose life had ended so tragically, only to be dishonored by Lizzie’s deception—raised all of Geoffrey’s anger afresh. He made up his mind he was not going to aid her lies in any way. “Ria is dead.” He spoke the words forcefully, expecting James to recoil in shock.

A look of genuine sorrow crossed James’s face, but not surprise. “I was afraid of that.”

“Why?” Geoffrey sat up. “What do you know about this?”

“I don’t really
know
anything,” James replied. “I have only suspicions. Perhaps you should tell me what you know first.”

Geoffrey was about to protest, but he held his peace when he saw that James was not playing games. His look held a gravity that Geoffrey was sure he’d never seen in the man before.

“Let’s begin with your statement that Ria is dead,” James prompted. “I had been holding out hope for a different answer. I assume the woman I have been calling Ria for these past few months is, in fact, someone else?”

“You assume nothing! You know it!” Geoffrey stood up and towered threateningly over James. “Don’t deny it. How long have you known? Since the night that bastard Hightower made his lewd insinuations?”

James raised his hands in a mildly defensive gesture. “Let’s discuss this rationally. Shouting will not help.”

Geoffrey took several deep breaths and curbed his desire to throttle the man. “Very well.”

James sat back in his chair. “The truth is, I had my suspicions before that conversation with Freddie. I grew up with Ria; we were as close as any brother and sister could be. This woman who arrived from Australia knew many things that only Ria could have known. And yet something about her was not right. Or more correctly, not Ria.”

“Why didn’t you confront her about this?” Geoffrey tried in vain to curb his frustration. “Why did you allow her to continue this charade?”

“I had no real proof,” James said reasonably. “I
was not about to trouble my aunt until I had something concrete—especially since I had no answer as to where the real Ria was. I wanted to find that out first. I was, in fact, on the verge of asking this woman straight out who she was—confidentially, of course. That was one of the reasons I came to Rosewood. But it seems you already made the discovery. Please, tell me what has happened.”

This explanation appeased Geoffrey somewhat. He could see some sense in it. He sat down, but did not speak right away. He took several moments to formulate what he would say. “The last night I was at Rosewood, I… borrowed a book of hers.” Nothing would induce him to give the details surrounding his “borrowing” the book. James had undoubtedly drawn his own conclusions about the two of them anyway. He wished James could have acted sooner, before he’d made such a complete idiot of himself with Lizzie.

“Go on,” James said.

Geoffrey told James about discovering the letter from Tom, and how he had confronted Lizzie the next day. He related her explanation of who she was and why she had been perpetrating this deception. “It’s preposterous, of course,” he finished.

“Why do you say that?”

“It’s obvious!” Geoffrey fairly shouted. “Apart from everything else, she claimed she was looking for letters that would confirm she is Sir Herbert’s illegitimate daughter. Conveniently, however, she was unable to produce such letters. She claims she found them, but they proved nothing.”

“What did you do then?” James asked.

“I insisted that she tell Lady Thornborough who she was. I made it clear that if she did not, I would expose her and possibly bring action against her.”

“She agreed to this?”

“She has no choice!”

“I don’t know about that,” James countered. “Given her physical similarity to Ria, I believe her story that she is related to us. As we are a proud and somewhat belligerent family, I would have expected more fight from her. Some protest, perhaps.”

“Oh, there was fight in her.” Geoffrey’s exasperation rose as he recalled her vehement words. “She—” He shook his head. Even now he could hardly believe it.

“She what?” James prodded.

He would persist, Geoffrey thought with irritation. “She quoted scripture at me.” As he spoke, he gave James a look that virtually dared him to make a joke of it.

“Easy, my friend. I know you are upset.” James rubbed his chin in contemplation. “Don’t tell me, let me guess. It was something about ‘casting the first stone.’ ”

Geoffrey looked at him, incredulous. “How on earth did you guess that?”

“My dear Geoffrey, it’s a personal favorite of mine.”

Seeing that Geoffrey’s self-control was about to evaporate, James moved swiftly to the sideboard and poured them each a brandy. He brought the glasses over and handed one to Geoffrey. “We are both facing great losses, my friend,” he said, his voice now serious. “I have grown fond of this Lizzie Poole, but I grieve for my dear Ria. My aunt will take all of this very hard. And you—well, you feel betrayed by someone you were beginning to care for very much.”

Geoffrey was about to utter a sharp denial of this, but James lifted up a hand to stop him.

His expression was warm and compassionate. “Geoffrey, I believe you and I need to discuss, in earnest, what should be done.”

                                                          
Chapter 37

T
he hands on the clock stubbornly refused to pick up their pace, despite the multitude of times Lizzie checked it. And there was still one more day before Lady Thornborough’s return. These days of waiting had been interminable, spurring Lizzie’s anxiety to have everything out in the open once and for all. She felt like a condemned prisoner who’s decided it’s better to face the ax than to remain in its dread.

She did not even have James to distract her. He had left the house at an uncharacteristically early hour, leaving a message that he had estate business to attend to and would return in time for tea.

Lizzie was so wrapped up in her thoughts that she never heard the approach of a horse on the front drive. She was surprised when the parlor maid entered with news that a guest was downstairs, asking for her. “Who is it?” she asked.

The maid held out a silver tray, and Lizzie read the card that was upon it.
Mr. Frederick Hightower.

Lizzie started up from her chair, panic rising. She could not see him alone. She knew what he was capable of. She had to avoid that at all costs. “I cannot receive him without James or Lady Thornborough,” she said. “It would not be proper. Please inform the gentleman that there is no one at home.”

“Too late for that,” Freddie said from the doorway. “I took the impertinent liberty of showing myself up.” He gave a short, dignified bow, which Lizzie knew was primarily for the benefit of the maid. “I hope, Mrs. Somerville, that you will forgive my gross lack of manners. But it is imperative that I speak with you.”

From the moment he had first approached her at Lord Beauchamp’s ball, Freddie had always put an odd inflection on her name, and today was no different. And as before, it only added to her irritation. “I cannot imagine what urgent matters we would have to discuss.”

With a significant look at the maid, who was still befuddled by this breach of protocol, Freddie said, “It is a matter of great delicacy.”

“Very well,” she said. She had been playing the part of Ria for several months now. She could continue on for another hour or so, despite anything he might try. However, she would make sure they were not left alone. She addressed the maid. “Jane, will you bring up tea?”