An Heiress at Heart (8 page)

W
illiam was not there.

The only Somerville present was Geoffrey. He stood alone by the fireplace, in exactly the same position as when she had first seen him. He was looking at her now with a tightly guarded intensity, reminding Lizzie of a banked fire that requires scant fuel to become a blaze. With great effort, she turned her eyes from his and scanned the parlor again.

She had been barely conscious the last time she’d been in this room. Now, despite her preoccupations, she could appreciate how lovely it was. A large vase of roses sat on the round tea table in the center of the room, and Lizzie recalled how the scent of roses had been one of her first memories upon regaining consciousness here. Beyond the tea table, Lady Thornborough was seated on the sofa, and James was draped lazily across a wing-backed chair. Lizzie’s heart eased a little at the sight of them—another sign, perhaps, that she was beginning to think of them as family.

But where was William?

“Ria,” Lady Thornborough said, “there you are at last.”

“I’m sorry to have kept you waiting, Grandmamma.”

James rose and crossed the room to give her a kiss on the cheek. “Well, cousin, we never knew you to be on time. It’s no more than we expected.”

A smile rose naturally to her lips. “Whom do you suppose I learned that from?”

James grinned. “I can’t imagine.”

Geoffrey approached and gave her a stiff, somewhat formal bow. “I am happy to see you fully recovered… Ria.” Again Lizzie had the sensation that he was working to hold some part of himself in check. “I confess it seems strange to address you by your Christian name upon our first meeting.”

“Ah,” said James, “but it is not really your first meeting, is it?”

No, it was not their first meeting. Geoffrey had picked her up off the street, bruised and bloody, before he even had an inkling of who she was. Or rather, who she was
supposed
to be. “You must call me Ria, of course,” she said. “We are family, are we not?” Lizzie truly wished—as Ria herself had done—to gain his good opinion, to somehow repair the breach. She was well aware that it would not be easy. She held out her hand, hoping her smile wasn’t wavering too much.

Geoffrey’s touch was pleasant, immediately bringing Lizzie’s mind back to the moment he’d taken her into his arms. The memory sent heat to her cheeks. She had an unsettling notion she might forever experience that visceral memory when she was near him. His expression
was cold, however, and that, too, she had witnessed at their first meeting.

From this close vantage point Lizzie was struck once again by the resemblance between Geoffrey and Edward. However, she would never have imagined Geoffrey was the younger of the two. He was far more reserved than Edward had been.

Edward had always displayed the easy grace and fine manners of a man raised in the best circles and used to making friends easily. But he was also a man unbridled, looking for adventure, discontented by the strict rules of society and welcoming to members of any class if they were honest and kind. His acceptance of Lizzie, despite her disgraced past, had been proof of that. It had made him a dear friend.

Geoffrey was showing her no friendliness, even though he believed her to be his brother’s widow. He might well be bitter about Edward’s departure from England on account of her. And what would he do if he knew she was
not
Ria? What if he truly knew the shameful woman she was? Lizzie’s sins were far greater than anything Ria had done. She could only imagine once more that banked fire becoming a blaze and somehow destroying her utterly.

The complete subjugation of her life into Ria’s was the only possible course. As Ria, she might at least find a way to make peace with this man. That would be her goal. She found she wanted to win this man’s respect. Only as Ria did she have a chance of making that happen.

*

She is lovely,
Geoffrey thought. He could not deny it. Her gray gown, supposedly the dress of a young widow,
only served to accentuate her violet-blue eyes. The area around the cut on her forehead was still bruised and purple, but even that could not detract from her beauty.

Her skin was clear, but not pale. She had spent time in the sun. He dropped his eyes to inspect the cool hand in his. It was softer now than when he’d first held it. The calluses had begun to fade as Ria had been given time to rest and heal.

Her polite and collected demeanor was a sharp contrast to the last time he had seen her, barely conscious and flushed with fever.

She seemed to be working hard to make a good impression on him. “I must thank you for what you did for me.” She smiled at him, no doubt attempting to win him over with her beauty, as she had done with Edward.

He steeled himself against its effects. He was not so easily taken in as his brother. He said, “You wish to thank me for running you over?”

“I was at fault, since I walked into your path,” she responded with self-composure. “I’m grateful that you acted as swiftly as you did.”

There was strength behind those riveting eyes—something Geoffrey certainly had not anticipated. He had a sudden flash of understanding of why his brother left everything behind to be with her. He was stunned as the thought came, unbidden, that he, too, might follow those eyes halfway around the world and not regret it.

Geoffrey quelled the thought with a stern reminder to himself of the hard facts. Edward had allowed his passions to get the better of him, and Ria had been just as guilty for leading him to do it. Perhaps they had been enthralled with the idea of relinquishing all else for the
sake of “true love.” In truth, what they had left behind were honor and propriety, and they had gained nothing for it but heartache and disaster. Geoffrey had many shortcomings, as he was well aware; but falling prey to foolish fancies was not one of them. He would not allow it to be.

He let go of her hand and stepped back.

Ria must have perceived the coldness behind his withdrawal. Undaunted, she straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin. He was utterly unprepared for what she said next. “William must still be very angry, I suppose.”

Geoffrey took a sharp intake of breath. “I beg your pardon?”

“I hope he is not still bitter about what happened between us. I believe he knew as well as I that we would not be happy together. No doubt he is glad he married Annabel Harris instead.”

Geoffrey stared at her.

Evidently she misunderstood the reason for his stunned expression. She said, “I know about the marriage. I read about it in the society columns.”

Geoffrey threw a confused look at Lady Thornborough. “Did you not tell her what happened?”

“I thought it better to wait until today,” she replied. “Ria has been so frail. I thought the news could wait until we were all together.”

Ria looked back and forth between them. “What have you not told me?”

Lady Thornborough put a handkerchief delicately up to one eye. Even James cleared his throat and looked away.

Geoffrey knew it was his duty to say it. “William is
dead, Ria. He died last summer of scarlet fever. I suppose you missed that tidbit in the society columns.”

Ria moaned softly, bringing a hand to her chest. The apparent depth of her grief was more than Geoffrey would have expected, given her cavalier treatment of William all those years ago. Perhaps she was realizing that by not returning to England sooner, she and Edward had given up the opportunity for a grand title.

She swayed a little. Afraid she might faint, Geoffrey stepped forward and took her arm in his. Instantly he regretted the move. She was too close to him now, her nearness more powerful than he could have imagined. Her warmth radiated through the silk sleeve of her dress and spread like a thunderbolt through his body. Her bowed head came just to the level of his chin, and he found himself taking in the gleam of her blond curls. She smelled of fresh roses—a scent he had never found intoxicating until now.

Lady Thornborough held out a hand. “Come and sit down, Ria. You must be mindful of your health.”

Geoffrey knew he should help Ria to the sofa, but he found himself unable to move.

James stepped forward and gently took hold of Ria’s free arm. “Please. Allow me.”

Ria released her hold on Geoffrey. As she moved away from him, all the warmth seemed to go with her, leaving him chilled and yet somehow freeing up his mind to work again.

He watched as James led Ria across the room to join Lady Thornborough. Even now, in a subdued mood, she moved with a grace that did not appear conscious or affected. He had always pictured Ria as a silly and
headstrong girl. She had, after all, thrown away the opportunity to become a baroness in order to run away with a man whose prospects were far from certain. It was difficult to match that image with the woman in front of him. Perhaps maturity had been forced upon her by the events that had followed.

On the other hand, he reminded himself with a mental shake, given the wildly unorthodox way she’d arrived on Lady Thornborough’s doorstep, perhaps she was not so changed after all.

When Ria was seated, she asked, “What has become of Annabel?”

“My sister-in-law preceded her husband in death by about twelve hours,” Geoffrey said uncompromisingly. He’d been hit hard by these deaths, and he saw no point in trying to soften the blow for Ria.

Her mouth fell open in shock. “William
and
Annabel are dead?”

Lady Thornborough patted her hand. “I knew you would take the news hard, my dear. That is why we waited.”

“William and Annabel are dead,” Ria repeated quietly, as if trying to convince herself of the truth of it. She looked at Geoffrey, understanding dawning in her eyes. “
You
are Lord Somerville.”

“That’s right, cousin,” James said. “He has been so for several months now.”

“Several months?” Ria’s eyes narrowed. “How could that be? You did not yet know what happened to Edward.”

“It was a conundrum,” Geoffrey acknowledged, unable to keep the sarcasm from his voice. “What to do about a missing baron? A man whom no one has seen nor
heard from in ten years? A man who by all accounts was dead. What do you suppose I should have done?”

“Did you not even attempt to find him—to find
us
?”

“Would you like me to give you a detailed account of the time and money we spent searching for you? Shall I describe each painful step we took, searching towns, cities, and ships’ manifests? Or will you have the decency to spare me on this point?”

“If only we had known,” Ria said, her expression wavering between anger and compassion.

“You most certainly would have,” Geoffrey returned, “
if
we had known where you were.”

Ria dropped her eyes. “Yes, I suppose that’s true.” Her tone did not match the affirmation of her words.

“Do you doubt me?” Geoffrey demanded, irritated at being put on the defensive. After the hell he’d been through, he was not about to let this woman judge him. “Do you think I wanted this? Do you think I take pleasure in the title? I most certainly do not.”

“That much is evident,” James said. “I must say you are taking entirely too slowly to the benefits of your position.”

Geoffrey ignored James’s attempt to lighten the situation. He kept his gaze squarely on Ria. “Edward was already dead in the eyes of the law. Upon William’s demise, there was nothing left to do but to make it official. It is not what I would have wished. But it was what I had to do. Duty comes first. You would benefit by remembering that in future.”

Ria’s mouth set in grim determination. “I am fully aware of my duty. That is why I am here.”

“Then do it,” he snapped. After all the years that had
passed without knowing what had happened to Edward, he thought he would go mad if he had to wait even one hour longer. “Tell us where you’ve been, and what has brought about Edward’s death. And why, in all this time, you never
once
saw fit to contact us.”

                                                          
Chapter 8

R
ia’s gaze was locked on him now. The smiles she had given him earlier had vanished.

James dropped into the wingback chair. “I do believe Ria is willing to tell us everything, Geoffrey, if we will give her the opportunity.” He leaned forward and propped his chin on his hands, looking at Ria as though he were at the theater and an exciting play was about to begin.

Lady Thornborough motioned Geoffrey to another chair. “May I suggest that you sit down as well, Lord Somerville? We must allow cooler heads to prevail.”

She phrased it as a request, but Geoffrey did not miss the implied command. This was a woman who was used to being obeyed—especially in her own home. Geoffrey did his best to suppress his agitation as he moved to the chair she indicated. He chided himself for allowing his anger to overrun the normally charitable aspects of his nature. Patience was a virtue, but the high demands of the previous weeks had caused him to run short on supply.

“I will begin with your question, Geoffrey,” Ria said, her voice steady. “You asked why we didn’t contact you. But we had. Edward and I did send word from Scotland that we were married.”