Rhonda Woodward (14 page)

Chapter Thirteen

After staying out in the garden for some time, Mariah finally returned to the house, still fighting tears.

Once inside Heaton, she pulled open the first door she came to and swiftly stepped into an antechamber. Shutting the door behind her, she leaned back against it, taking great gulping breaths. Several minutes passed before she felt her heart begin to beat normally.

“What am I going to do?” she said aloud.

Pushing away from the door, she scarcely noticed the elegant blue-and-cream room as she removed her coat and bonnet. Laying them on a chair, she began to pace the floor, her hands clenched together tightly.

Could anything be more utterly horrid than what had just happened? A fresh wave of embarrassment caused her to halt her pacing. She stood stock-still, cringing at the memory of the earl’s cold gaze searing into hers.

Fighting more tears, she tried to think clearly, to come up with a way to extricate herself from this awful predicament.

A thought suddenly presented itself. She ran back to the door and stepped into the hallway.

A footman walking down the hall turned at the sound of her call.

“Please, will you find my brother Mr. Thorncroft, and send him here to me?” She knew her voice sounded anxious, but that could not be helped.

“Right away, miss,” the young man said, then moved swiftly down the hall.

Mariah stepped back into the room and shut the door. Resuming her pacing, she waited impatiently for her brother to come to her.

There was nothing else for it, she thought with sudden resolution. She would have to tell Steven what had happened. He would, she prayed, be able to help her unravel this horrible tangle.

Finally she heard the door open. Relief flooded over her when her brother came in.

Looking concerned, Steven strode toward her. “Are you ill, Mariah? You look terribly pale.”

Reaching out, she took his hands, her anxious gaze seeking his. “Steven, the earl was walking near the arbor when we were there.”

He looked baffled. “Yes?”

Dropping his hands, she said in alarm, “Do not tell me you have forgotten what we were talking about.”

After another moment’s contemplation, understanding dawned on her brother’s features. “I hope you don’t believe he heard what you said. You called him an unabashed, unmitigated rakehell!” An ashen pall settled on his face.

“I know what I called him,” Mariah said through gritted teeth. “And I do not believe he heard—I
know
he did.”

Steven stood very still. “How?”

“Because I literally ran into him, and he told me my vehemence was completely unnecessary.” She could barely get the words out over the tears clogging her throat.

“I cannot believe this, Mariah! What are we going to do?”

Clasping her hands before her, Mariah met Steven’s distraught gaze. “As much as I know he would like to, the earl is much too well-mannered to ask us to leave. We will just have to convince Mama that we must go.”

Steven instantly nodded his agreement. “Her screams will be heard from one end of the house to the other,” he said with gallows humor.

Mariah shook her head despairingly. “I know. But if you are with me when I tell her, it might not be so bad. It really does not matter if she rolls on the floor kicking—we must leave.”

“Yes, we must.”

Hearing the flat disappointment in his voice, Mariah reached out and grasped his arm. “I am so sorry, Steven. I know how much you have been enjoying yourself.”

“Do not fret. I goaded you into saying what you did with my teasing. Besides, who could have imagined that he would be there at that moment?”

Mariah sighed, dejected. “How do we tell Mama?”

Steven thought for a moment. “She is resting right now, so I would not disturb her just yet. But this must be dealt with well before dinner. I will go up and direct the servants to start packing our trunks. We will stay at the inn in the village tonight and leave for home in the morning.”

Mariah nodded, grateful for his decisiveness. “Thank you, Steven. I will remain here for a little while before we go up to face Mama.”

“I understand. This room has the added appeal of not being much in use, does it not?”

She smiled a little at his understanding. “Yes, it does. I shall try to compose myself in the next little while.”

He leaned down and kissed her on the cheek. “Very good. I will meet you in your room later. Do not worry. Mama will see reason. But for now there is much to do.” With that, he swiftly left the room.

Moving wearily to the sofa, she sank into it with an intense feeling of despair. Now she would have to confess everything to Mama. As much as she loathed the thought of this, she could think of no other way to leave Heaton before the house party ended. Surely Mama would see that they had no choice.

Tears welled again, and a bitter shame scorched her.

Why had she said those dreadful things about the earl aloud? She knew she would never be able to forget the harsh look in his eyes—so different from the way he had looked at her before their kiss.

Her heart clenched in despair at the memory of that brief but intensely beautiful moment—now gone forever.

At the sound of the door opening, she turned, expecting to see that Steven had returned for some reason. To her surprise Lord Stothart stood in the doorway.

“Miss Thorncroft. I have found you at last. The footman said I would find you here.”

With a start, Mariah looked at him in dismay.

Shutting the door behind him, Lord Stothart approached. Stiffening, Mariah frowned at his cat-that-got-the-cream smile. She liked the fact that he had closed the door even less.

He was almost upon her before she stood up slowly and sent a pointed look at the closed door. “I shall leave you to enjoy the solitude of the salon, sir.”

“Actually, Miss Thorncroft, I desire a word with you. You will be pleased when you understand why I have bent the rules of propriety.” He chuckled, his second chin quivering like aspic.

A feeling of alarm spurred Mariah to take several steps to the side in an attempt to move past the grinning baron. He slid in front of her. Frowning, Mariah realized that unless she wished to walk on the sofa she would have to stay still for the nonce.

Remaining silent, she looked at him coldly with a brow raised in query.

Clearing his throat, he steepled his fingers together and pressed them to his lips. His eyes swept her figure in a furtive manner she found disgusting.

“Well then. I have been keeping my eye on you these last few days and have come to the conclusion that we will suit each other quite well. Normally I would approach your father first, but I decided there was no need to be so formal with people like—”

Watching the unattractive red flush at what he had almost said stain his cheeks, Mariah stared at him in astonishment, scarcely believing she had heard him aright.

Running a finger along the inside of his cravat, Lord Stothart swallowed hard before resuming his speech.

“That is to say, I shall call upon your father as soon as it is convenient, to work out the details of our betrothal.”

Mariah knew she was gaping at him, but she could not help it. Taking a step back, she felt the backs of her legs pressing against the sofa.

As he continued to send her that self-satisfied grin, she felt a searing anger and contempt suddenly rise up within her. She did not think that she was any more vain than other young women her age, but she wondered what nerve made this repulsive toad, title or no, think that he could aspire to her hand.

“Do you, perchance, consider what you have just said to be a proposal of marriage? If so, I must tell you that I decline your offer. Please step aside, sir.”

It was Lord Stothart’s turn to gape. His hands dropped limply to his side as he sputtered, his face turning an odd shade of purple.

“I cannot believe you are fully cognizant of the honor I am bestowing upon you, Miss Thorncroft. I will ignore your insulting behavior and suggest that you take on a more respectful tone toward me in the future.”

Enough!
Mariah thought, anger sparking in her eyes. Heedless of his bulk over her, Mariah pushed past Lord Stothart and headed for the door.

Within a few feet of the door handle, she felt his hot, fleshy fingers grab her upper arm.

Outraged, she tried to shake off his grasp as he swung her around to face him, placing himself in front of the door. Fury distorted his features, and if she had not been so angry, the look in his eyes might have frightened her.

“Let go of me! How dare you behave in such a boorish manner!”

Dropping her arm, he said, “And how dare you act as if you are too good to accept me. Are you so foolish that you believe you have the chance of a better offer? You may be an attractive chit, but without your dowry you are one step above a scullery maid. Who are your people? Where do you come from? Anyone would consider that I am being quite generous to overlook such flaws and offer you my family name. Yet you insult me,” Lord Stothart sneered, his tone scathing.

Mariah had never felt so deeply shocked. Could this be how the earl felt as well? After all, he and Lord Stothart had been friends since childhood. Perhaps beneath the thin veneer of highly polished politeness, all the earl’s guests thought as Lord Stothart and Lady Walgrave did—that anyone not born in their world must be a less worthy creature.
How sad and disturbing,
she thought. She dismissed her concern an instant later, for her immediate problem was Lord Stothart standing between her and the door.

Clasping her hands together, Mariah strove for composure. She said in a clear if unsteady tone, “My family name may not be as illustrious as yours, but
you
have nothing to recommend yourself to
me
.”

The anger that twisted his features caused her a jolt of fear. Swiftly, she tried to dart past him and reach the door again. He grabbed her wrist and jerked her body back around, pulling her against him.

As a feeling of horror swept over her, Mariah gasped for breath. “Stop! Let go of me at once!”

Ignoring her demand, Lord Stothart lowered his face to hers. Feeling almost ill with shock and revulsion, Mariah pummeled his shoulder with her free hand, shouting for him to stop. Desperately, she turned her face away from his.

“You think you’re too good for me,” he sneered as his fleshy lips began to press hard, damp kisses against her neck.

Feeling faint, Mariah fought for air as he squeezed her tighter.

“Stop!” She heard the panic in her own voice as if from a distance.

Still straining to keep her face turned away, Mariah suddenly heard the door open behind her.

“What the hell—”

Hearing the familiar voice, she felt heady relief flood over her.

The arms tightly embracing her abruptly loosened, and Mariah staggered back, putting several feet between her and the baron. Regaining her balance, she swiftly looked up to see the earl standing before them, a frown as black as thunder marring his brow.

Glancing back to Lord Stothart, Mariah saw his flushed, sweaty face, and another shudder of revulsion went through her body.

At the sight of the earl Lord Stothart’s eyes seemed to bulge from his head. “Stone!” he blustered, looking ashamed and defiant at once. “Miss Thorncroft and I were having a private conversation.”

Mariah gasped in outrage, and her gaze flew to the earl. It would be too horrible if he believed that she had willingly embraced Lord Stothart.

Hands clenched at his sides, the earl stepped forward and Lord Stothart took a quick step back.

“If I did not hesitate to distress Miss Thorncroft any further, you would now be naming your second, Stothart. As it stands, you will leave my home immediately.”

At the hard edge in the earl’s voice, Mariah quickly shifted her wide-eyed gaze to Lord Stothart.

He darted Mariah a contemptuous look before turning back to the earl. “Come now, Stone. Surely you are not going to let a nobody cause a rift in our friendship,” he said with a feigned laugh.

With a look of disgust, the earl slowly shook his head, drew back his right fist, and landed a fierce punch to Lord Stothart’s jaw.

Cringing at the sickening noise made by the contact, Mariah raised her hands to her face. “Oh my!” she gasped.

Lord Stothart stumbled backward, landing in a sprawl on the wing chair behind him.

“What friendship?” the earl said calmly. “Get out. Now.”

Clutching his chin, Lord Stothart scrambled to his feet. Mariah could not find any sympathy for the shock and pain on his face.

Without another word the dazed man scrambled past Mariah and the earl. He yanked the door shut behind him with a crash, and the noise reverberated through the room. Staring at the door, Mariah realized that her shaking hands were still on her cheeks and that her heart was pounding.

With great effort she lowered her hands and smoothed her skirts, aware of the earl’s eyes upon her.

“Are you all right, Miss Thorncroft?”

She marveled at the calm composure in his deep voice.

Looking up into his eyes, which expressed a combination of anger and concern, she said, “I think so, my lord. I . . . It happened so quickly. I cannot thank you enough—” To her mortification, her voice broke and unexpected tears choked her words.

An instant later she felt his strong arms come around her in a gentle embrace.

Unresisting, Mariah rested her head against his solid shoulder and shut her eyes to keep the tears from spilling.

“Do not thank me, my dear. I am ashamed that you were subjected to such ugliness in my home.”

Sensing the depth of his sincerity, Mariah felt soothed. She took a shuddering breath, and some of the fear and tension left her still-trembling body.

She stood silently in his light embrace, eyes closed, as his firm hand stroked her upper arm reassuringly. Soon the anxiety ebbed away as she allowed herself to sink trustingly against him. Thank goodness he had entered the room when he did! He had actually punched Lord Stothart—his friend—and demanded that he leave, she marveled.

Suddenly she became keenly aware of her cheek pressing against the exquisite fabric of his coat and the firm chest beneath it. The faint, heady scent of bay rum and tobacco teased her senses. She found it odd that even though the shock of Lord Stothart’s attack receded quickly, her heart had not slowed its quick pace.