Secret Heiress (6 page)

‘Come with me for a few minutes. I wish to speak with you.'

‘Don't you listen to him, Miss Bancroft. He is a rogue and not to be trusted,' the coachman cried and took a step towards her, stopping as the gun pointed in his direction once more.

‘I mean you no harm.' The masked man bent down, offering his hand, then glanced at the coachman. ‘Wait for your passenger, man, and do not try to be a hero—or you will regret it. Remember, a wild shot might harm the young lady.' He barked the words at the coachman, his pistol still aimed in his direction. ‘If you do anything foolish, your wife will be a widow this night.'

‘Please do as he asks. I am not afraid,' Eliza instructed.

She gave the highwayman her hand. He grasped her arm and she clutched his saddle, instinctively jumping as he hauled her up before him.

‘Well done,' he murmured in an approving tone that sent tingles down her spine. ‘You are quite safe. I do not kill women and children.'

Eliza shivered. At first she had been terrified by the sight of a masked, armed man, but for some unaccountable reason her fear had gone as he rode with her into the trees.

They travelled only far enough to be out of sight of the coachman before he halted. He dismounted and held out his arms. She slid down into them. For a moment he held her and she was aware of the pleasant smell of soap and a breath of cologne. He was very clean for a common highwayman.

‘Well, sir,' Eliza said, her heart beating very fast, ‘what have you to say to me that could not be said in front of the coachman?'

‘Why are you travelling in that devil's carriage?' he demanded. ‘Do you have any idea what kind of a man he is? Whatever promises he has made you are likely to prove your downfall.'

‘The marquis has made me no promises. I have never met him. I am on my way to Bath, where I am to be employed by Lady Sarah Manners.'

The highwayman stared at her. Eliza felt a start of surprise as she noticed how blue his eyes were.

‘Is that the truth?'

‘Why should I lie to you?'

‘Where did you get this ring?' He took her ring from
his pocket, looking at the inscription inside for a moment before handing it to her. ‘What does it say?'

‘Love means more. Why do you ask?'

‘I have seen a similar ring before.'

Eliza's heart raced. ‘I believe it was my birth mother's ring. I never knew her, but my mama found it beneath my clothes when I was given to her as a baby.' Her eyes entreated him. ‘Where have you seen a ring like mine?'

‘I took it from someone in a card game.' He reached for her purse in his pocket, returning it to her. ‘I am not sure whether I should believe you, Miss Bancroft, but I do not rob young ladies who have no more than a few coins in their purse.'

‘Thank you.' Her eyes were on his face. The mask covered most of it, but something about the set of his chin seemed familiar, as did the cologne he wore. She was certain she knew him. ‘Why were you concerned about my reasons for travelling in the marquis's coach?'

‘I would not have an innocent girl fall into that trap.'

Her cheeks were pink. ‘You were good to be concerned for me, Mr Seaton, but I assure you I am not about to become any man's mistress. As for the marquis, I have never met him.'

For a moment he was silent, then, ‘How did you know me?' He muttered an oath beneath his breath. ‘Confound it! This is a coil, Miss Bancroft. I had hoped you would not recognise me. What gave me away?'

‘Your eyes and your chin—and your cologne,' she said. ‘This is most awkward for us both, sir. Will you accept my word that I shall never reveal your identity on pain of death?'

‘Heaven forfend!' Daniel said and laughed as he removed his mask. ‘I do not think you need to go so far, Miss Bancroft. Were you to be in danger of your life, you must certainly reveal my name.'

Eliza felt the laughter bubble up inside her. ‘How foolish this is! I do not think you are proficient at your profession, sir. May I enquire why you took it up?'

‘I must admit that this is my first attempt. I saw you get into the carriage where you made your last stop and feared you might be in trouble. It appears I was mistaken—but I could not allow you to go on in ignorance of the manner of man in whose carriage you rode. However, I did not wish to be seen by Cheadle, so I thought of the disguise to fool him if you were together—a disguise that seems not to have served me that well.'

‘I see…' Eliza was thoughtful. ‘I must thank you for your concern for me—but, pray tell me, why did you not wish to be seen by the marquis?'

‘It is a matter I may not discuss with anyone—but I assure you I had good reason. And I beg you to have a care when dealing with him.'

‘I have no need of such advice. I told you, I have no intention of becoming any man's mistress.'

‘Sometimes innocent girls are not given a choice in the matter.'

‘What do you mean?' Her smooth brow wrinkled in thought. ‘Surely you do not think the marquis…? No, sir, that is monstrous. I have been treated with the greatest courtesy by his men. You are reckless and foolhardy and I cannot think you gave this foolish trick much consideration.'

‘You have no idea of what you speak,' Daniel said harshly. ‘There are men capable of such infamy…things of which you can have no knowledge. Please continue
your journey. I am sorry to have interrupted what was such a pleasant experience for you. When Cheadle leaves you pregnant and destitute—'

Eliza reached out and slapped him. Her eyes widened in distress as his mouth thinned with temper. ‘Oh, I am so sorry. I did not mean to…'

She turned away in embarrassment, but he caught her arm, swinging her back to face him. She had a moment to notice the angry passion in his eyes and then he caught her to him. His head bent as he took possession of her lips. The kiss was at first demanding, angry, but then it softened, becoming sweet and pleasing. Eliza did not struggle. For some obscure reason she felt relaxed and at ease in his embrace, her lips receptive, slightly parted. When he finally released her, she could only stare at him in bewilderment.

‘Forgive me. I was tempted. You provoked me too far.'

‘Then I must ask you to forgive me. It was quite unintentional, I assure you. May I leave now? You have my word that I shall not betray you. Nor shall I fall into the arms of a scoundrel. I am truly to work for a lady of quality.'

‘You are either a saint or have the patience of one,' Daniel exclaimed ruefully. ‘I have no excuse for my behaviour—in holding up your carriage or the kiss.'

‘Papa taught me to see good in everyone and every situation.'

Eliza turned away, a smile on her soft mouth. It was as well that he could not read her mind. If he had guessed at her thoughts, which were really extremely shocking, he would know that she had wanted the kisses to continue.

As she walked back to the carriage, where the
coachman was anxiously awaiting her, Eliza's thoughts were churning with unanswered questions. Mr Seaton had not told her from whom he had won the ring that was like hers, but she could not help wondering if it were the Marquis of Cheadle. Was the hold-up all a foolish prank or was there some hidden secret—a secret that might concern her?

‘Are you all right, Miss Bancroft?'

‘What? Oh, yes, perfectly,' Eliza said. ‘It was just a mistake, sir. The highwayman was playing a prank for a bet. He held up the wrong carriage. Shall we go on now?'

The coachman gave her an odd look, but said no more, offering his hand to assist her into the carriage.

Eliza sat back against the squabs. She touched her fingers to her mouth and smiled. Ever since the first time she had seen Mr Daniel Seaton she had wondered what it would be like to be kissed by him. Now she knew and it was even nicer than she had imagined.

Was it wicked of her to have enjoyed his kiss? Eliza knew that she was unlikely to marry unless she settled for someone like the curate. Mr Stanley was a good man, she supposed, but she had never dreamed of being kissed by him, whereas Mr Seaton's face had come unbidden to her mind both when sleeping and when she was awake. It was foolish to think of him—he was the earl's nephew and would have only one purpose for a girl of Eliza's upbringing. For a moment she thought that the sacrifice of name and reputation might be worthwhile for the happiness that an illicit love affair might bring. Then she recalled that she herself was most likely a lovechild. Papa and Mama would be horrified if they knew what was in her mind.

‘I am sorry,' she whispered, though she was quite
alone in the carriage. ‘I promise I shall do nothing to shame you.'

You could never do that, Eliza.

Tears stung her eyes as she imagined her mother's voice and her gentle smile. She missed her parents and her friends and for a moment she felt terribly alone. It was a huge step to travel such a long way to live with a stranger. Supposing Lady Sarah did not like her? The offer was only provisional and at the end of that period of probation, she might be forced to look for another position.

T
he house in the Crescent was imposing and grand. It was very different to the eyes of a country girl who until recently had only visited Norwich once in her life.

Eliza's heart beat wildly as the footman opened the front door to her. His livery was extremely smart and his manner seemed condescending as he beckoned her inside. The black-and-white tiled floor in the hall gleamed and the scent of lavender polish met her as she was shown up the stairs to the first-floor reception rooms.

‘Her ladyship is expecting you, Miss Bancroft.'

‘Thank you,' she whispered, her throat dry as she followed the footman along the landing to a pair of imposing doors. They were painted white and scrolled with gold swags and bows, the handles of gleaming brass. A maid must have polished them that very morning.

‘Miss Bancroft, your ladyship.'

The footman stood back to allow Eliza to enter, closing the door behind her. Eliza saw a woman seated in
an elbow chair close to the window. She had obviously been reading, but she placed her book on the wine table close to hand, letting her enquiring gaze rest on Eliza. She had a gentle face and her smile of welcome lit her eyes.

‘Please come to me, Miss Bancroft,' she said, standing up and offering her hand. ‘I have been looking forward to meeting you.'

‘Thank you. I, too, have anticipated this meeting with pleasure, my lady.' Eliza moved forwards. She extended her hand and the lady held it for a moment and then sat down. ‘I am grateful for the chance to be of service to you, my lady.'

‘Until recently I have been living in the country,' Lady Sarah said. ‘Now that I am in Bath I find I need a companion, a young lady who will exchange books at the library, fetch things I need and accompany me to the Pump Room and various functions. I have maids to care for my clothes and the house. I really need a friend to sit and talk with me, perhaps read to me now and then when I have a headache—nothing too strenuous, Eliza. I hope I may call you Eliza?'

‘Yes, of course, my lady.'

‘Ma'am or Sarah will do. I hope we shall become firm friends in time, Eliza. It will be a pleasure for me to have the company of a young lady.' Lady Sarah smiled. ‘Please, bring a chair and sit near me, my dear. I shall ring for refreshments. I should like to hear more about you and your mama—if it is not too painful for you?'

‘No, ma'am, I am able to talk of Mama without crying now. I looked after her in the last few months of her illness. My papa died two and a half years ago. It was quite sudden and we had to leave the rectory where he was the incumbent. Mama never quite got over losing
him so suddenly. She became delicate and was confined to bed for some months.'

‘How sad for her and for you. I am sorry for your loss, my dear. I hope you will not mind going into company so soon? I lead quite a busy social life here.'

‘Mama told me I was not to wear black for her,' Eliza said and glanced down at her dove-grey gown. ‘I have some other plain gowns in colours, ma'am, but very little suitable for evenings. We did not entertain.'

‘Oh, I quite expected to provide some clothes for you,' Lady Sarah said immediately. ‘I shall summon my dressmaker in the morning and we shall commission some outfits for you, Eliza. What you have on is perfectly suitable for wearing to the Pump Room, and I may have something you can adapt for evenings until your new clothes are ready.'

‘I am good with my needle. If you had some cast-offs, I could alter them for my use rather than purchasing all new…'

‘I will find one or two that may do for the moment, but you shall certainly have new gowns. Please do not feel embarrassed, Eliza. It is perfectly in order and quite usual.'

‘Oh…in that case I am grateful, my…ma'am,' Eliza said. ‘I had not expected so much kindness.'

‘You may find me a hard taskmaster,' Lady Sarah replied and laughed softly. ‘I am tiresomely forgetful, my dear, and may send you on errands a dozen times a day.'

‘I shall be only too pleased to fetch whatever it is you wish.'

A maid entered at that moment, bringing a large silver tray set with an exquisite tea and coffee service of elegant silver with bone handles, and delicate porcelain
tea bowls. There was also a plate of tiny biscuits and almond comfits.

‘Will you pour for us both please, Eliza? I take my tea with a drop of milk and one lump of sugar.'

Eliza poured the tea into the delicate bowl, added a little milk and used the tongs to select a small lump of sugar, which she added to the bowl. She handed it to Lady Sarah, who thanked her, stirred it once, sipped and nodded her approval before setting it on the wine table at her side.

‘Would you like a comfit, ma'am?'

‘No thank you, but please try one, Eliza. Cook made them especially in case you arrived.'

Eliza tasted one of the comfits, as she had been bidden, and expressed pleasure as she ate the delicious treat. She poured a cup of tea for herself and resumed her seat.

‘What other duties are required, ma'am? So far it seems that I am to be treated as a guest rather than an employee. I should like to be of use to you in whatever way I may.'

‘I really require only companionship,' Lady Sarah assured her. ‘You will be as…a cousin or a younger sister to me, Eliza. I hope you will accept me as a friend, because that will be more comfortable for us both. There cannot be more than two-and-twenty years between us. My son is but seven and twenty and I married when I was sixteen. My son was born ten months later.'

‘You hardly look more than nine and thirty, ma'am.'

Lady Sarah laughed and looked pleased, though she denied it. ‘I feel so much older some days. My life has been very quiet until recently. While my husband lived I resided at home in the country, often alone. To have
the company of a young lady of your age is a delight for me.'

Eliza hardly knew what to say. She had not considered that she would be so fortunate and found it difficult to realise that she was going to live in such favoured circumstances.

‘Now, if you have finished your tea, I shall ring for Millicent Browne. She is my housekeeper here and she will take you up to your room. Please take your time to refresh yourself after the journey and then come down to me. We have a dinner engagement this evening, but this afternoon is free for us to talk and get to know each other. Dinner this evening is just an informal affair with friends, but I shall send you a gown you may like to wear.'

Eliza thanked her again. A woman came in answer to Lady Sarah's summons. She was dressed in a plain black gown with a neat lace collar and a gold brooch fastened at the throat. Her bright eyes looked at Eliza curiously, but her manner was welcoming as she led her along the landing and up a short flight of stairs.

‘Her ladyship put you in one of the family rooms, miss. She wanted you close to her apartments so that you could pop in and out when she is resting, as she does some afternoons.'

‘Thank you, Mrs Browne,' Eliza said. ‘I hope that I shall be of some use and not cause more work for you. I am quite happy to make my bed and keep my room tidy.'

‘Well, that is kind of you, miss. Not all guests are so thoughtful, I can tell you, but it will not be necessary. Her ladyship told us you were to be treated as family, and that's how it will be.'

‘I must do something to earn my keep.'

‘Your nice manners and cheerful smile will cheer her ladyship and that is all that's needed, miss.'

Mrs Browne stopped outside a room and opened the door, ushering her inside. The room was very pretty, furnished with satinwood pieces that struck Eliza as being exquisitely made, and the décor was of pink and cream with a touch of crimson here and there.

‘What a beautiful room,' she exclaimed. ‘I have never had such pretty things. Thank you for giving me such a lovely bedchamber—and roses on the dressing chest. How very kind.'

‘Her ladyship wanted things nice, miss. We are all fond of her and we shall be obliged to you if you can cheer her up—she's not had a good life.'

‘Oh…' Eliza wondered what was meant, but was too polite to enquire. It was not for her to gossip about her employer the moment she arrived. ‘I am sorry to hear that. I shall certainly do my best to please.'

Left to herself, Eliza took off her bonnet and pelisse, depositing them on a chair. She ran her fingers over the surface of the beautiful dressing chest and the matching writing table and chair, bending to sniff the roses, which gave off a wonderful perfume. She could not quite believe her good fortune.

Sitting down on the edge of the bed, she thought about her extraordinary day yesterday. First the hold-up that was not truly a hold-up at all since the highwayman had turned out to be a man she had previously met and was clearly not very skilled at his work. A little smile touched her mouth as she remembered his kiss and her quite inappropriate feelings.

How foolish she was to feel such a strong attraction to a man who would never mean anything to her. She had been very fortunate in securing such a comfortable
position and must do nothing to jeopardise her good fortune. If she saw Mr Seaton again, she would be sure to keep her distance, but it was unlikely that he would come to Bath.

And even more unlikely that he would be interested in a mere companion. A man as well connected as Daniel would surely have no trouble attracting a suitable wife. Yet his smile, his concern for her when he knocked her down, the feeling she had when he kissed her, would linger in her mind.

 

Daniel frowned at himself in the mirror. It would appear that he had made a fool of himself by holding up Cheadle's carriage. Eliza had travelled alone and was adamant that she was going to be the companion of a lady in Bath. He had felt foolish and angry, and that kiss had been unwise because he had not been able to get her out of his mind since.

An interview with his bank in Bath had revealed that his finances were, if anything, worse than he had imagined. Even if he were prepared to live like a miser and work all the hours of the day and night, he was not sure that he could hang on to the estate. His mind should be focused on his own problems—and his cousin's death. He could not afford to be thinking of a girl with eyes that made him want to kiss her senseless.

He had come to Bath to hear the worst, but also in search of Cheadle, whom he'd learned was due to stay here. It would be his chance to bargain for the ring and see if he could get anything of worth out of him—and he did not mean money, though the ten thousand his father had lost to the marquis was the cause of his immediate problems.

He had not come to Bath to discover if Miss Eliza
Bancroft had been telling him the truth. If they were to meet that would be by the way and of no importance. It would be quite ridiculous if he were to allow himself to be distracted by that impish smile of hers. Quite ridiculous and impossible.

If he were sensible, he would try to find an heiress to marry him, as his uncle had suggested. The notion did not sit well with him, but short of taking up a life on the road he could think of nothing else that would produce enough money to pay those damned mortgages.

Susanne Roberts had been giving him suggestive looks in town when he visited earlier in the Season. He had stayed well clear because he could not imagine himself being tied to such a silly girl. However, beggars could not be choosers. He might bring himself to the point of asking if he could put the memory of Eliza Bancroft's tantalising mouth from his head.

He had an invitation to dine with the Roberts family in Bath that evening—and it would do no harm to keep the appointment.

 

‘That lilac silk becomes you well,' Lady Sarah said as Eliza twirled for her, holding the silk draped across her body. ‘Yes, I like it—and the grey is perfect for small evening affairs. However, you will need a ballgown or perhaps two—and I think you should have white. You may trim them with delicate touches of black lace if you wish, but I think white is perfectly acceptable—do you not agree, Madame Millaise?'

The seamstress nodded her approval. ‘I do not think anyone would take exception to it, milady,' she said, her accent markedly French despite her excellent grasp of the English language. ‘A discreet touch of black is all
that is needed to make it perfectly respectable,
non?
' She looked at Eliza, as if asking a question.

Eliza hesitated, waiting for her employer to speak.

‘Yes, that is my opinion. What do you think, Eliza, my dear?'

‘I will be advised by you and
madame,
' Eliza said, feeling anxious as she looked at the growing pile of silks her employer seemed to feel she needed. ‘Mama particularly told me she did not wish me to wear mourning for more than a few days, but I like the grey and lilac. I should choose those shades at any time. I had not thought of white, but I am sure it will be perfect.'

‘Yes, I believe it will. You are an attractive girl, Eliza, and will pay for dressing.'

Eliza blushed. She had never thought of herself as particularly attractive, though Betty always said it, but wearing good clothes certainly made her feel much more stylish. She had already adapted two evening gowns that her employer had given her from her own wardrobe, one a simple lilac silk, which had had long sleeves. Eliza had removed the long sleeves and made them shorter, trimming them with some heavy cream lace. She had added more lace to the bodice, and, worn with the gold pin that had been her mother's, the alteration had completely transformed the gown so that even Lady Sarah had not recognised it. The other was grey silk and had very elegant lines. Eliza had merely adjusted the waist and hemline, feeling that she could not improve on its design.

‘Will
mademoiselle
be advised by me as to the style the gowns should be?' the Frenchwoman asked.

‘Yes, thank you,' Eliza replied. ‘I am not perfectly sure of the latest fashion—or what would be appropriate for a companion to wear.'