The Fugitive Heiress (3 page)

Catheryn felt a little like the ball at a tennis match but was fascinated by the dialogue and waited anxiously for his lordship’s response. He glanced in her direction and then looked straight into her eyes, his expression thoughtful. At last, he looked back at the countess.

“There is a certain matter concerning Miss Westering that I should like Ashley to look into, and she did express a wish to remain in town for a while. She wishes to set up housekeeping on her own, however.”

“But that would never do,” protested the countess. She smiled at Catheryn. “Really, my dear, it would not answer. You will be much more comfortable here with us. You will be excellent company for my daughter, and she will be delighted to show you just how to go on.”

Catheryn liked the sprightly countess. “I should be pleased to stay, my lady, if his lordship will permit it.”

Dambroke shrugged. “Very well,” he agreed. “Perhaps your relatives may be induced to allow you to remain here a short while as our guest. But do not look so overjoyed,” he added sternly. “I have not entirely capitulated, you know. Despite my mother’s confidence, I don’t know that it will answer her purpose. However, if you can distract my sister from what she feels to be the ills of her situation, I will thank you most sincerely. I shall use the time to look into the other matter, but you must write your aunt and uncle at once. You may tell them that my mother invites you to stay for a week or two. That should allay their anxiety, and if they agree, you are welcome.” He smiled faintly. “Perhaps a separation from your cousin will help you see his suit in a new light, too. Absence, the heart, and all that.”

But Catheryn refused to think of Edmund at all. Her eyes were sparkling as she thanked Dambroke and agreed to write the letter. Lady Caston stood in awe of any title and would never refuse an invitation for her to visit a countess.

Lady Dambroke spoke up. “I shall send a note of my own as well, Miss Westering.” She shot a look of triumph at her son. “Now, Richard, order a bedchamber for her, if you please, and tell Paulson that we shall want tea in the drawing room in twenty minutes. I shall send for Tiffany to come to us there.” She put her arm around Catheryn’s waist. “You shall tell us all your adventures, child. What a nice surprise you are, to be sure.”

When they reached the drawing room, she sent a footman off to inform the Lady Tiffany that her presence was required. Catheryn appreciated the brief respite. Things had moved at whirlwind pace since her ladyship’s arrival, and she needed a chance to catch her breath.

The drawing room was magnificent. It occupied much of the front half of the first floor and, despite the formality of yellow velvet curtains and gold-inlaid furnishings, the room had an atmosphere of cheerful warmth. Lady Dambroke’s workbasket and tambour frame sat beside one chair and a fire had been laid, ready to light, in the fireplace. Catheryn’s gaze came to rest upon the mantle clock, an exquisite creation by Godin of Paris, dated 1742. She learned later that it was one of the countess’s favorite pieces, to be found wherever she chanced to be at home. The face was supported by a flower-bedecked ormolu branch under which stood two porcelain Oriental figures, the taller draped in flowing Mandarin robes and the other, short and round, dressed in the trousers and loose-roped shirt of a peddler, a bulging pack slung jauntily over his shoulder. Both men seemed to be sharing some joke or other, their merriment so vividly expressed that anyone looking upon them found cause at least to smile. Catheryn chuckled just as the countess turned from dismissing her footman upon his errand.

“Amusing, are they not?” she smiled. “But now, my dear, tell me about yourself. I declare I’ve not had such a diversion in an age.” She settled upon a sofa and patted the cushion invitingly.

Laughing, Catheryn sat and, in less than ten minutes, had put her in possession of the pertinent facts of her recent history. When she came to the point of her arrival at Dambroke House, the countess interrupted.

“Never mind the rest, my dear.” Her eyes sparkled. “I can well imagine Dambroke’s reaction to your tale. Just like his father before him, he can be most punctilious with regard to the women of his family and must always look first to the proprieties. I daresay he lectured you about your lack of a proper attendant.”

“Yes, my lady, he did, and I know it was very wrong.”

“Well, there’s no need to refine too much upon it,” Lady Dambroke remarked comfortably. “I quite understand why you felt you must leave Caston Manor and, though I cannot applaud your methods, I shall contrive to overlook them.” She patted Catheryn’s knee. “It is not as bad as it might be. At least you had the sense to complete the journey in a single day. A night spent on the road would alter the thing considerably. But that is as may be and no use discussing further. You are most welcome here, my dear. I should like to keep you a good long time, but Dambroke must be made to think it his own idea, and that will take a bit of scheming.” She paused, brows knit, affording Catheryn the opportunity to point out that Sir Horace Caston must likewise be convinced.

“I’ve no wish to hang on your sleeve or to become a bone of contention between you and his lordship, ma’am. I am certain he would object strenuously to my making a visit of indeterminate length without my uncle’s full support. Besides, what would you do with me?”

“Do with you! Why, you foolish child, I shall present you!” When Catheryn stared in amazement, she went on, “Yes, introduce you to everyone! The best way to avoid marriage to your Edmund is to contract it with another. In order to do that, you must meet other men. I can certainly arrange that. Of course, I cannot promise a brilliant match,” she cautioned, “but there must be any number of suitable young men in London.”

Catheryn was sitting bolt upright by this time, her eyes wide with astonishment. “But, my lady, I’ve not a feather to fly with unless Lord Dambroke can pry some of my fortune away from Sir Horace!”

The countess waved the objection away with an airy gesture. “’Tis of no consequence. We shall contrive.”

Feeling that her wildest dreams were in a fair way to coming true, Catheryn nevertheless won a battle with her baser instincts and forced words of expostulation. “My dear ma’am, you cannot wish to saddle yourself with me in such a course. It would cut up all your peace. And the expense! The clothes I have are unfashionable beyond belief, and even if Uncle Horace were to allow me access to my money, I doubt I could afford all I should need. There is your own daughter to be considered as well. What would she think?”

“I can do nothing with Tiffany, my dear. Dambroke is her guardian and said only today that he will not allow her to marry yet a while. Besides, I don’t much like her, and I think I like you very well.” Catheryn’s shock was evident, and the countess continued hastily, “Please don’t think I do not love all my children. I do, truly. Only, Tiffany has become excessively spoiled of late and makes me uncomfortable. She was used to be such a cheerful, sprightly child until she inherited a prodigious fortune from her godmother and began to think herself a great heiress who can do as she pleases. She and Dambroke come to cuffs all the time. He is very strict with her, you see, and she flouts his authority constantly. When I consider how upset I was to discover that my husband had named Richard guardian, instead of myself, I can scarce believe it now. That was five years ago,” she added with a sigh.

“But he must have been very young for so much responsibility!” Catheryn exclaimed.

“Indeed, and it shows. He used to laugh so easily and liked a lark as much as any of his friends. But he found the responsibility a heavy burden, I’m afraid, and has changed a good deal. He laughs less, seems much more rigid, even perhaps a bit arrogant at times, though I should not say so.” She sighed again. “If only Tiffany would take a liking to you, it would give her someone to think of besides herself. I assure you that, if that happens, it may be enough to convince Dambroke to let you stay indefinitely!”

Catheryn was spared the necessity of commenting by the entrance of two footmen with the tea service. She noted with approval that the countess believed in doing the thing lavishly. There were little sandwiches filled with crabmeat, or ham and cucumber, and colorfully iced cakes. She sighed with pleasure. “Shall I pour out for you, my lady?”

“Thank you, dear.” The countess turned to the footman who had answered her bell earlier. “Morris, did you convey my message to Lady Tiffany?”

“Yes, my lady. Her abigail informed me that her ladyship is indisposed but that she would attempt—”

“Drat the girl! Still sulking, I make no doubt. Go and say that she is to compose herself at once and come down to meet her cousin. If she still seems recalcitrant, you may hint that his lordship will not approve such rag manners. Do you understand me, Morris?” His face carefully blank, the footman bowed and left the room.

When they were alone again, Catheryn said, “If she is out of sorts, my lady, perhaps it would be kinder to put off our meeting.” What she had heard so far left her with little desire to meet Lady Tiffany. Surely, it could wait till she finished this lovely tea!

“Nonsense, Miss Westering. My daughter is merely indulging in a fit of sulks. She and Dambroke had an altercation this morning, and I fear she was sadly worsted. I wasn’t present, of course. I find such scenes excessively unpleasant. I do know she fled the library in tears, however—certainly not a sign that she came off very well, do you not agree?”

“To be sure, my lady. Would it be impertinent of me to ask what caused the altercation?”

“Of course not, Miss Westering—oh, how silly! Here I am treating you as quite one of the family and still calling you Miss Westering. You will not mind if I call you Catheryn, will you, my dear?” Catheryn shook her head, smiling. “Good. And let me hear no more miladies from you. You shall call me Aunt Elizabeth!”

“But you are not my aunt, ma’am. I am only distantly related to your husband, a slight connection to you at best.”

“I promise I shall not regard it. Perhaps it would be more appropriate for you to call me Cousin Elizabeth, but that would make me think of Cousin Lucy—down at Dambroke Park, you know—and she is quite old. I prefer to be called aunt.”

Catheryn’s ready sense of humor was nearly her undoing, but the laughter went no further than her eyes. “I will be happy to do as you ask, ma’am. It would be churlish to do otherwise. Besides,” she added frankly, “I should like very much to have you for my aunt.”

“Wonderful!” applauded the countess. She took a dainty bite from her crabmeat sandwich and wrinkled her brow. “Where was I? Oh, of course, Tiffany. I am afraid Dambroke found it necessary to reprimand her for her extravagance. She has been wasting the ready, as Teddy would say.”

“Teddy?”

“My younger son. He’s away at school—Eton, of course.” Catheryn nodded, allowing her to dismiss Teddy. “At any rate, she has been spending too freely of late, and I know Dambroke has tried to be patient, but he was prodigiously angry this morning. I found him sitting at the library desk behind a pile of her bills. The foolish girl had run through her allowance and then ordered the rest of the reckoning sent to him. He was exceedingly displeased, I assure you.”

“I can believe it, ma’am, but she must have known he would not like it.” Catheryn remembered the stern blue eyes and wondered at Lady Tiffany’s temerity.

“My daughter considers no one’s wishes save her own. As I mentioned before, she flouts him at every turn. Why, at Christmas he refused to let her attend a country house party. She was not yet out, you know, and it would have been most improper. She threatened to starve herself, but fortunately Jean-Pierre prepared a
crème brûlée
for dinner that night, so it came to nothing.” The countess sighed deeply, then gave herself a little shake and touched her cap as though to be sure it was on straight. With a glance at the closed door, she observed that she could not imagine what was keeping her daughter.

Catheryn had been wondering if the afflicted damsel would put in an appearance at all. Having managed a hearty meal during the countess’s discourse, she now eyed the nearly empty tea tray with misgiving but salved her conscience with the thought that, should Lady Tiffany prove to be hungry, the tray could be replenished. Helping herself to another cake, she noted that the countess seemed to have fallen into a brown study and returned to her own reflections.

Her conversation with the earl had left her with the impression that he was a fair-minded, intelligent man who would not easily be influenced by anyone. His air of command was almost awe-inspiring. Clearly, he expected instant obedience from his household and would not long tolerate such behavior as his sister seemed capable of displaying. He was cold, aloof, exacting, probably arrogant, certainly challenging, elegant, suave, vastly intriguing—and quite above your touch, my girl, she told herself sternly.

Forcing her thoughts into a new direction, she considered the countess, who was everything her Aunt Agatha was not. Lady Caston—tall, thick-waisted, horse-faced, and crisp-voiced—displayed an air of the
grande dame
that was totally lacking in the countess. Making the fetter’s acquaintance was truly a novel experience. Her impulsive generosity was captivating, and Catheryn felt, without understanding the feeling, that she had known her for many years. Clearly, Lady Dambroke had little if any sense of duty to her children and was primarily interested in her own comfort and pleasure. Some of the things she had said were downright shocking, but Catheryn found her delightfully charming nonetheless and willingly overlooked them. At this point her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the door opening. She raised her eyes and nearly exclaimed aloud at the vision they encountered.

Lady Tiffany Dambroke stood on the threshold, her hand resting lightly on the door handle. Her slimness made her appear teller than she actually was, and the raven curls piled high atop her exquisitely shaped little head added to the illusion. She was attired in an elegant afternoon gown of rose twilled sarcenet, cut simply and caught in high above the waist with a white silk ribbon, the ends of which trailed to the hem. The dress was cut low at the bosom, and a rope of seed pearls was wrapped twice around her lovely throat. The color of the gown seemed to be reflected in her glorious complexion and also, Catheryn thought stupidly, in her eyes. This thought and the realization that she was staring rudely brought Miss Westering to her senses. She dragged her gaze back to her hostess.