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Authors: Juliet Moore

Tags: #FICTION / Romance / Historical

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BOOK: The Hidden Heiress
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Marshall stared down at his brother's wife in bewilderment. "What?"

"Come say hello, Miss Norcross." Jane winked at him. "I was just entertaining her until you got here, Mr. Templeton. Don't look so alarmed, I haven't stolen her from you!"

He descended, rapidly moving past Jane to take Sarah's hand. Jane pinched him, hard, as he passed. "Ah, Miss Norcross. How could I possibly be late to greet such an angel?"

Sarah leaned forward and whispered, "Flattery will get you everywhere, Mr. Templeton."

He forced a smile to cover his distaste.

Jane stepped forward. "Miss Norcross was telling me how excited she is about your day together."

"Stop that, you'll make me blush," Sarah tittered.

"Yes, our day together. Of course," Marshall stammered, unable to think of a graceful exit.

Jane nodded. "Lady Norcross was thrilled you sent the invitation."

"Will she be accompanying us?"

Sarah twirled her parasol like a weapon. "Mama had planned to come, but she unexpectedly came ill. Would you mind terribly if it were just the two of us?"

Marshall frowned, hoping she hadn't poisoned her own mother. "I don't mind at all."

"Wonderful!" Jane clapped her hands together with glee. "You can leave just as soon as Miss Norcross finishes her tea."

"I'm finished," Sarah replied.

Marshall watced the door. Perhaps if he escaped through the back door and--

No. There was no evading it. He bowed to Sarah. "Please excuse me for a moment, Miss Norcross. I need to have a word with my brother."

Behind Sarah's back, Jane winked again. "I must also . . . speak to Mr. Templeton."

Marshall tried not to run into the study too quickly. He yanked open the door. Even though he still hadn't forgiven Edward for his outburst in the garden, the desk's empty chair filled him with dismay. He turned in time to see Jane barreling through the door.

She hurried inside and shut the door behind her.

He glared at her as he paced. "Jane, what the hell do you think you're doing?"

"A little matchmaking," she replied with a confident air. "Miss Norcross has been waiting for your invitation for months. I think you should know, her first season is nearly at its end and she's received many impressive offers."

He laughed hysterically and asked, "How many of them were for marriage?"

A look of bewilderment clouding her eyes. "I don't understand, Marshall. Are you angry I've arranged this outing with Miss Norcross?"

Marshall paced faster. "Yes, but as we both know, neither you nor Edward care about my feelings on the subject."

"Of course we care! I just didn't think you'd pursue this on your own."

"Then perhaps it's not worthy of pursuit!"

"Keep your voice down!" she hissed, hurrying forward.

"I am well within an acceptable range of volume, Jane. Obviously, I wouldn't want her to hear us. The only damn reason I'm going along with this charade is so I don't hurt her feelings. It's not her fault you belong in an asylum."

"How dare you?" She poked his chest with one long, skinny finger. "I'm merely looking out for you."

He crossed his arms in front of his body. "Did you borrow that phrase from Edward?"

Jane sighed. "Well, Marshall, if you'd rather turn her down, I'm sure she'd understand."

"Yes, that's just what I'll do. I'll bow out and blame the entire fiasco on you . . ."

"Marshall!"

"How could you do this to me? It's absurd! I don't even like the girl," he asked.

"Why not? She's pretty, wealthy, and cultured."

He shook his head. "She's also a hoyden!"

"What a reprehensible thing to say." Jane narrowed her eyes and gave him the kind of look he'd seen her give the maids when they snuck out back to dally with the grooms. "I thought you were raised better than that."

"Jane, you look nothing like my mother, so please don't attempt to emulate her."

She shook her head, an expression of exaggerated awe distorted her face. "I can understand why Edward is so frustrated with you."

"He's frustrated with me?" Marshall almost yanked a cigar from his brother's humidor, even though he detested the noxious habit. "Why don't you let him know I am just as frustrated? I'm tired of him telling me what to do."

"He's trying to help you, you ungrateful--"

"Having his wife intrude her protégés upon my private time is the exact opposite of helpful."

Jane gazed up at the ceiling. "I caught you on your way upstairs, didn't I? Were you planning a rendezvous with my governess?"

"That's none of your concern." He clenched his fists. "I wish you had a shred of human feeling, at least enough to refer to Miss Balfour by her name. She's more than just the title you bestowed on her."

Jane smiled. "I never suggested otherwise. You've become paranoid over that woman."

He ripped off his hat and squeezed it between his hands. Through clenched teeth, he replied, "This conversation isn't helping. I'll take Miss Norcross out, but only to save her the embarrassment. If you
ever
do this again . . ."

"You need a suitable bride. Are you going to remain a bachelor your entire life?"

"I'm beginning to consider the idea with much fondness." Marshall sneered. "Where is Edward? That was why I came in here in the first place, not so I could argue with you."

"He's working," she replied, a note of secrecy in her voice.

"Working? Now?"

She shrugged. "Maybe he's looking at a promotion as well."

Jane hurried out of the study before he could reply, leaving him staring at empty space. Was she implying that Edward was after his job? He'd kill him!

He strode into the hallway, even less inclined than before to spend the day with Miss Norcross, but he could think of no way to get out of it. Any excuse he made would be taken as an affront. It wasn't worth it.

Sarah Norcross was waiting where they'd left her, looking calm and unruffled. He smiled to himself, unable to imagine Isabel being so patient. But Isabel was one of a kind.

He offered Sarah his arm. "Shall we go?"

She came to his side with alacrity. She took his arm and smiled up at him.

He heard something, perhaps even sensed it, on the staircase. He looked up to see Isabel gazing down at him, knuckles white. In her hand she clutched a small reticule.

Sarah followed Marshall's gaze and smiled like a vicious tigress.

"Hello, Miss Balfour," he said, wishing he could say more. Even though he was damn sure that he wouldn't ignore her for Sarah's sake, he couldn't say all the things he wanted to say. He couldn't tell her that he'd really come to see her before being sidetracked by Jane. He couldn't tell her that he was still losing sleep over what had happened in the garden.

"Hello," she said with a bewildered expression on her beautiful face. Then, as abruptly as she'd appeared, she turned around and hurried back upstairs.

Sarah frowned with distaste. "Shouldn't she be using the servant's stairs?"

Jane opened the door in a flurry of motion. "Yes, but you know how governesses are, considering themselves above the rest of the staff. What can one do?"

"Governesses," Sarah said, then shivered. "Always such gloomy characters. I spoke to her a bit at your last dinner party, if you'll remember."

Marshall bit down on his tongue. "Shall we go?"

"Of course," she twittered, spinning her parasol with her other hand. "I can't wait to see where you take me, Mr. Templeton."

Neither can I.

Chapter 7

"Follow that carriage!" Isabel was jolted as the hansom cab driver whipped the horses into action, her back hitting the worn upholstered cushions behind her. She ignored the look he gave her and pulled her shawl together to cover her bodice. Though a hansom wasn't fit transportation for a lady, she didn't have time to wait for an omnibus.

She would not bemoan her fate. No tears would escape her lids over Marshall's outing with Miss Norcross. She knew where he was--even if she didn't know where he was going--and that was all that mattered. And if she hadn't interrupted their leave-taking, she'd still be wondering how to ferret out her only possible champion.

Isabel rested her chin on the handle of her umbrella. She prayed that Marshall would know what to do. She knew he would be furious with his brother for trying to make good on his threats. As much as she hated coming between them, she couldn't leave the Templeton household so soon.

Isabel leaned her head out the window and watched the Templeton's carriage put more distance between them. "Are you following the right carriage? The footman is wearing purple and black livery."

"I'm working on it, Madam!"

Seeing an object approach from the corner of her eye, Isabel snapped her hand back inside. She tapped her foot rapidly on the floor of the cab. Despite her aim not to worry herself over Miss Norcross, Isabel found her thoughts returning to the smug smile that had been plastered across the catty woman's face. Obviously, she was used to winning in matters of love and didn't like to be shown up. There were many things Isabel liked too, but she didn't always expect to get her way. She hoped Miss Norcross wouldn't be too distraught when she interrupted their tete-a-tete.

The hansom suddenly stopped, her ente body tossed against the front of the cab. She peered out the window. "They stopped?"

"Doffcocker Inn," the driver replied. "That will be five shillings."

Isabel stepped out of the cab and paid the fare. She turned to face the inn and smiled. The last time she'd been there seemed like ages ago, telling Marshall that she wasn't to be
his
governess. Clearly, she'd spoken too soon.

She entered the inn, dark compared to the sunny street. After a moment, her gaze searched the room for Marshall. She found him quickly, sitting at a small table with his arms folded in front of his chest. He leaned back in his chair as Sarah spoke
at
him.

Isabel took one step toward them and then she froze. What if he was enjoying his luncheon with Sarah? Was it callous of her to so carelessly interrupt them? Confused, she backed out of the bustling inn.

A man nearby called out the leaving times for various stagecoaches, including Thorndale. She approached the coach that could take her home, back to her family, and back to the seat of danger. Perhaps she should just leave. Forget the whole thing.

She felt a heavy hand on her shoulder and jumped away from the strange touch. "I am a married wom--"

"Funny. I wasn't invited to the wedding." Marshall gazed down at her.

"Oh, it's you." Her gloves felt damp from anxious perspiration.

With a large finger, Marshall touched the small wisps of hair curling at the side of her face. "What are you doing here?"

"I . . . needed your help."

"Why?" His voice gentled as he tucked the strands behind her ear. "What's wrong?"

Now that he stood in front of her, Isabel couldn't quite speak. Her mouth half open, she stared at him, wishing he'd somehow divine the truth just by looking at her.

"Are you all right?" He wrapped his arm around her shoulders. "If you need anything, just tell me what it is."

His serious expression and sympathetic touch spoke of sincerity. Isabel leaned into him in spite of herself, knowing she'd come to the right person. She shivered and thought of what might have happened to her if she didn't have him in her corner. Back on the street. In full view for the mysterious person who wanted to be rid of her.

He pulled her closer. "This is serious, isn't it?"

"Another problem has arisen with Edward," she finally said.

"He threatened you again?"

Isabel struggled for the right words. "It was more than a threat."

Marshall coaxed her toward the inn, still holding her. A man watched them for a moment, then looked away. "I can see this is something you don't wish to discuss here. Come with me."

Without a word, she followed him. His arm rested on her shoulders as they walked. Her well being was important to him. His actions made that clear. But her heart ached, wondering if she deserved it . . . if she had ever been so helpful to him.

Marshall abruptly stopped moving and pinned her with a questioning stare. "How did you get here?"

"In a hansom cab," she admitted.

"A hansom? That's not proper at all." He shook his head and started to walk toward the inn, expecting her to follow. "Never mind. I need to take Miss Norcross home. She's on the way."

Behind her, the stage that could have taken her back to Thorndale jolted into motion. She was out of options. Isabel hurried after Marshall, her umbrella banging against her leg. "You want me to go with you? With her as well?"

When he stopped walking she almost slammed into his back. He looked at her. "Why? Is there a problem with my solution?"

"No," she lied. She couldn't tell him she was frightened that jealous rage would prompt her to claw the woman's eyes out. Isabel would just have to make every effort to control herself.

They walked into the cool, darkened inn again and she moved slowly until her eyes got over the rapid adjustment. Just like the first time, she didn't like what she saw. Miss Sarah Norcross gave her a look that made her think she would turn to stone on the spotrshall smiled. "We are going to have to cut our day short, Miss Norcross."

Sarah's answering smile was fragile. "Do you mean that you must take the governess home? I would think that after we deposit her at your brother's house--"

"No, I can't . . . well, it's not just that . . . I must . . ."

"Mr. Templeton is going to have to explain my absence to his brother. He'll demand an explanation for my tardiness."

"And what
is
your explanation? Where were you off to on this fine afternoon?"

Isabel bit her tongue. She did not have to explain herself to Miss Norcross. She wasn't a servant. "Nowhere of note. And where is your chaperone?"

Sarah's eyes narrowed with scorn. "My mother fell ill."

"Send my regards."

Sarah reluctantly got to her feet. "Don't worry, Miss Balfour. If they dismiss you, I'm sure you'll find another post. They can't be as rare as I hear, can they?"

BOOK: The Hidden Heiress
5.65Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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