The Runaway Heiress (10 page)

'You
don't have to worry,' he ventured finally, as his comments elicited little
response. 'No one will snub you, you know, no matter what the gossips say. As
Marchioness of Aldeborough, you will have automatic entree into the best
circles. Unless you do something outrageous, of course, and that's unlikely.'

Frances
smiled in gratitude. She was not convinced, but out of good manners she forced
herself to relax and be entertained.

A
dashing group on horseback overtook them and cantered sedately into the
distance.

'Do
you ride?'

'Oh,
yes. Aldeborough and I decided that it is one of my few talents.'

Matthew
looked at her with an interested enquiry.

Frances
laughed at his expression. 'When I was deciding whether to become a governess
or not,' she explained enigmatically. 'Aldeborough decided that, on
reflection, it would not be a good idea.'

'I
shouldn't think it would be. I remember Juliet treating

Miss Dennison very
shabbily. I doubt if you would enjoy it at all—marrying Hugh sounds a much
better option to me.'

'Yes. I suppose it is.'
Matthew's quizzical glance made Frances change the subject rapidly. 'But I can
ride. I occasionally accompanied my uncle when he went hunting, to exercise
some of his horses. Would your mother approve, do you think, if I rode in Hyde
Park? It must have been the only aspect of my upbringing not under discussion
last night!'

'I doubt it.' They
exchanged a smile in perfect understanding.

'Aldeborough brought home
a little Spanish mare.' Matthew picked up the conversation again. 'She is at
the Priory for the present. She's not up to his weight—or mine, sadly— but she
would be perfect for you. Then you can cut a dash with the best of them.'

'I would like that.
Aldeborough was with the Army in the Peninsula, I understand.'

'Yes. Forgive me. I forget
how little you will know about him—and I know he rarely talks about his army
days. He was a Captain in one of the Hussar regiments, but had to sell out when
Richard died. He didn't want to, but it left him little alternative. I wish he
would let me go.'

'He wasn't very
encouraging, was he?'

'No. I could accept his
decision with more forbearance, but I know how much he enjoyed it. Not the
carnage and the loss of friends, and the horrors of the siege of Badajoz, of
course. But the strategy and the...well, you know. And he was probably destined
for great things. He was mentioned in dispatches after the Battle of
Salamanca.' Matthew sighed as he manoeuvred his horses round a group of
saunterers. 'I wish he would talk about it more, but he just clams up. It is
one thing to read about it in
The Times
, but
it is quite another to hear it from someone who was in the thick of it. All I
know is, he would rather have stayed with his regiment—he never wanted the
title or the estate with all its duties. He must find it very dull after the
excitement of campaigning. Perhaps that's why he is so rackety at present. I
don't think I should have said that to you, should I?'

'What?
That my husband is rackety? Probably not.' Frances noted his consternation with
some amusement.

'All
I meant to say was—'

'I
know what you meant to say,' she reassured him.

'That's all right,
then. I would not want to upset you.' He then let the matter drop, with obvious
relief, to introduce Frances to a passing acquaintance. But it left Frances
with much to think about. Here were more facets to Aldeborough than were at
first apparent and she discovered a sudden desire to know him better.

She
was stirred from her reverie by Matthew.

'Just
our luck,' he grinned ruefully. 'Here is The Iceberg. For once I wish Julie was
with us. She is much better at social chit-chat.'

An
ancient landaulet pulled up beside them as Matthew reined in the bays. So this
was the much-admired Miss Penelope Vowchurch and, on first impressions,
Frances felt her heart sink in her chest. She was a polished, handsome lady
with glossy brown curls falling in ordered ringlets and clear, light blue eyes.
Her skin was fair, flawless like the petals of a blush rose, her features
regular in the classical mode. Her clothes were elegant and demure, nothing
extreme, but with more than a brief nod towards fashion. Miss Vowchurch inclined
her head graciously towards Frances, her social smile well in place. She was a
talented water colourist, her singing voice was a delight to hear and she could
speak French and Italian very prettily. She would never be ill mannered, never
malicious. But there was a challenge in those clear eyes, which the smile did
not warm. Frances experienced an urge to pick up the challenge rather than
become a victim. She furled her parasol with determination. She had had enough set-downs
from Lady Aldeborough to last a lifetime.

Matthew
made the introductions, his tone carefully neutral.

'I
am delighted to meet you.' Miss Vowchurch extended a slender gloved hand. 'Lady
Aldeborough has lunched with my mama today and she has told us so much about
you.' Her voice was as well modulated and as elegant as her appearance.

'Indeed? Lady Aldeborough
spoke much of you at dinner last night. I feel that I know you already.'

Miss Vowchurch's eyebrows
rose faintly. 'I believe that you are related to the Mortimers? We know them
well socially. We are forever invited to their town house. But we were never,
to my recollection, introduced to you there. I am sure I would have
remembered.'

'I have not had the
pleasure of making the acquaintance of the Earl of Wigmore, my cousin, but that
will be remedied now that I am fixed in town for some time. Perhaps you are
acquainted with my paternal relatives with whom I have been living, Lord and
Lady Torrington?'

'We have been introduced.'
Miss Vowchurch turned to Matthew, neatly shutting Frances out of the discussion
of common acquaintance.

'I expect we shall meet at
dear Phoebe's celebration party tonight. She is such a good friend of mine. Do
you go there, Matthew?'

'Orders have been given.
It will be a full family turn-out, I believe. And now that Frances is a member
of the family, Aldeborough wishes to introduce her to as many of the relatives
as possible.'

'It must be a little
unnerving knowing no one.' Penelope favoured Frances with a pitying glance. 'I
understand that you have not been in town before, that you did not have the benefit
of a Season. It is invaluable in showing you how to go on in Society.'

'No. It was not
possible—for family reasons. I am finding it a great pleasure.'

'It will soon become
tedious when you know it well,' Miss Vowchurch replied with languid and
fashionable boredom. 'I am sure Matthew will agree with me.'

'I am afraid I can not
conceive of being bored.' Frances showed her teeth in a smile. 'After all,
there is so much to see and occupy one's mind.'

'And where is Aldeborough
this afternoon? I would have expected him to drive you in the park—on your
first day here. Perhaps he was too busy?'

So would I, thought
Frances, but the light of battle was in her eyes and she was enjoying the
polite parrying of swords.

'It was Aldeborough's
intention to drive me here. He informed me of such at breakfast. But my
husband is consulting his lawyer about some legal affairs of mine. My
inheritance, you understand. It was most urgent and he wished to put my mind at
ease about it. I find him most considerate in all things. It is such a relief
to be able to leave such business affairs to the attention of one's husband.
You cannot imagine.'

'It must be very
comforting for you.' Frances was delighted to see the lady's lips set in a
firm line and the smile disappear from her face as well as her eyes.

'Perhaps we should move
on, Matthew. I believe we are blocking the drive.
Au revoir
until this evening, Miss Vowchurch.'

Frances bowed her head, intentionally
copying Miss Vowchurch's graceful actions. She unfurled her parasol with a
decided snap.

'Well done!' murmured Matthew with a straight
face. 'Mama's Paragon has had her nose put just slightly out of joint! Juliet
will be pleased.'

As they turned out of the
park Frances returned to one aspect of the previous conversation. 'Tell me
about the party tonight.'

'It's only a small
gathering to celebrate the betrothal of our Cousin Phoebe to Viscount
Petersfield.'

'Do I have to go?'

'But of course. As I said—you
are part of the family now. Besides, it will be a good opportunity to meet
people on a small scale—and many of the distant connections you will never have
to see again. You will deal admirably. And you can get the worst over with all
on one occasion.'

I suppose I will,
thought Frances. Matthew understood how nervous she was feeling at the prospect
of being abandoned in a sea of names and faces. She just hoped that Aldeborough
would be as considerate.

Matthew
turned the bays towards the park gates to return home to Cavendish Square. As
he reined in to allow a wayward grey and its rider to edge round them, Frances
became aware of a smart barouche approaching from the opposite direction. Its
one occupant, a lady, smiled directly at Frances, and although she did not ask
her coachman to stop, she lowered her parasol and raised her hand in friendly
greeting.

'Who
is the lady waving to us?' Frances asked.

'Oho!
So Mrs Winters is back in Town, is she?' Matthew muttered, a cautious note
entering his voice.

'Should
we stop? She seems to know you well. She waved.'

'No.
I do not think we should.' He shook the reins to encourage the bays to trot on.
'And it would be better if you did not acknowledge her.' But Frances had
already smiled tentatively at the prospect of a new acquaintance.

'But
why not? She looks charming. So open and friendly.'

'Yes.
Well...she is.' For once, Matthew appeared rather uneasy. 'But not very
respectable. She has a reputation, if you take my meaning. And we do not
acknowledge her.'

'Oh.
But she seemed to recognise me.'

'Yes.'
Matthew turned his clear gaze on her. 'She knows Aldeborough,' was all he said.

Frances
hesitated, her mind taking in Matthew's enigmatic reply. His meaning was clear.
'Oh. I believe I understand.'

'I am sure you do.'

The
day left Frances filled with a curious blend of emotions. She had taken her
first tentative steps as a member of London society. She had dreamed of such a
fairy-tale enchantment all her life, but had accepted, bitterly, that unless
she discovered a fairy godmother in an attic then it was not for her and she
was destined to spend her existence cleaning out the grates of Torrington Hall.
Yet, against all probability, she had been able to break the bonds of family
and miserable dependence, to escape the life of drudgery and daily
humiliations. And Aldeborough, although she had placed him unwittingly in an
impossible situation, had married her, raised her in status and acceptability,
preserved her reputation from scandal and gossip and launched her into polite
society, all within less than two weeks of becoming aware of her existence.
And all, it appeared, without any inconvenience to himself, as she had not set
eyes on him all day. But, after all, he had told her that they would live
separate lives. And would she really want to demand more from him than he had
already given? She could not think about that. After all, she could not fault
his strict code of honour and duty to protect her from worldly condemnation.

Now she was dressed for
the evening with the ordeal of a family celebration to face. Nerves fluttered
and swooped uncomfortably in her stomach at the prospect of so many unknown
faces. They might have gathered for an important family event but the main
topic of conversation would undoubtedly be the remarkable
mesalliance
of the Marquis of Aldeborough to an
unknown from the depths of the country and the scandalous events that had
precipitated it. She paced the floor of her bedchamber, wishing that Juliet
would come and take pity on her and calm her anxieties with her light-hearted
chatter and irreverent comment.

There was a sharp knock on
the door, causing Frances to look up in anticipation. But it was not Juliet.
Instead Aldeborough entered, dressed in formal evening attire for the first
time since Frances had met him. The black satin knee breeches and
swallow-tailed coat with white waistcoat embroidered in gold and with
impeccable white linen gave him an air of magnificence that took her breath
away and robbed her of words. How had she not realised that her husband was so
very handsome?

He advanced towards her
with catlike grace, the candles touching the tips of his black hair with gold
and turning his eyes to silver quartz. She found her hands taken in his cool
grasp and raised to his lips. The touch of his mouth on her fingers sent rills
of response along her skin.

'How can I expect you to
forgive me, Frances Rosalind? I have neglected you dreadfully today, in spite
of all my good intentions and promises. You must have decided that I was a sad
bargain in the marriage stakes.' His smile, which she was beginning to find
irresistible, drew an answering one from her.

'I don't expect you to
dance attendance on me, my lord,' she replied calmly, with as level a gaze as
she could muster, their previous encounter forcefully in her mind.

'But your first day! It
was unforgivable, even if unavoidable. I trust Matthew devoted himself to your
entertainment and comfort?'

'Indeed he did. He told me
he dare not disobey orders if he valued his life.'

Aldeborough laughed. 'I
must remind him about that some time.'

'Juliet suggested that you
were spending your day at Jackson's Saloon,' she informed him with the hint of
a mischievous twinkle in her eye. 'Or buying a horse.'